Gospel Story Finder

Dr. Neal Halfon, a physician who directs the UCLA Center for Healthier Children, Families, and Communities, refers to “parental benign neglect.” One example involved an 18-month-old and his parents:
“‘Their son seemed happy, active and engaged, clearly enjoying time and pizza with his parents. … At the end of dinner, Mom got up to run an errand, handing over care to Dad.’
“Dad … started reading phone messages while the toddler struggled to get his attention by throwing bits of pizza crust. Then the dad re-engaged, facing his child and playing with him. Soon, though, he substituted watching a video on his phone with the toddler until his wife returned.
“… [Dr.] Halfon observed a dimming of the child’s internal light, a lessening of the connection between parent and child.”

The bishop called Peter to teach Sunday School, and after several trying times, Peter had some good experiences in teaching the Gospel Doctrine class. He was working several jobs to help pay his hospital bills. He had several more operations scheduled, and he was beginning to think seriously about his future. Some friends stopped by one day to ask him to go to a stake dance that evening with them. Although he wanted to go, he refused. It took them six hours of talking to convince him to give it a try.
As I entered the foyer, I noticed that all the kids started looking at me, and I noticed some girls over by the coatrack. A couple of girls whispered (they didn’t know I could hear them), “Gosh, look at that guy. I sure hope he doesn’t ask me to dance.” Once again an ugly feeling shrouded my whole being.
I found a place behind the guys up near the band. I claimed a two-feet-square piece of the gym floor as my territory. I was going to own it for those hours at the dance.
At intermission his friends tried to encourage him to dance. They started pulling him out onto the floor. During the intermission, he resolved that as soon as the band began playing again, he would ask a girl to dance.
As soon as the music started, I remembered my commitment, and putting on mental blinders, I went right out there to dance. I knew if I didn’t do it then, I would be a coward for the rest of the night.
He reached the section of the floor where the girls had congregated. He approached one girl from behind. When he touched her on the shoulder to ask for a dance, she turned, saw Peter, and let out a shriek. Embarrassed, she ran out of the hall, pushing her way through the crowd. It was just like the incident at the grocery store. The band stopped playing; everyone turned to see what was the matter. He returned to his place. His friends tried to comfort him, and the dance started again.
I wanted to shout; I wanted to get out of there. And this small voice deep down inside me said, “Peter, you can’t run now; you’ll be running for the rest of your life.” Another strange thing started to happen. My legs started to move across the floor. I watched myself go out there to ask another girl to dance. I had strength beyond my own power. It was like my spirit was up above me saying, “What are you doing? You’ve got to get back. Are you a glutton for punishment?” As I was walking across the floor, I was having this argument saying yes and no and yes and no. This small voice inside me kept reassuring me. It said, “Peter, you must keep asking them to dance. Don’t turn and run because you’ll be running forever.”
Every dance for the rest of the evening, he asked girls to dance. During the entire evening, only two girls would dance with him. That night as he knelt in prayer, Peter was one bitter young man.
Everything seemed to come together—all the pressure of the people, the way they treated me and gawked at me and pointed at me, and all the operations that were left to be done. I still did not really know if they could correct my eyes and give me some eyelids, a normal mouth, and a nose. This feeling of ugliness came upon me, and in my anger, I said to my Father in Heaven, “There is a scripture that promises that we will not be tempted beyond our capacity to resist. I need that now.” I went to bed. The next morning I was blessed with a peace and a calmness that has stayed with me ever since. And regardless of how the world treated me from that point on, I was normal. My Father in Heaven just gave it to me as he promised. If we live the commandments, he will give us what we need. He gave me a peace and a calmness, so I was normal from that day on. Yes, people would react the same toward me, but I had changed.

There was to be one great final lesson before his mortal life ended. He was incarcerated in Carthage Jail with his brother Hyrum, with John Taylor, and with Willard Richards. The angry mob stormed the jail; they came up the stairway, blasphemous in their cursing, heavily armed, and began to fire at will. Hyrum was hit and died. John Taylor took several balls of fire within his bosom. The Prophet Joseph, with his pistol in hand, was attempting to defend his life and that of his brethren, and yet he could tell from the pounding on the door that this mob would storm that door and would kill John Taylor and Willard Richards in an attempt to kill him. And so his last great act here upon the earth was to leave the door and lead Willard Richards to safety, throw the gun on the floor, and go to the window, that they might see him, that the attention of this ruthless mob might be focused upon him rather than the others. Joseph Smith gave his life. Willard Richards was spared, and John Taylor recovered from his wounds. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”12 The Prophet Joseph Smith taught us love—by example.

I met one such young man not long ago while I was attending a stake conference in another country. We were about to conclude a Saturday afternoon meeting with the stake presidency when a knock came at the office door. The president opened it, and I saw a hand give an envelope to him. It had my name on it. The letter inside introduced me to a young man who needed an interview in order to be accepted as a missionary.

