Mormons Believe

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  • 10:42:59 am on February 1, 2012 | 0 | # |
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    There is a time in your life when the light goes on.  It is in that moment when all your trials, experiences and lingering questions come together and then the answer appears.

    Jesus Christ conversion mormonismI am a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints also commonly called the Mormon Church.  I was 18 years old and all of my childhood and youth could not have been further from Gospel principles.  I was the youngest of four kids born to an alcoholic father and an extremely abusive mother, who divorced when I was 9.

    I just figured that everyone’s home life was the same as mine, tumultuous, until I started school.  I learned very quickly that it was not the same at all.  When I was about 6 years old I remember praying to God about wanting to find people that were like me, that love kids and family was first, who knew that He existed and loved me unconditionally, that nothing is really a coincidence.

    When I was 16 years old, I was kicked out of the house because I no longer fit into what my mom wanted in her life.  It was tough living on the streets of a major city and continueing in school but  I did it. After graduating high school I moved to another city to “start over”.  I knew that I was searching for the meaning of my life but didn’t know where to find it or if it even existed.

    An Introduction to Mormon Missionaries

    I was introduced to the Mormon missionaries within 6 months. The moment that Elder Hause opened his mouth to teach me, the light inside me, the spirit inside me knew I had finally found my home.  Since the Gospel has been in my life now for many years, I have never had more peace, pure joy and unconditional love.  The Saviour took me gently by the hand and reached into my battered heart and I felt a calm, a peace and an assurance that I would never be alone again.

    The Saviour knew me, little old me, the wallflower in the room, whose mother said was the one not wanted, the girl with lower than low self-esteem. And I knew in my heart that He knew me, better than I knew myself.

    I realized that was what the missionaries had taught me, the “burning in my chest”.   I knew that I could never, would never be able to deny it. I was as sure as the sun rises every morning and then sets every evening.   I am a Child of God. My testimony was embedded into my heart.  I knew at that split second that I wanted, needed and with the deepest desires of my heart to be baptized into the LDS church, the fully restored church that Jesus taught. When I had only known darkness and sadness, His light was both a comfort and a blessing to me.  It was 13 short days after that first meeting with the missionaries that I was baptized as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

    Kay Cahoon MormonKay Cahoon is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of  Latter-day Saints (Mormon), wife, mother of six, grandma of many, traveler and genealogist.

    Additional Resources:

    Mormons Know God Lives

    Mormons and Jesus Christ

    Mormons and the Bible

    The Meaning of Life

    Meet Real Mormons

     

  • 07:57:51 am on February 11, 2010 | 0 | # |
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    The following is an email sent by Aragon, a dentist, to his parents. Aragon served in the Sydney Australia Vietnamese speaking mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and then attended University of California at San Francisco dental school. During his senior year he traveled to the Philippines to serve with “Kids International Dental Service.”

    Hi family,

    Mormon MissionariesI just wanted to give a trip report for the past two weeks that I have been in the Philippines; apparently some of you…did not even know I was over there.

    The trip was very special for me and reminded me of some of the feelings I had had when I was much younger as a missionary. As a missionary you are able to feel the peace that comes from focusing on others’ needs as opposed to just your own. It was during that time as a missionary that I knew I wanted to integrate such a lifestyle into the rest of my life.

    The first summer back from my mission I spent four months in Vietnam, one day I was eating lunch at a café, and I started talking to a person that was sharing the table with me. I told him how I really wanted to help out with the poverty I saw around me but I did not know how. I remember him telling me that if I really wanted to help that I would need to go back to America to gain a skill first, then I really would have something to offer.

    Over the next eight years I have been putting a lot of time into gaining that skill that I could offer others. I think during that time I have been so focused on myself and what I needed to do that I kind of forgot some of the reasons that I was doing all of this school work anyway. I was starting to think that getting a dental degree would enable me more personal attainment and thus more personal happiness. I had somewhat forgotten that a dental degree would enable me more ability to serve others, and in the focus of serving others I could once again experience the peace I had while a missionary. I hardly blame myself for forgetting; eight years of pursuing education trying to make grades, padding your transcript for recommendation letters and instructor brown-nosing will make anybody become a little self-centered.

    The Lord blessed me to remember during this trip. I can remember particularly a 12 year old girl where I was overcome with godlike empathy. I had to extract most of (rotten to the gum-line) the adult teeth in a 12 year old girl. Can you imagine that? A girl not even a teenager yet who would have to go through her dating years with no front teeth and missing many of her back teeth? It was very difficult for me emotionally. Even though I was taking her out of pain my removing the rotten teeth, I felt as though I had failed her because I was not able to intervene sooner when the problem was small and I could have saved her teeth. But as difficult as it was, it was so peaceful to spend my waking moments during the day to figure out how I could set goals in life on how I could prevent this for other people.

