Gospel Story Finder

One such story is about the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light”. It describes the Savior as a guiding light during our personal moments of darkness.

As a young Catholic Priest from England, John Henry Newman became very ill while visiting Italy in 1833. He was unable to travel for almost three weeks and during that time became despondent with his situation. He sat on his bed and sobbed bitterly. When asked by his nurse what was wrong, all he could answer was that he had “work to do in England.” Finally, he was able to gain passage on an orange boat bound for Marseilles; one step closer to England. While passing through the Straits of Bonifacio the ship was beset by a dense fog. For one week the ship sat anchored, unable to move, surrounded by a thick, gray fog. It was during this time that John Newman pleaded for the Savior’s help and penned the words to the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light”

In the early days of the Brigham Young Academy, the building that housed the school burnt to the ground. Many thought the fire signaled the end of the Academy. Reed Smoot lamented to Karl G. Maeser that the school had been destroyed. But Brother Maeser knew better.

On Sunday, January 27, 1884, flames erupted from the second floor of the building. The cause of the fire was never determined, but it didn’t matter. Provo had no fire department and the Academy had no insurance. Townspeople rushed to form a bucket brigade, but their efforts were futile. They removed what books and furniture they could, then they just stood and watched the building burn. Reed Smoot, one of the school’s first 29 students, was among them. He would later become a U.S. senator and an apostle of the Lord. He approached Karl Maeser grief-stricken that the Academy had burned down. But Karl set his jaw. “No! Fire has destroyed the house, but the Academy lives on.”

Even so, it took a prophetic dream regarding BYU’s future to persuade Brother Maeser to stay here during those difficult days and years that ­followed the fire.

Nevertheless, despite Karl’s determination, the next eight years were dark indeed. The school ­occupied several temporary buildings, including the Smoot Drugstore, and finally settled into a warehouse leased from ZCMI. But facilities were makeshift and supplies depleted. Karl struggled to pay the rent. At first the faculty were fiercely loyal, but then their families began going hungry. There was talk of closing the school. Even Karl himself wrote of giving up the cause: “I am worn out and sick in spirit, . . . and with all my love for this Academy, I feel that I owe it to my very life, which is needlessly wearing itself out here in an apparently hopeless task, to accept any change that will promise me opportunities for permanent usefulness.”

[With] that he told his wife and his daughter that [because there seemed to be no real support or future for a school here,] he was going to accept a position at the University of Deseret, where he could get a regular salary and [at least] adequately provide for his family. Accordingly his wife and daughter got things packed—and then sat on their trunks for [several] days, until his daughter finally mustered enough courage to ask her father when they were moving. His response . . . was, “I have changed my mind. I have had a dream—I have seen Temple Hill filled with buildings—great temples of learning, and I have decided to remain and do my part.”

Then one day, eight years later, Felipe met some missionaries. They were from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They taught him about living prophets, who spoke God’s words. This was just what Felipe had hoped for!
Felipe was excited to join the Church. He became one of the first missionaries from the Philippines to share the gospel there. Again, God had shown Felipe where to go—and Felipe knew God always would.

The story is told of a company president who hired an efficiency expert to observe his operation and recommend improvements. After several days, the efficiency expert returned with a glowing report and only a single negative observation: one senior employee with an office just down the hallway from the president. Every time the consultant passed his office, he appeared to be sitting back in his chair just staring at the ceiling. The company president thanked the efficiency expert for his report, then commented that a few years ago that very same employee had come up with an idea that had saved the company millions of dollars and that as best he could recall, the idea had come to him when he was sitting just that way: in his office and staring at the ceiling.

This example is not intended to recommend that valued employees sit in their offices doing nothing or to suggest that a single heroic contribution at work will guarantee you a lifetime of leisure. But it does refute our natural tendency to regard that time spent "doing nothing" may be time wasted; some of my most fruitful and innovative ideas have been spawned during my leisure moments—moments of contemplative pondering or relaxing recreation.