As soon as our meeting with the stake presidency was concluded, I excused them and invited the young man in. His initial appearance shocked me. I couldn’t believe he was being recommended to go out and serve as a missionary. His clothes were somewhat wrinkled; he needed a shave; he reeked with tobacco smoke; he even had some sort of paperback book rolled up in his hands. What could he offer in the service of the Master, I thought.

And then it happened—he walked over and shook hands with me. As I looked into his eyes, I was electrified. He was different. He was special, in spite of his outward appearance. As we sat down he told me his story. He first excused himself for appearing to be untidy and in a hurry. He said he had just gotten off the bus after a 13-hour ride from his home and, if I didn’t mind, he hoped he would be able to be back on the bus in another hour for another 13-hour ride to his home.

I then began to put two and two together. I knew now why his clothes were wrinkled and why he needed a shave. I knew the tobacco smoke was not of his choosing, but from the close confinement in the bus. I made another observation. That paperback book in his hand was the Book of Mormon—well read, well used, a priceless possession. He went on to say that three years ago he had joined the Church because of his association with our young people. He said they were different. His parents had given him permission if he wanted to, but warned that if he did, he would no longer have a bed in their home. He could no longer live with them as their son.

When he was baptized, his father kept his word and opened the back door, telling him never to return. The young man didn’t. He moved in with friends. He told me that for the past three years he had been working and going to school. He said he had saved over $2,000 to keep himself on a mission. Please, could he go, he said; he wanted to more than anything in the world. The impression of the Spirit said yes, and he’s now part of the army of 18,000 stalwarts who are out covering the earth as servants of the Master.

Imagine my surprise when I returned to Cannes in the 1990s with my wife, Kathleen, to find a new Latter-day Saint chapel in Le Cannet, a choice neighborhood on the slopes overlooking Cannes. It accommodated a vibrant and overflowing ward anticipating a split. When the congregation heard the humble story of my time in Cannes, we were cornered by three grandmothers who had joined the Church in the 1960s.
“If the Cannes Branch had not remained open,” they told us, “we would never have known about the Restoration of Christ’s Church! Now we all have grandsons serving in the mission field.”
As we rejoiced together at the happy result of keeping the branch open, a distinguished gentleman joined us who had overheard our conversation.
“I am Brother Paya, and I too joined the Church in Cannes in the 1960s,” he said. “I was the former bishop here, president of the Nice Stake, and a mission president in Spain.”
Later, Brother Paya became president of the Madrid Spain Temple and an Area Seventy. We all wept with joy upon hearing their stories.
What a tender mercy of the Lord for me to learn that our missionary work on the French Riviera was not in vain, as I had supposed for so many years. The Lord carefully oversees our labors and blesses them with success, though we cannot foresee the future outcome as He does.

Another young person, William Hamilton, met Joseph and Hyrum when, on their first night in Carthage, they stayed at his father’s inn. They arrived at the Hamilton House hotel five minutes before midnight on June 24. Early the next morning, the Smith brothers voluntarily surrendered to a constable. After a court hearing during the day, they met with Governor Ford. During the interview a justice of the peace appeared with a paper from a judge authorizing the jailing of Joseph and Hyrum Smith until they could be tried for treason—which was a change from the original charge of rioting.

Despite protests from their attorneys, Joseph and Hyrum were hurried off to Carthage jail, only a few blocks away. Several friends and associates were allowed to stay with the Prophet and the patriarch that evening. On the next day, June 26, the treason hearing was held. No witnesses appeared, so Joseph and Hyrum were required to stay in jail until another hearing could be held, this one scheduled for June 29. But the conspiracy to murder the Prophet and his brother was already in motion.

On June 27, 1844, William stood as lookout on the roof of the county courthouse. It was hot and humid. Sometime near five o’clock, William noticed a group of about 100 men with blackened faces going toward the jail. He hurried to report the movement, but it was already too late. The soldiers assigned to protect the prisoners were outnumbered by the mob. They stormed the jail, rushed up the stairs, and fired shot after shot after shot. Then a yell that the Mormons were coming caught everyone’s attention, and the mob fled.

William went into the jail, where he saw the body of Hyrum Smith. Outside the jail, the Prophet Joseph also lay dead in a pool of blood. John Taylor was severely wounded. Willard Richards was only grazed on his ear by a bullet.2

This last year, Allyx has had a lot going on. She has a brain tumor. Most of the time, her hand and voice shake because of the tumor. Sometimes she has to go to the hospital for chemotherapy treatments. They make her feel weak and tired. When she feels better, we play again.
When Allyx has to be in the hospital, my mom and dad take me to see her. We have fun visiting her there, but I like it better when she gets to come home.
My mom and dad have been teaching me that when I am baptized, it doesn’t just mean that I’m a member of Jesus Christ’s church. It also means that I make special promises with Heavenly Father and Jesus. Some of them are that I am willing to bear another’s burdens that they may be light, to mourn with those who mourn, and to comfort those who stand in need of comfort. To me that means that when Allyx isn’t feeling well, I can still go sit with her and watch a video with her and keep her company. When she has to have her chemotherapy, I can pray for her and ask Heavenly Father to watch over her.