    Prayers during the trip became so much more powerful. It is one thing to pray to God to help you pass tests and such, and I am sure I have been blessed in that regard. The veil truly became thin when I was praying for God to bless my hands because I wanted so much to help these children with dental problems that I felt my skills were inadequate to treat.

    I felt the power of these words in my patriarchal blessing on this trip: “You loved your spiritual brothers and sisters with all your heart and the Spirit of Charity is beginning to blossom within your soul at this time”

    It is true that I do not have to go to the Philippines to focus and serve those around me, but perhaps I needed to see the shocking state of oral health over there to remind me and teach me things. I am looking forward to setting new goals in my life and I hope these memories will always be fresh with me.

    Love, Aragon

     

  • 04:41:50 pm on May 18, 2009 | 6 | # |
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    Book of Mormon and BibleMy childhood was not pretty. I was raised in several “homes” and foster homes. Both my parents were alcoholics…in fact, they met at an AA meeting! Both of them had several failed marriages and relationships which resulted in various children. I have siblings, step-siblings and half-siblings, some of whom I’ve never met, even to this day. Others I was raised with on and off at different times and various circumstances. To say the least…it was a confusing, chaotic, and unstable childhood. Through all the chaos and confusion, there was one consistent thing in my life- that was the AV 1611 King James version of the Holy Bible.

    My father, (believe it or not) was a southern Baptist preacher! He would preach about the love of Christ and the peace which passeth all understanding, but my father never knew peace, nor did he have a clue about the meaning of the word “love.” (I struggle with the meaning of it myself) As my siblings all turned to drugs, alcohol, sex or insanity as an escape from the torment of our lives, I turned to the Bible. I started memorizing it at an early age. By the time I was 16 years old, I was carrying my Bible with me to school every day and quoting whole chapters. When I was 26 years old, I quoted the first 14 chapters of Matthew on a TV show called,”The Parade Of Miracles”. It was broadcast from a church called The People’s Baptist Church in Corpus Christi, Texas.

    I didn’t know Christ or His love, but I wanted to know him. I longed to know him. As I poured over my scriptures, I found reference to Christ in every chapter I could from both the Old and the New Testaments. I wrote poems, read books (many books),about Christ, New Testament times and Old Testament times. As I matured into adulthood, I started “church hopping”, checking out many different churches and religions, each one claiming to have the only truth. Each one claimed that they were the the true church, and with each new church, I came away feeling empty. Finally, after my marriage failed and I started raising my two children alone, I decided to give up on church altogether. Although I could quote scripture better than most preachers I knew, I still lacked an understanding of who Christ was. I knew about him, but I didn’t know him. My problem was 18 inches long. There are 18 inches between your head and your heart. I had Christ’s words in my head, but they had not reached my heart. If I missed Heaven…it was going to be by 18 inches!

    Then, one night I happened to see a commercial for a free Book of Mormon, another Testament of Jesus Christ. Wow! It had never occurred to me that the Book of Mormon was a “Testament of Jesus Christ.” I had the Old Testament and the New Testament, what was this? A third Testament? I had never heard of such a thing! Maybe that was the missing piece! I grabbed my phone and dialed the number! When the person on the other end asked if I would like someone to visit me, as well as receive my free copy of the Book of Mormon, I said,” yes!” I had my first visit in February 2004. God bless those missionaries! I sure gave them a run for their money! I knew we were in the “last days”, and the the Bible says,”Yea, let God be true, but every man a liar” (Romans 3:4). I did not trust them; I knew many false prophets would arise in the last days, but I gave them my word that I would not make any decisions until I had read the Book of Mormon.

    A funny thing happened as I started reading the Book of Mormon-I recognized my beloved Bible on every page! It didn’t start in First Nephi,either…it started with the introduction to the Book of Mormon and then the testimonies of the witnesses. I recognized God’s numbers, His “set” way of organization; I started pulling out God’s numbers-3,8,12-from the very first pages and I knew that this book was lining up with my Bible. As I read on, I decided that the Book of Mormon was either written by God or by Satan, but it could not have been written by any man! The wisdom was too deep. It lined up too well with the Bible, on so many levels. I knew that it was just not possible for man to have written this book. As I realized this, at first, I feared in my heart that the Book of Mormon was a counterfeit. Was this the strong delusion sent by Satan in the last days that my Bible had warned me about? Were these missionaries the false prophets that I knew would arise in the last days? I was sure in my heart that the Book of Mormon was a supernatural book, but to which end? I also knew that “ol’ smutty face” was a master of imitation and forgery. If anybody could make a “copy” of the Bible, yet twist it, he could! But the missionaries kept telling me to pray about it, and ask God if it was the truth. Satan wouldn’t advise me to ask God about anything! The Bible says in Isaiah 55:11 that God’s word will not return void and it didn’t. I had not memorized all that scripture for naught.