Speaking many years ago in general conference, I told of a phrase that entered my mind as I wondered if I was prepared to serve a mission. The phrase was “You don’t know everything, but you know enough!”9 A young woman sitting in general conference that day told me that she was praying over a proposal for marriage, wondering how well she knew the young man. When I spoke the words “You don’t know everything, but you know enough,” the Spirit confirmed to her that she did know him well enough. They have been happily married for many years.

I have always had a great love for music, as most of you do today. Yes, our music was different, but it was just as enjoyable to us as yours is to you today. I played the piano in a small dance band. We played for dances around town and quite often my date would accompany me as my friends and I played. She would sit at the side of the piano and listen to the music and smile at me as I played and tried to earn a few dollars to help with high school and college. We’d have good visits at intermission, and I’d take her home after such a date where often the only pleasure she’d had was sitting, listening to dance music, and tapping her foot to the beat of the drum. When I was 17 I was the ward organist, and many times I would take my date to the church so that I could practice the organ, and she would sit and listen. This may well have been because I didn’t have any money, much more than because of her deep love for music, but we started a relationship in doing that and we found that we both liked music. I played the hymns and they brought a lovely spirit to our times together in a chapel as hymns were played with intermittent talk, perhaps followed by a five-cent ice cream cone when I took her home. Now, any one of you reading this might think these were strange kinds of dates, but the important thing in any generation is to find uplifting things you can enjoy together and do them! There’s nothing more boring—and potentially dangerous—than a date that starts out, “Well, what do you want to do?” Be creative, be enthusiastic, and prepare by thinking about the kinds of things that will help you get to know each other better. Decide well in advance where you are going, what you will do, and what time you will be home.

Young men and women should continually prepare for conversation—an important part of any date. Each young man or woman reading this might well ask, “What subjects am I prepared to talk about?” Talking and listening attentively add depth to dating.

Are you interesting? Are you aware of what is going on in the world? Can you discuss several subjects intelligently? Are you a good listener? Do you talk too much? Not enough?

It seems to me that quality young people are searching for other young people of high caliber who dress and act modestly, understand conversation, have high standards of behavior, and are refined yet “down to earth.”

On many occasions our children have had dinners on a tennis court. It was interesting to watch them plan who would attend, where the food would come from, and what type of date would want to spread a checkered cloth on a piece of cement and have a picnic on a tennis court. On another occasion this same group had dinner inside a playhouse and acted like they were on the roof garden of an elegant hotel. It was interesting to watch them plan and grow and develop as they made assignments and had a truly wonderful time without it costing very much.

Dates can be fun and wholesome without spending a lot of money. Young men and young women alike should be cautious about overspending and taxing resources unnecessarily on frills that are not necessary to have a good time.

Young men should treat their dates with respect and honor in every sense and on every occasion. Good manners and actions appropriate to age and culture are just as important today as they were ten, twenty, thirty, or fifty years ago. Young women, too, should behave accordingly and be concerned about manner of dress, speech, and actions while on a date.

How pleasant it was to have a young man take one of my daughters on a date and tell me as they left where they were going and what time I could expect them home. This type of young man is going to impress many fathers and mothers and, of course, will impress the daughters, who are most important.

It is wise to date in groups. There is safety in numbers. Doctrine and Covenants 6:12 tells us, “Trifle not with sacred things.” [D&C 6:12] What is more sacred than virtue?

My wife and I recently attended a high school reunion. How grateful I was for the dates I had in high school! Meeting these good friends many years later, I was very grateful I had no sad memories of dates that were not what they should have been.

Always conduct each date so that you can meet the person many years later and have no regrets about what took place. Don’t ever trade a lifetime of happy gospel living for a brief moment of promiscuous pleasure.

Dating can be a wonderful stage of life with many rewards. Plan well, enjoy your date, and use the time to meet and make many wonderful friends. Let those friendships lead you to a lifetime of happiness that can and will be yours as you work toward the blessings of the temple and as you seek to find the one who can join you for a temple marriage and an eternal family unit based on living the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Eliza R. Snow was one of the great women of the Restoration. She was smart, she was energetic, and she was truly converted to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. But, life in those early days of the LDS church was filled with exhausting, difficult and never-ending tasks—and disappointments. Eliza, herself, would never have children or a home of her own, yet she lived her life—joyously—in the shade of Big Ideas.