Late one afternoon we were approaching the mouth of a river at the end of Starvation Lake. As we pulled ashore, the canoe bump a boulder. We noticed a huge mound of fur nearby. I thought it was a dead animal until it move and Bob said, “It’s a grizzly bear. And it isn’t dead, it’s asleep.” We were less than 30 meters from it at that point. Suddenly, it stood up. I thought it would run away, as most bears do. But it was irritated. The hair on its neck raised up, it started swaying its head back and forth, its jaws started moving—you could hear the teeth clacking—and its ears were laid back. I grabbed the camera and Bob grabbed the gun, but we soon decided it wasn’t smart to stay close, and we backed into deeper water. Somehow we had to get by that grizzly.
We pulled into a small draw about 60 meters away and checked on the bear. It had lain back down. So we took the food packs up and came back for the canoe. When we checked on the bear again, it was gone. It couldn’t go to the right, because of the lake. So we knew it was either going parallel uphill or coming straight toward us. It knew where we were, but we didn’t know where it was. Bears will sometimes move up your trail and intercept you, and we were both scared. We knew it might come running over the hill any minute. Bob said, “Dad, can we pray, please?” After a prayer and with great caution, we started up the draw, me with the canoe over my head and Bob with the gun.
We reached the ridge about 30 meters from our packs, and it was waiting there for us. If it tasted the food in the packs, we would have to kill it to keep it from destroying the entire supply, and we didn’t want to do that. As a last desperate effort, and with prayer in my heart, I raised the canoe and shouted at the top of my lungs.
The bear swung its huge head around and saw a pair of legs, a body, and a 5 meter aluminum head growling at it. It was startled so badly it left running as fast as it could. It took us about four hours to get rid of the hollow feeling we had after that close encounter, but we both knew the prayer had helped us through.

Many years ago dear friends of mine, Craig Sudbury and his mother, Pearl, came to my office prior to Craig’s departure for the Australia Melbourne Mission. Fred Sudbury, Craig’s father, was noticeably absent. Twenty-five years earlier, Craig’s mother had married Fred, who did not share her love for the Church and, indeed, was not a member.

Craig confided to me his deep and abiding love for his parents and his hope that somehow, in some way, his father would be touched by the Spirit and open his heart to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I prayed for inspiration concerning how such a desire might be fulfilled. The inspiration came, and I said to Craig, “Serve the Lord with all your heart. Be obedient to your sacred calling. Each week write a letter to your parents, and on occasion, write to Dad personally, and let him know how much you love him, and tell him why you’re grateful to be his son.” He thanked me and, with his mother, departed the office.

I was not to see Craig’s mother for some 18 months, when she came to my office and, in sentences punctuated by tears, said to me, “It has been almost two years since Craig left for his mission. He has never failed in writing a letter to us each week. Recently, my husband, Fred, stood for the first time in a testimony meeting and surprised me and shocked everyone who was there by announcing that he had made the decision to become a member of the Church. He indicated that he and I would go to Australia to meet Craig at the conclusion of his mission so that Fred could be Craig’s final baptism as a full-time missionary.”

No missionary stood so tall as did Craig Sudbury when, in far-off Australia, he helped his father into water waist-deep and, raising his right arm to the square, repeated those sacred words: “Frederick Charles Sudbury, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”

Love had won its victory. Serve the Lord with love.

Most of my teachers believed in work and advocated good work habits. But the one who made me appreciate this principle most was a custodian-teacher by the name of Thatcher Smith.
Thatcher understood how much my friends and I loved to play basketball. It would have been simple for him on Saturday mornings to throw us a key to the gym and rid himself of our pleadings. Instead he insisted we clean out the furnace, dump the cinders, and clean the showers in exchange for playing basketball. We were required to work for our play.
Thatcher’s “gym rats” over a period of years became championship teams. Those same young men, in the passage of time, have worked and earned degrees and achievements in a variety of businesses and professions. Most have gained full understanding of the “sweat-of-thy-brow” concept.

Many years ago this conference heard of a young man who found the restored gospel while he was studying in the United States. As this man was about to return to his native land, President Gordon B. Hinckley asked him what would happen to him when he returned home as a Christian. “My family will be disappointed,” the young man answered. “They may cast me out and regard me as dead. As for my future and my career, all opportunity may be foreclosed against me.”

“Are you willing to pay so great a price for the gospel?” President Hinckley asked.

Tearfully the young man answered, “It’s true, isn’t it?” When that was affirmed, he replied, “Then what else matters?” That is the spirit of sacrifice among many of our new members.