    There was only one conclusion I could make about the Book of Mormon. My Bible came back to me and testified to me as I read each page of the Book of Mormon. The Holy Spirit was there too, and so were the missionaries…patiently putting up with my endless questions. I swam through a sea of confusion, but God knew my heart and he guided me back to him. Praise God!!! I’ve finally found the true church of Jesus Christ, and I can testify from my very soul that the Book of Mormon is the truth. It changed my life and it is the final piece to the puzzle of my life. The pieces have come together and I finally have the whole truth. I finally know Christ…REALLY know him, and I have felt his love for REAL this time. I’m home…at last!!!

    I was inspired to write this poem during our Stake Conference in November of 2004. I had been reading LDS poetry from a book that I had borrowed from the church library and I had this feeling of frustration that all the LDS poetry that I had read so far kept painting this “rosy” picture of happy childhoods and “goodly” parents and how the heroin’s had to find their own testimonies. I thought to myself, why doesn’t anybody write about not being born into this church, yet finding their testimony? I was thinking these thoughts while listening to Conference when the Lord whispered into my heart…”Why don’t YOU write that poem?” I wrote it that night after Conference.

    The Mortal Test

    A spirit I was, a mortal to be…
    The father came and spoke to me.
    You’ve kept, my child, your first estate
    and now it’s time to delegate…
    A mother to give you mortal birth
    a body and a place on Earth.
    I know you’d like your mother, “kind”
    but I have something else in mind.

    You see, my child, it’s easy to be
    in a holy family that pleases me.
    What’s not so easy and takes more grit
    is to be placed with parents that are unfit.
    A childhood filled with fear and unrest,
    you must endure and pass the test.
    As you struggle through confusion and pain
    Your efforts to find me again will not be in vain.

    I love you and I’ll guide you back
    if you will withstand Satan’s attack.
    Your progression greatly will be multiplied
    and I’ll be there waiting on the other side…
    with rewards beyond you wildest dream
    because you took the path extreme.
    The Earth will be your proving ground
    but Heaven is where you will be crowned.
    You will receive rewards so sweet,
    just toss them all at Jesus’ feet.

    You will then be allowed to look upon my face
    and once again receive your heavenly mother’s embrace.
    I know you can do this, I have no doubt
    because you’re a spirit Divine and devout.
    I’ve planned this life and task to do
    because I have great confidence in you.

    (1 Corinthians 10:13)
    I know God won’t give me anything that I can’t handle…
    I just wish He didn’t trust me so much!!!!!

     

  • 11:47:07 am on October 27, 2008 | 0 | # |
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    Carlomino and the Song of Redeeming Love
    by Karen R. Merkley

    Lacking Some Key to the Universe: Searching for Truth
     Christus Jesus Christ MormonI still remember standing at the top of the stairs as a child wondering who I was and why I was on the earth. I hungered for that knowledge like no other, and I felt spiritually starved. I attended Catholic Church but asked what to them were unanswerable questions. I posed a few like these: “Well, who lived in heaven and took part in that war besides Jesus? (If there was a war in heaven, as taught, then there had to have been more than two people there, I reasoned.); Why do I have to confess the same sins twice?” and “How can God and Jesus be the same person?” I lived as if on a daily spiritual fare of milk and toast, not knowing there was a buffet table divinely set and beckoning me.

    Questions about the purpose of life sprung up as consistently as crocuses do in spring, any time I was willing to allow them to pop through the soil of my soul. At one particular point in my life, I began to despair that I would never know my purpose or the answers to the questions of my heart. Without those answers, the desire to live waned. The world looked cold and senseless. How could I function from day to day without knowing ‘why’ I was functioning? I couldn’t tick if I didn’t know why I was ticking.

    Lacking some key to the universe, I sat despondently on the edge of my studio bed, staring at a bottle of sleeping pills. I thought about my circumstances. I had little impetus for moving forward from day to day. I was tired of fumbling for house keys in the cold, of working for work’s sake, of studying theories spilled over in classes without a rod to evaluate them. So I planned to take my life. Just before popping the pills, though, my efforts were aborted– by a gentle but profound strain of impressions from a loving Father through what I now recognize as His Spirit. I was told, through those welcome whisperings, that “every moment of love and every moment of discovery in my life had not been wasted” and that I “must have the courage to live on.” I was also told, in fact spiritually guaranteed, that I would find the purpose of life. I accepted with confidence those impressions though I didn’t quite comprehend their appearance on the screen of my soul.