Let me show you what I mean by that: In October 1845 she was living in an attic room in Nauvoo. It was a small, difficult to stand up in, and sparsely furnished it must have seemed a discouraging place in the wake of the martyrdom of Joseph Smith and the subsequent pressures and strains on the saints in Nauvoo. It was at this time that she received news of her beloved father’s death. Against that backdrop, using a trunk for a desk, she penned the words that we know as the hymn “O My Father.” It isn’t a litany of her woes; it isn’t small in any way. It is a hymn to the whole glorious plan. She speaks of the pre-existence, she notes that her Heavenly Father placed her on this earth for a wise and glorious purpose. She concludes that when she has completed all you sent me forth to do, with your mutual approbation, let me come and dwell with you.” As you and I see our daily tasks in terms of His Wise and Glorious Purposes, it changes everything!

Just five years ago, in August 1975, thousands of Japanese Saints assembled in Tokyo for the first area conference in Asia of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The meetings were held in the Budokan, a large public assembly hall centrally located in the heart of the metropolis and capable of seating thousands of people. On this memorable date, President Spencer W. Kimball opened the conference with the building filled to capacity and announced that a temple of the Lord would be built in Japan. As President Kimball made this announcement, the audience gasped and an excited murmur filled the air. Many of the Saints wept as they were filled with the spirit. They were witnessing the culmination of prayer, faith and hope. They envisioned where instructions from the Most High will be received, and will be so constructed as to enable all of the functions of the Priesthood to be fully exercised. They were witnessing the development of events which are unfolding in these latter days of fulfillment of prophecy.
With President Kimball’s announcement, the necessary steps were taken for the temple construction. Servants of the Lord were sent out to find a plot of land to build the temple. Several sites were considered and after much deliberation and prayer, it was decided that the temple would be located on the site of the old Tokyo Mission Home. This building and land had been purchased by the Church shortly after the end of World War II and had since been used by thousands of missionaries. For many of these missionaries, the old home was the first place they stayed upon arrival in Japan. Most would testify that many sacred and spiritual experiences were manifested here.
Seemingly this sacred and hallowed ground was divinely chosen for the construction of the House of the Lord. The site borders a beautifully landscaped Arisugawa Memorial Park along the eastern frontage separated only by a road leading from the Hiroo Subway Station which is just a few minutes walking distance away.
With the construction site selected and approved, design drawings were prepared under the direction of the church architect, Brother Emil B. Fetzer. As these were being drawn, people in Tokyo were busy gearing up for the months and years of difficult negotiations which would be necessary to obtain construction permits to build the temple in the Minami Azabu district, which is an affluent area of Tokyo with neighboring foreign diplomatic missions and embassies. Negotiations with area residents to gain approval for building the temple went slowly. Many of the local people worried about the effects the new building would have on life in the area. One big problem was conforming to the “Sunshine Law” in Tokyo, which requires a certain amount of compensation for any amount of sunlight which is lost due to the shadow cast by multi-story construction.
The months passed following President Kimball’s announcement. Months turned to years and two of the close neighbors continued to put up road blocks to impede the construction of the temple. Time and again word was passed among the Saints that everything was cleared and construction would soon begin. But new problems would arise which prevented the work from commencing. As an example, the church architects learned that the Japanese construction requirements were much more stringent in many respects than anticipated. This was mainly due to the frequency of earthquakes and typhoons in the islands of Japan. These building codes were found to be quite different from the customary standard codes and considerable additional study and architectural review were necessary to make sure that their plans did not conflict with the building codes of Japan.
In the spring of 1978, the decision was made to commence with the construction of the Tokyo Temple, though there were still many problems to be resolved. There were pockets of resistance among some of the neighbors, but it was mandatory to have on record a “commencement of construction”. This phase of work though not fully designed was the only assurance that the temple could be constructed as designed by the Church architect. The structure included a full basement, four floors above ground and a 25 meter symbol tower built into the penthouse structure located on the temple roof to house the mechanical controls. The currently approved construction permit would expire if the design did not conform with any of the newly promulgated sunshine laws. We were concerned that all of our design plans would have to be abandoned and a completely new design of less stature would have to be drawn up. To realize benefits of time and effort expended in the past in planning and design, the decision of Brother McPhie, Director of Temples and Special Projects, to proceed was an answer to our prayers. Missionaries were vacated from the mission home to start preparation for the demolition work. Kajima Corporation was awarded the Tokyo Temple construction contract and the church issued a notice to proceed commencing March 10, 1978.