Juliana was a little bit scared to give a talk in Primary.
Grandma gave Juliana a hug. “Heavenly Father will help you,” she whispered.
When it was her turn, Juliana saw her friends, her teacher, and Grandma and Grandpa all smiling at her. Then she gave her talk.
“I am a child of God. I show that I love Heavenly Father by learning about Jesus, saying my prayers, and helping my family. I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus love me too. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
After Primary, Juliana gave Grandma a big hug. “I wasn’t scared,” she said. “I knew that Heavenly Father was helping me.”

Blessings come from holding true to our principles. When I was the president of the Cottonwood stake, one of our stake patriarchs was Dr. Creed Haymond. He would occasionally bear strong testimony of the Word of Wisdom. As a young man he was the captain of the University of Pennsylvania track team. In 1919 Brother Haymond and his team were invited to participate in the annual Inter-Collegiate Association track meet. The night before the track meet his coach, Lawson Robertson, who coached several Olympic teams, instructed his team members to drink some sherry wine. In those days, coaches wrongly felt that wine was a tonic for muscles hardened through rigorous training. All the other team members took the sherry, but Brother Haymond refused because his parents had taught him the Word of Wisdom. Brother Haymond became very anxious because he did not like to be disobedient to his coach. He was to compete against the fastest men in the world. What if he made a poor showing the next day? How could he face his coach?

The next day at the track meet the rest of the team members were very ill and performed poorly or were even too sick to run. Brother Haymond, however, felt well and won the 100- and 220-yard dashes. His coach told him, “You just ran the two hundred and twenty yards in the fastest time it has ever been run by any human being.” That night and for the rest of his life, Creed Haymond was grateful for his simple faith in keeping the Word of Wisdom.

My name is Rachel. I live near the Paris France Temple.
The temple is really important to my family. Before the Paris Temple was built, we would go on family trips to the Frankfurt Germany Temple several times a year. It took 10 hours to drive there and back!
We loved watching the new temple be built. Every week after church, our parents drove by to let us see how the construction was going. First they tore down an old building and dug a big hole. Then they started building the temple higher and higher. Soon the house of the Lord was there!
My siblings and I are excited to go to the temple someday. My oldest sister, Esther, gets to do baptisms first. We are all waiting anxiously for our turn to go too. We love the temple and are happy to have one in our very own city!

When mother announced you were coming, I knew she was crazy-bonkers-looney. Look at it from my perspective. What in the world did I need with another brother? I already had four dribbling siblings to put up with.
Another brother?
Crazy!
Bonkers!
Looney!
Now, I’d never get that
Pendleton shirt I wanted or a
fiberglass-and-resin-coated
balsa monolith.
No surfing board for me.
Another brother.
Insane!
Why Tracy, the youngest of the Jones boys, was
already in kindergarten.
Mother was infant-free at last.
Why start all over again with babies?
You came anyway,
despite my cogent, lucid, and
insightful protests.
Rationality did not prevail.
The biology was already in motion.
I was 12 at the time.
A deacon.
And before long I was ordained
your babysitter,
while mother went to Dales Market
or Giacapuzzi Dairy
or Reseda II Ward Primary.
And that was way before Pampers and
Luvs.
I hated it—tending
toddler you.
Another brother.
What had I done to deserve such a harsh
judgment?
Somehow I managed to tolerate year one of your
existence.
But year two,
that’s when I came to understand the
devastation of
atomic warfare.
Every day I’d come home from high school
to find my room
nuked.
A tornado was a birthday party
compared to what you did to my very personal and
very teenage-important things.
I’m talking about you,
Intradomicile Ballistic Missile expert,
Guy Alexander Jones.
Soon life became complicated
for me
entangled with permanent relationships and
Shock—children of my own.
You were still my brother
in a statistical sense of the word.
Of course, you were at all the Jones family
functions and get-togethers.
Even went to Niagara Falls with us one year.
But you were
just another brother.
Until last winter
when you came to live with us
up in Provo town.
I remember the first day
when you, GuyBeau, came to stay.
We trekked on down to D.I. just above Provo River
and rummaged through the salvaged bedding.
The boxspring was a steal at 8 dollars
and the mattress a real D.I. bargain at 55,
But at least you had a bed of your own.
For four months you became
part of the Utah Joneses,
part of us,
living under the same asphalt shingles
sharing the same forced-air heating
watching the same fuzzy TV.
Sometimes we’d talk late into the night
about the categorical differences between
Mod and New Wave and Prep.
(You, of course, always wore topsiders with no socks.)
And sometimes we discussed
what a tremendous spiritual experience it was
taking an exam in the
Harold B. Lee Testing Center.
When you weren’t talking with us
or sleeping
or protecting Cosmo, our cat, from the kids,
you ate
a wholesome and nutritious diet of
pork’n beans and chocolate chip cookies for
dinner
and blended eggs (not fork-whipped mind you) but
blended eggs for breakfast and …
MALTS.
Malts for lunch and
malts for any time in between and
malts for when Connie’s letters didn’t come and
malts for those times the Harold B. Lee Testing
Center wasn’t a spiritual experience.
Justin and Nathan and Kristen loved having you
around.
You were the greatest Big Kid ever
to come play at our house.
You did legos and tinkertoys,
colored Easter eggs and showed the boys
how to play soccer.
You subbed for me when I was tied up
making ends meet and
meeting the ends of professorial demands.
And every Monday you took more than your
part in our FHEs.
April 23 Winter Semester ended.
You had to go home to make money for a mission.
We watched from the big glass window
in the converted garage as you pulled away to go
back to California.
By April 24th I knew something was wrong.
Luella noticed it too.
Our family was somehow smaller
less whole
in your absence.
That’s when I knew you would no longer be
just another brother.

Painting the signs has helped Raegan and Rylyn through challenges. “When Kendall was sick, there were times we didn’t really want to be in the house because it was hard for us to see. So we decided to go and paint, and that lifted the load a lot,” Raegan says.
Kendall eventually passed away at age 16. Raegan says, “It was hard, but we knew that families are forever. We knew that even if we didn’t have much time with her, if we do our part, it’ll help us be closer to being with Kendall and Kallen again.”

Sister Gayle Clegg of the Primary general presidency and her husband lived for a number of years in Brazil. Recently she had a Primary assignment in Japan. As she came into the chapel on Sunday, she noticed among the Japanese Saints a Brazilian family. “They just looked Brazilian,” she said. She only had a minute to greet them and found the mother and children very enthusiastic but noticed that the father was rather quiet. “I’ll have a chance to talk with them after the meeting,” she thought as she was quickly ushered to the stand. She delivered her message in English, which was translated into Japanese, and then she felt impressed to bear her testimony in Portuguese as well. She hesitated, as there were no translators for Portuguese and 98 percent of the people would not understand what she said.

After the meeting the Brazilian father came up to her and said, “Sister, the customs are so different here, and I have been lonely. It is difficult to come to church and not understand anything. Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off just reading my scriptures at home. I told my wife, ‘I’ll give it one more chance,’ and I came today for what I thought would be the last time. When you bore your testimony in Portuguese, the Spirit touched my heart, and I knew that this was where I belonged. God knows I am here, and He will help me.” And he joined the others in putting away the chairs.

Was it a coincidence that the only Portuguese-speaking member of the Primary presidency was sent to Japan instead of to Portugal? Or was it because the Lord knew someone there needed what only she could give—and she had the courage to follow a prompting of the Spirit? One of the great blessings of having a calling in the Church is that the Lord, through His Spirit, will inspire us to help those we are called to serve.

Neighbors are a blessing because they help us and also because we can help them. As a young man preparing for a mission, I had a neighbor who was a wonderful missionary. I shoveled his walks in the winter and mowed his lawns in the summer. Each time I finished, he invited me into his home and shared some of the finest Dutch chocolate in the form of an orange ball. It was sent to him by a person he had baptized as a missionary.

When he shared that chocolate, he also shared his mission and the love he felt for those great people of Holland he taught. Our conversations and his love for missionary work were an important part of my decision to serve a mission.