I was in Charlotte, North Carolina, attending a zone conference, and Reggie, a young black university student, came to the conference. He had on a new pair of Levi’s that still had the four pieces of thread where the price tag had been. He wasn’t doing very well financially. He had bought them for the zone conference and had on a white shirt and tie that I think the missionaries loaned him. In a discussion he said to me, “I was taught two or three discussions. After the discussions they invited me to church. When I got to church Satan met me outside the door and he said, ‘You can’t go in there. That is a white man’s church.’ Satan tried to play the ‘colors’ game on me.”

That was interesting to me because Reggie said he went inside because he knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, that the Book of Mormon was true, and that he had found more love and caring than he had known before. He said he felt like a poor beggar who had stumbled upon a field of diamonds and wanted to share with everyone he met.

In an effort to accomplish all of my goals, I found myself overwhelmed with worldly pressures, decisions, and cares. I was staying up late and missing meals, working for many hours at a time. All of these things were taking their toll on my emotional well-being. I felt frustrated and unable to handle my problems.
I prayed, hoping to receive an assurance that all would be well. Instead, I heard the still, small voice say, “Keep the Word of Wisdom.” I felt puzzled and disappointed. I didn’t smoke or drink alcoholic beverages, and I had never drunk coffee or tea. How could the counsel to keep the Word of Wisdom apply to me?
I thought about the many times my friends had mentioned feeling discouraged and unequal to their tasks. Most of them had risen above those feelings and had carried on with their lives. But among those who usually felt inadequate, the common problem seemed to be their priorities—they put themselves last on their own lists. They never took time for regular meals, and they rarely got to bed before midnight. Reluctantly, I admitted that I was making the same mistakes and that I needed to change.
First, I stopped thinking about things that weren’t necessary and concentrated on the things that really matter. I worked on getting up early so I would be sleepy early. I ate nourishing food, and I exercised—consistently! As I developed these habits, I was able to plan better, and I began to feel in control of my life. Many of my previous worries now seemed unimportant, and I was free to direct my thoughts and feelings to other things.

When the time came for me to serve a mission, I felt a desire to bless the people in neighboring Uganda with the gospel, but I also wanted to teach the people in Zimbabwe, home of the missionary who had baptized me.
I prayed, but in my heart, I saw no way I could serve in two countries located far apart. Soon, I received my call to Zimbabwe, but while I was in the missionary training center in Johannesburg, South Africa, my visa was delayed. I was redirected to Uganda, where I served for eight months before receiving visa clearance for Zimbabwe.
“The Lord has His mysterious ways,” I thought to myself.

Other preparatory episodes in his life show divine design. Not long after young Elder Faust’s arrival in Brazil, Elder Wm. Grant Bangerter, his second missionary companion, welcomed Elder Faust at a time when missionaries were having very little success. The senior companion watched young Elder Faust boldly approach one of his first houses. Elder Bangerter skeptically thought he wouldn’t be able to converse enough to do any good. Elder Bangerter even turned his back on Brother Faust to emphasize that the contact was Brother Faust’s, not his! But young Elder Faust’s conversation with the woman at the window led to the Dedo-Valeixo family’s joining the Church (see Ensign, October 1986, page 6).