His employment was interrupted by a 15-month stint in the Yugoslavian army, where he was exposed to “all kinds of people, good and bad,” he says. “I learned that I wasn’t supposed to think too much but do only what I was told. I came to believe that all people are selfish and are ready to walk all over those who are weaker. I became distrustful of others and relied only on myself. I didn’t feel any real emotions at that time.”
After his military assignment, Albin returned to his job but felt restless and dissatisfied. He eventually quit his job to study computer and information technology at the university. But he was still not finding joy in life. “On weekends my friends and I would have what we called fun—wandering from place to place, drinking alcohol, and flirting with girls we met,” he says. “I wasn’t happy because I felt empty inside. It all seemed fake.”
Then in 1987 he met Boza Gartner, a young woman he had known briefly before, and they began dating. And in June 1989, he was accepted as an international student trainee for three months at a company in Stavanger, Norway. He moved to Norway, started his internship, and met the missionaries a few weeks later.
“A young man holding a book stopped me on the street,” Albin says. “He said something to me in Norwegian, and his book was written in Norwegian. I explained in English that I didn’t understand a word he said and that I had no intention of taking any book, especially one in a language I did not understand.” To his surprise the missionary, an American, responded in English and offered to get Albin a copy of the Book of Mormon in English. Albin politely gave the missionary his address, but he hoped nothing would come of it.
A few days later the missionaries arrived at his door and gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon in English. They later gave him a copy in Croatian, which he could also read. (A Slovenian edition did not yet exist.) Albin’s conversations with the missionaries caused him to think about his religious beliefs.
“I had always believed in God,” he says. “And I prayed almost daily—but my prayers were ones I was taught as a Catholic, and I was only subconsciously repeating words. I didn’t believe my church was true, but I wasn’t looking for an alternative.”
Although parts of the Book of Mormon were interesting, he says, “I had no spiritual witness while reading it.” And when he attended the Stavanger Branch in Norway—a stranger who knew no one and didn’t speak the language—he initially felt uncomfortable.
But he liked what he saw and felt at church, and the members welcomed him warmly. “They were extremely kind to me,” he says. “They showed great interest in me by asking where I was from and what I was doing in the town. They invited me to come again. When I did, they accepted me as a part of their family.”
Now he felt more motivated to study the Book of Mormon and pray about it. “I prayed more and more,” he says, “waiting to get some kind of answer. Then one day while I was reading the words of Moroni, the answer came—unexpected, unannounced. I felt the Holy Ghost giving me indescribable feelings, and my mind was enlightened. At that same moment I was aware of all my sins, and I began to cry. I had never cried because of a book before. In that moment I knew the Holy Ghost was present with me, and I was thankful to the Lord.”
Albin was baptized on his 26th birthday, 19 August 1989. “I was a completely different man now than when I went to Norway in June,” he says. “My soul was clean, my sins were forgiven, and I was starting a new life much different from the one before. I felt glad, peaceful, and safe.” He also felt the nudges of the Holy Ghost—hinting of spiritual responsibilities that awaited him at home.
When he learned that the Church had not yet been established in Slovenia and that, as far as he knew, no Church members lived there, he realized the importance of learning all he could during his few remaining weeks in Norway. He continued attending Church meetings, family home evenings, and other activities; received the Aaronic Priesthood; had many discussions with missionaries, members, and Church leaders; and read the Doctrine and Covenants in English.
“I was worried about being left on my own back home,” he says. “I prayed that God would give me strength to explain my beliefs to my girlfriend, my parents, and others. I knew it would be difficult, but I also knew God would help me as long as I remained worthy.”
The closest branch in what was then the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia was in Zagreb, Croatia—three hours away from Albin’s home in Slovenia. He later learned there was a branch a little more than an hour away, in Klagenfurt, Austria. For more than a year he attended the branch in Austria every Sunday, even though his ability to speak German was limited. “The branch president and all the members were very friendly and kind,” he says. He received the Melchizedek Priesthood and served in his first Church callings in the Klagenfurt Branch. And his girlfriend, Boza, often went with him. Sister missionaries taught her the gospel.
“It took me almost six months to get my own testimony,” says Boza. “The Book of Mormon had not yet been translated into Slovenian, and it was difficult for me to read it in Croatian. One Sunday in 1990 I went to a nearby grove to pray for the answer, just like Joseph Smith did. The answer came in the middle of the prayer as an exceptional warmth around my heart. I thought at first that this warmth came from the sun—but the sun had already gone down, and the warm feeling was still there. I felt peace and knew from that moment on that God wanted me to accept His gospel.” Albin baptized her in the Klagenfurt Branch in March 1990.
In December of that year, the first two full-time missionaries were assigned to Slovenia, and soon the first baptisms in that land took place. In the summer of 1991, Slovenia proclaimed independence from Yugoslavia. After a tense 10-day war, the matter was peacefully resolved. A few months later, on 22 December 1991, the first branch in Slovenia was organized, with Albin Lotric as branch president.
The next year, in July 1992, Albin and Boza were married in Slovenia and then sealed in the Frankfurt Germany Temple—the first couple living in Slovenia to be sealed. “I could not have found a better, more understanding wife,” Albin says. “She gives me strength with her love and encouragement. It is especially wonderful to be together in the temple, to review the plan of salvation and enter into an eternal bond together. It gives perspective to all other activities in life.”
Their three children were born in the covenant: Lea Martina, April 1993; Flora Ema, January 1995; and Benjamin Luka, November 1996. “My wife and I are trying to plant the seeds of a gospel-centered life in the hearts of our children,” Albin says, “so they will be strong enough to face the challenges that will come and so they will be able to stand up for their beliefs.” The children are learning about the gospel through family home evening and scripture study, using the illustrated Book of Mormon Stories, which has been translated into Slovenian. Albin and Boza are helping them learn to recognize answers to their simple prayers.
“The Lord is blessing us abundantly,” Albin says. “I am trying to return this blessing by being faithful in the Church and trying to be a good husband and father.”
With the Church still in its infancy in Slovenia, President and Sister Lotric and other pioneering Saints continue giving much to assist in its growth. Sister Lotric serves in the auxiliaries and is writing a history of the Church in Slovenia. And after serving as branch president for seven years, President Lotric was called in April 1998 to his current assignment as Slovenia’s first district president. Over the years he has represented the Church on national television and radio, in newspapers and magazines, and in legal matters.
Meanwhile his career has blossomed. With university degrees in business administration and computer science, he currently works in the information technology department of the Slovenian ministry of finance. He enjoys friendly associations with colleagues and feels that most of them respect his lifestyle and beliefs. “To live according to the teachings of this Church requires many demands of the members,” he says. “But I know from my own experience that the resulting blessings bring much more joy than any earthly thing.”
One of his most memorable assignments has been to serve on the translation team for the Slovenian edition of the Book of Mormon, which is expected to be completed soon. “When the Book of Mormon comes forth with all its divinity and power,” says President Lotric, “the gates of heaven will open wide. The Spirit will testify even more mightily to the people of Slovenia that the word of God has once more been revealed to the children of men and that there is no name given under the heavens but the name of Jesus Christ through which salvation can come.”
Map by Thomas S. Child
In July 1999, nearly 10 years after Albin’s baptism, the Slovenia Ljubljana Mission—which includes various countries of the former Yugoslavia—was created. In Slovenia itself, a nation of two million inhabitants, there are now 200 members, one district, and three branches—in Ljubljana, Celje, and Maribor. Local leaders and members are learning to fellowship new converts. Couples have been sealed in the temple. Young men and women from Slovenia are serving full-time missions in many parts of the world. And members in Slovenia can now receive the Liahona in their own language.
“I know this is just a beginning,” says President Lotric. “I have a vision of the Saints blossoming like a rose in this country.”
Was it worth anyone’s time to befriend a stranger in a foreign land and teach him the gospel, knowing that in three months he would return to his home in a nation where the Church had not yet been established?
“The ways of our Lord are sometimes unpredictable and beyond human imagination,” says Albin Lotric. “He chose a wonderful way to present the gospel to me.”