My father was a builder of big buildings, some well known. So when I returned from my two-year mission to Japan and wanted summer work, I ended up forty feet down at the bottom of an air conditioning shaft, stripping forms from freshly poured concrete. My captive coworker, Chuck, made the mistake of asking why I would “waste two valuable years like that.” I am sure he had no idea what he was in for, and I unleashed my abundance of missionary zeal.
At some point in our discussion I heard a noise overhead and saw the familiar silhouette of my father leaning over the shaft. What he said was a surprise: “Chuck, I don’t know what he’s saying down there, but I believe it is true. Now get back to work.”
This is for me the most treasured testimony my father bore, but I hope we can surpass that level of communication today.

I sat in the temple waiting to do baptisms for the dead, and I prayed. I was 20 years old, and I wanted to know: Should I serve a full-time mission? I had been feeling that the answer was no, but I wanted to ask once and for all.
Suddenly I shivered all over, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over me. No was the impression I felt. No mission for me.
Although I knew the expectation for young women to go on missions is not the same as for young men, I was confused. Why did the Spirit encourage me not to serve? Wouldn’t I be good at spreading the gospel?
As some of my friends received mission calls, I sometimes wondered what my future would hold. My 21st birthday was approaching, and I couldn’t help thinking, “There’s still time to be interviewed and submit my mission papers.”
I was studying in England when my parents called me. I could hear my mother crying as she told me the devastating news. She had been diagnosed with cancer.
By the time I came home to the United States a month later, chemotherapy was making Mom weak. I started helping around the house, learning to manage chores and meals. I also spent hours talking to Mom, fearful that I might lose her. I learned that managing a household is complicated, time-consuming work, and I gained a new appreciation for Mom’s efforts over the years. I barely managed to put decent dinners on the table.
Fortunately, our ward members and others in the community gathered to help us.
Mom’s treatment went on, and meanwhile our family grew closer. Mom told us stories about her youth, and we played lots of board games. We talked about the scriptures. My dad shared his fears with me as well as his testimony.
That summer, I learned eternal lessons. I knew my place for now was at home. My testimony grew as I felt Heavenly Father’s love all summer long. I became better friends with the ward members I had known all my life. My family grew closer, comforted by the knowledge that our family ties would last beyond death. I thanked the Lord for answering my question about serving a mission, guiding me to be with my family.
Editor’s note: Since her treatments, the author’s mother has recovered her health.
[illustrations] Illustrated by Greg Hally

Illustration by Lee Montgomery / IllustrationX
In 1998, I began my studies at the University of the Andes. I greatly desired to earn my university degree with a good grade point average. But my criminology classes were difficult, and I had trouble adapting to university work. Also, I was busy serving as a counselor in my ward bishopric and working at night to provide for my family.
Doubt and worry frustrated my hopes that first year as I earned grades far below the class average. As the school year ended, I increased my pleas to God in prayer for help understanding each theory, principle, and procedure.
During my second year, I met a classmate I had not noticed before named Argenis. I discovered that he had not seen me either—nor would he ever see me because he was blind. One day he approached me with his cane and braille tablet and asked for help. He said I had a good voice and that he needed me to record the written study guides so he could listen to them.
He had asked others, but they refused. Those who had helped him the year before were reluctant to help him again. Between my busy schedule and poor grades, I was also reluctant to help.
Despite never officially agreeing to his request, however, I soon found myself reading and rereading the guides to record their content for Argenis. In time, we became friends, and I began to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with him. I even gave him a Book of Mormon in braille. He appreciated my help but never became interested in learning more about the Church.
As I continued reading and recording the study guides, however, my grade point average began to rise. Even my peers noticed that I was becoming a better student and growing in my understanding.
Eight years after I graduated, my friend Argenis also graduated. He hadn’t been interested in the Church, but he had helped me understand “that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17). He had also helped me see that as I serve others, God blesses me and increases my ability.

I think I am safe in saying that all of us look to our living prophet as one who is fully committed to following the Savior. As we look at the life of President Hinckley, we see abundant evidence of him deciding at an early age that he would do all that was asked of him by the Lord. He tells the story about a time during his mission in England when three or four of the London papers carried some negative reviews of a reprint of an old book purporting to be a history of the Mormons.

His mission president said to then Elder Hinckley, “I want you to go down to the publisher and protest this.”