Ariana walked slowly down the sidewalks which at that time of the morning were beginning to fill with people rushing from one place to the next. Many were going to work, while others were taking their children to school. The intersections became congested with traffic and some drivers became impatient in their rush to get to their destinations on time.
Ariana had just walked Sandra, her daughter, to school. There was a school bus, but she preferred to take the child to school herself every day. She enjoyed the morning walk, as well as the evening walk when she went to pick her up, and it also gave her the chance to spend precious minutes with her little Sandra.
They always talked as they walked. The child had so many things to say, so many little secrets to share, so many laughs to laugh. This tiny little person opened a whole new world to Ariana that was fascinating to explore and discover.
This morning, however, Ariana already felt tired and even a little sad. Her husband was out of town for a few days and she missed the comfort and support she received as a wife and mother, and in her Church callings. And also there was another child on the way.
Suddenly Ariana felt overwhelmed by the countless things that she had to attend to, and too tired to walk all the way back home. Her brisk stroll was part of her physical exercise program, but this morning something inside of her was rebelling. The distance to her home seemed just too far to walk. She decided to wait for the bus at the next stop.
While she waited, she reflected sadly that her decision hadn’t alleviated her feeling of discouragement. Nevertheless, something inside of her made her stay. She thought of her husband, who at that time would be driving his car far from home on unfamiliar roads. His work demanded extensive travel and she always feared that something would happen to him.
She also thought of Sister Lago, who was sick with hepatitis, and who could barely get out of bed. Ariana was her visiting teacher and she wondered how she could further help Sister Lago without neglecting her own responsibilities.
Her thoughts turned to little Sandra, who had been sick with a cold for three days, and she wondered if she should take her to the doctor.
It also occurred to her that she should write to her mother, as it had been a long time since she had done so. Now that Ariana and her brothers and sisters were grown and living away from home, their parents must feel quite lonely.
As these thoughts passed through her mind, and as she reflected on all the responsibilities that awaited her that day and in the days to come, she again felt overwhelmed and wished her husband were home so she could turn to him.
Standing on the crowded bus, she remembered something else: she had forgotten that she needed to buy some tomatoes for the salad she was going to make. If she had walked, she would have bought them on the way. The bus would pass in front of several supermarkets, but it wouldn’t stop.
She sighed, feeling even more melancholy, and on doing so felt the impulse to look to her left. Close to her, also standing, was another woman whose eyes met hers. A little embarrassed, Ariana decided to smile, to which the unknown woman responded fleetingly and then looked in the other direction.
Ariana’s thoughts returned to the tomatoes. “I’ll get off one stop before mine, and I’ll buy them at Alfredo’s store,” she decided. “Then I’ll walk home. It’s not very far.”
A seat became vacant and Ariana hurried to take it. But as she was sitting down, she accidentally collided with the woman who had looked at her a few moments earlier.
“Excuse me,” they both said at the same time.
“Sit down,” offered Ariana.
“No, please, you take it,” the stranger declined.
Ariana thanked her and dropped into the vacant seat, truly grateful. The bus continued on and for a few moments Ariana looked at the woman. She was plainly dressed and her eyes looked tired and sad. They were light brown and had large circles under them. Then the stranger turned around abruptly, and Ariana smiled again, this time a little flustered at having been caught watching her. Turning to look out the window at the morning traffic, she wondered why she felt there was still something else that she should do that day. The feeling had persisted and it had nothing to do with the tomatoes.
A few minutes later, the seat next to her was vacated and she quickly advised the woman. “Ma’am, there’s a vacant seat here,” she said smiling. The woman mumbled a “Thank you” and sat down beside her. Each time Ariana glanced at the woman, she’d discover that this stranger was also looking at her. She decided to start a conversation.
“We’re having a delightful autumn aren’t we?” The woman didn’t seem too eager to talk, but Ariana felt a warmth toward her. In an effort to encourage her, Ariana told her about her poor memory and how she had forgotten that she should have walked home because she needed to buy some tomatoes.
“If you’d like,” the woman responded, “I could sell you some of my tomatoes. I grow them in my own yard and right now I’ve got too many.”
“I would like that very much,” exclaimed Ariana enthusiastically. “Homegrown things are always better anyway, aren’t they?”
When the stranger told her that she lived three stops past Ariana’s, Ariana hesitated for a moment. She would have to go past her house and then return home loaded down with the tomatoes. That would be a waste of time, and she couldn’t allow herself to waste time when she had so many things to do. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to offend this woman, whom she was beginning to like, and so she agreed to go with her.
By the time they got off the bus, Ariana had found out that the woman’s name was Teresa. Together they walked along a row of small houses with yards until they came to a humble, but very clean and well-cared-for house.
“How marvelous!” exclaimed Ariana. “I’ve always wanted a home with a yard. We live in an apartment, and sometimes we feel caged in.”
Teresa smiled, but said nothing, as she led Ariana around to the back of the house, where she had her small garden. The two women began to pick tomatoes, putting them in a little basket which Teresa had let Ariana use. While picking, Teresa began to open up and talk more. She told Ariana that she had recently been widowed, and that her only child had to quit school and go to work in a factory so that they could make ends meet.
With the little basket full and her back hurting a little from the exertion, Teresa asked:
“Would you like to come in for a nice hot drink before you go?”
Ariana thought despairingly, “Time! I can’t; I can’t waste any more time!” But something urged her to say, “Yes, I’d love to.”
A few minutes later, they were seated across from each other at the kitchen table with cups of steaming hot chocolate. Little by little, Teresa began to tell Ariana about herself.
“It was funny how we happened to keep looking at each other on the bus,” she said, laughing. “Nothing like it has ever happened to me before. I’ve been so lonely, so lonely. …”
Suddenly her eyes clouded and Ariana thought she saw pain and sadness in them. Teresa started to talk of the financial struggle that she and her husband had had since they were married, and how he had often been unemployed, and of the many hardships they had gone through so that their daughter could get an education, only to see her quit half way through and go to work in a trade where she was practically a slave.
Then Teresa became even more serious and, almost as if talking to herself, asked why it sometimes felt as if God were looking in the other direction. It felt as if no one in the whole world, including God, loved her. As she spoke the lines around her mouth hardened and her eyes took on a bitter expression.
Ariana searched desperately for something to say. Surely there was something in the gospel for this sweet and anguished sister. But she could think of nothing. Any words of comfort seemed vain and empty against the burden of reality that this woman had experienced.
“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this,” mumbled Teresa, looking down.
Ariana responded, not knowing who put the words in her mouth: “Because the Lord has sent me.”
Teresa broke into tears. At first Ariana thought that she should say something to comfort her, but she soon saw that her new friend was crying out of gratitude.
They looked at each other in silence. Ariana felt very peaceful now. “Neither take ye thought beforehand what ye shall say;” the Lord said, “but treasure up in your minds continually the words of life, and it shall be given you in the very hour that portion that shall be meted unto every man.” (D&C 84:85.) That is how it had happened. The spirit had inspired her to say the exact words that Teresa needed to hear.
“I want to know more about you,” said Teresa. “I want us to be friends.”
Ariana took her by the hand. “Can you see that the Lord never looks away?” she said gently.
“Do you belong to any kind of church?” Teresa asked curiously. Ariana began to tell her and Teresa listened with great interest. When Ariana invited her to attend their next family home evening, Teresa assured her that she would be there with her daughter.
“We have been searching for the light for so long,” she added, while they both stood up.
They hugged each other for a few moments and then Ariana picked up her purse, her coat and her tomatoes. Once in the street, she felt relieved and strengthened. “Truly, only in the service of our fellow men do we find happiness,” she thought. “That is the secret.”
It was late and lunch would be delayed that day. She would prepare a good salad and would take it to Sister Lago and they would eat it together. She would make an appointment with the pediatrician and have him look at Sandra as soon as possible to set her mind at ease. That night she would call her husband at the hotel and try to be the one to give encouragement. She would tell him, “We are thinking of you here at home and we love you.” Later, after putting Sandra to bed and before going to bed herself, she would write a letter to her mother and send her the recipe she asked for so long ago.
A spirit of joy flooded her heart, and while she waited at the curb for the light to turn green, she realized that the feeling of still having something else to do had left her. She had listened to the whisperings of the spirit, and had put the kingdom of God first, and everything else had been added unto her.