Elder Hinckley was about to say, “Surely not me,” but instead meekly said, “Yes, sir.”

President Hinckley talked about the fear that he felt, but he offered a prayer and then, with stomach churning, went down to meet with the president of the publishing company. He presented his card to the receptionist, who took it into the inner office and then returned to indicate that the president was too busy to meet with him. Elder Hinckley replied that he had come five thousand miles and would wait. Over the next hour the receptionist went into the office several times and then finally invited Elder Hinckley in. As he entered, he noticed that the president was smoking a long cigar and had a look that seemed to say, “Don’t bother me.”

President Hinckley doesn’t recall what he said, but another power seemed to speak through him. At first the company president was defensive and belligerent. Then he began to soften. By the end of their conversation he promised to do something, and he sent word out to every book dealer in England to return the books to the publisher. At great expense he printed in the front of each volume a statement to the effect that the book was not to be considered as history but only as fiction. President Hinckley concluded his telling of this story by saying, “I came to know that when we try in faith to walk in obedience to the requests of the priesthood, the Lord opens the way, even when there appears to be no way” (Gordon B. Hinckley, “If Ye Be Willing and Obedient,” Ensign, July 1995, 5).

I remember our visit to Kime Kinikini at the Holy Cross Hospital in Salt Lake City. He was in the last throes of cancer and was suffering terribly. Our appearance in the room was a surprise. Kime's wife, Fale'aka, leaped from her chair, embraced us and led us to the bedside of her dying husband. It was profoundly moving to see this radiant and loving man in such visible distress. Kime was too sick to even smile, but was able to make a sign that he wanted a blessing which I was honored to give.

We reminisced about our association over the years and about Kime's father and mother, TĂŤvita Muli and Le'o. As an older man, Muli had been my missionary companion for several months in Tonga in 1961. After saying our last goodbyes, we left the room knowing we would not see Kime again in this life. Fale'aka followed us all the way out to the car, weeping and expressing gratitude for our visit. As we were about to get into the car, she pressed into my hand what I thought was a piece of paper. "If you don't need this," she said, "I believe you know someone who does. Kime wants me to give it to you." She turned to go back into the hospital while I stared at a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill in my hand. Suffering his death-agony, when all things of this life seem to be blurred into insignificance, Kime and Fale'aka still wanted to give his friends a token of their undying friendship.

How could we take this money from a poor woman about to become a widow? The more burning question was how could we not receive with humble gratitude this emblem of consecrated friendship. In this case we felt it was better to receive. To resist or make a fuss over the gift would have violated the purity of the consecration. We knew the gift was not about money, but about friendship. It was not for us, but for someone we knew who like Fale'aka, might be in distress.

I remember that I wasn’t very comfortable at church for a while because I didn’t have my family to go with me. I knew the Church was true, so I gave myself a year to get comfortable and see how I fit. By the time that year was up, I never wanted to leave church. Mama used to say, “Honey, why don’t you come home once in a while.” Every opportunity I had, I was at church. I loved it there.
A sister in the ward came up to me, just before I left on my mission, and asked me, “What kept you coming back to church, every Sunday all by yourself.” I really couldn’t give her a direct answer, but something pushed me toward church every Sunday.

“It all began when I said hi to Shawn in the hall one day. If you say hi once to him he’s your friend. He started writing notes to me—friendly, chatty ones. Then in the spring when I ran for student-body president, he was my greatest support.”
This is how the friendship began between a shy, mentally-handicapped boy and one of the most popular girls in the school.
After Mary Kay Harrop was elected student-body president of Lehi High School in Lehi, Utah, in the spring of 1989, her friendship with Shawn Broadhead continued into the next year. And he kept writing her notes. But when the time for senior prom rolled around, Mary Kay was totally clueless when Shawn’s notes became hints asking her to be his date.
“The prom was not on my mind,” Mary Kay says. A boy she had been dating had just left for a mission. Also she was extremely busy with her many tasks as student-body president.
One week before the prom, Shawn’s father, Kent Broadhead, had business at the school and decided to talk with Mary Kay. “I wanted to give her a way out without hurting anybody’s feelings. We were assuming she wouldn’t go,” he said. “I explained that Shawn had been trying to ask her to the dance and he wanted to have his picture taken with her.” Mary Kay’s response was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. “Shawn’s a great friend. I would love to go with him,” she said.
“She never hesitated for a moment to accept,” recalls Shawn’s father.
Shawn’s mother, Ladonna Broadhead, describes Shawn’s reaction: “When Mary Kay called and told him she would accept his invitation, there wasn’t a wall that could contain him. He called all of his friends and wrote to his brothers who were on missions. He was so excited.”
The day after Mary Kay accepted Shawn’s invitation, she tuned in to the Saturday morning session of April general conference. Elder Boyd K. Packer was speaking about our responsibility to the handicapped members of the Church. “When Elder Packer said we ‘manifest the works of God’ in our actions toward the handicapped, it hit me. I knew I was supposed to hear this talk,” she says. “I realized that I was not just going to the prom to please Shawn—to do him a favor. He was doing me the favor. I was the honored one!”
Early the next week, Mary Kay was sharing her feelings with some of her friends at work. One of them made the suggestion to invite all of the special education kids to the dance. And from there, the next few days were a whirlwind. Mary Kay went to Russell Felt, the principal of Lehi High, and he gave his permission. With the help of the special ed teacher, Dalene Callins, all the parents of the students were notified. Then Mary Kay and her mother, Alice Ann Harrop, arranged to have a turkey dinner for Shawn and nine of his classmates before the dance. “Mom did the whole meal, and my two younger sisters helped set up the tables and serve. They all really came through for us,” says Mary Kay.
Rides were arranged for everyone to the hotel where the prom was being held. Mary Kay continues, “When we got there, they were all bubbling over with excitement. The sophomore class president, Jon Bailey, took turns dancing with the girls from special ed and I danced with the boys so no one would feel left out. They were such a fun, enthusiastic group. The whole student-body responded to them. One boy in a wheelchair was pulled all over the dance floor. He had the time of his life!”
Of course, Mary Kay did not forget that Shawn was her official date for the evening. “Shawn was great,” she says. “He bought me the most beautiful corsage I’ve ever had, and he rented a tuxedo—all with money earned from a part-time job. And we did get our picture taken together.”
Mary Kay says this activity awakened an awareness in the students at Lehi High. “The special ed students have the right to be involved, and we should make more of an effort to include them,” she says.
This year, Mary Kay has been attending Ricks College, while Shawn has been completing his senior year in special ed at Lehi High. His father comments, “It’s a good school. I have such an appreciation for all the kids who befriend young people like Shawn. The special ed students don’t know they’re any different because they’re treated like they’re normal. It means so much to all of us parents who have children like Shawn.”
“This experience did more for me than it did for the kids involved,” claims Mary Kay. “I needed it to happen. It made the whole school year worthwhile.”
So, does that mean she would do it all over again, if she could? “Absolutely! Only I’d do it sooner,” she says.

Another faithful missionary was Carl A. Carlquist, born near Vänersborg in 1857. At age 17, he felt a strong desire to preach the gospel and was called to distribute Church tracts around Jönköping. He was poor, so members of his branch, seven widows and their children, obtained a suit coat and boots for him. Carl didn’t own an overcoat when the winter season came, but he was allowed to borrow one a few hours every day from some of the members when they didn’t need theirs.5

Carl later emigrated to Utah and married Hulda Östergren, a Swedish immigrant. He returned to Sweden two more times on missions, including as mission president of the Scandinavian Mission. Much of his last mission was spent correcting false reports published about the Church by Reverend P. E. Åslev, a pastor who had lived in Salt Lake City and was hired to promote anti-Mormon sentiment in Sweden. For instance, in 1912, Åslev wrote an article in the newspaper Svenska Dagbladet in which he claimed that Brother Carlquist was a polygamist.6 Carl’s efforts included meeting with King Gustaf V and refuting Åslev’s claims in public meetings.7