    Receiving a Spiritual Witness
     I spent the next months contemplating my life. On one remarkable occasion, as I was jogging around the neighborhood under the exquisite light of a full moon, I received what I can only describe as an injection of truth–a stunning, indelible witness that God lived. I recall sitting down on the curb, sobbing, tears of joy. I was changed instantly. I felt loved and I felt an overwhelming inclination to love like never before. I knew there was a God which thing I hadn’t known for myself just moments before. I knew, at last, I had a purpose. This was so delicious to taste. I longed to know more about God , his plan for me and my duty and responsibility towards Him and others.

    So Which Church is True?
     I borrowed a Bible from a Catholic Church, lay out in the field behind their rectory, and read through the New Testament for the first time. I marveled that this book had been preserved for me– and anyone else looking for truth. I particularly recall pondering the word, ‘saved” and the atonement of Christ. I was filled to know that the Lord, who had just literally saved my life physically, had also died to save me spiritually. I knew that I had an advocate in whom I could completely trust.

    I then began to identify and list in my trusty silver notebook, points of doctrine Christ had espoused and the characteristics of his Church. I learned much from that first scriptural immersion. But three ideas particularly prepared me for the fullness of the gospel. First, I knew that we could become perfect even as God is, for the Savior Himself taught the doctrine of perfection to his apostles as recorded in Matthew 12:48. Second, I anticipated more revelation than the Bible for the Lord told His apostles (in Mark) that there was more to be revealed that they were not ready to bear. Third, I embraced the truth that there was only one, true way to salvation as the scriptures indicated: “one faith, one baptism.” In fact, I envisioned a time when all quarrels among churches would end, and all denominations would be subsumed under the one true church. I decided to begin a search for the true Church, thinking, again, that it was, likely, not on the earth. After visits to dozens of churches–from Swedenborgian to Methodist–and reading through many books and pamphlets, comparing their teachings with those I learned in the scriptures, I always came up empty. No one, it seemed, scored on every point. There was always some disappointing deviation from what I learned from the scriptures to anticipate in Christ’s Church.

    Finding Truth in the Strangest of Places
    On another investigative visit to the Baptist Church, I found myself, again, disappointed. This time, I was on the brink of abandoning my quest altogether. It was too painful to think that so many who professed the Christ did not know the full truth about Him or about the ways He indicated we should administer his ordinances. Just then, on my way out of the building, I discovered an “anti-Mormon” brochure on a rack in the vestibule. As I was in the habit of collecting whatever I could grasp on various religions, I clasped it eagerly and tucked it away to read at home. When I arrived at the Baptist minister’s home, where I was a guest, I began to devour this pamphlet. I read eagerly some of the claims of the Church, namely, that we could become more and more perfect as the Savior; that there was additional revelation than the Bible (something called a Book of Mormon and Doctrine and Covenants); that there was a code of health (which I ‘d anticipated through the Spirit); and more. The critical comments seemed superfluous, and I recognized those “Mormon” claims as true from my own reading of the New Testament.

    I was electrified and knew I had found something more than a kernel of truth. I searched for a Book of Mormon and found one in a small library in Huntingdon Valley, Pennsylvania and took it home with a half gallon of ice cream. I dipped into both that night and hardly slept. I knew it was true. Before I found the book, I located in a different library a file of pamphlets on the purpose of life left by a missionary whom I do not know but will one day kiss. In there, I found the purpose of life clearly explained. It thrilled me and I barely contained my emotion. It was all I could do to refrain from squeezing the whispering librarians stacking the shelves .I recognized it immediately as the truth.

    I eventually called the Church and entered the waters of baptism a short time later. And I must say that I feel like I’ve been eating lobster tails in drawn butter since. But this is all to provide a context for me to share one particular morsel of that feast with you here, one that pertains to the joyful delicious experience of partaking in family history and temple blessings.

    Family History: A Pioneer Trek
     Mormon Family HistoryWith a maiden name of “Trifiletti” (rhymes with “spaghetti” in case you’re tripping over it!), you can probably guess my Italian-American roots. After joining the Church and serving my mission to Germany, I moved to Salt Lake City. I hoped that I would be able to find out more about my Italian ancestors. I guess you could say, “I tried on my pair of pioneer shoes.” I started out with a blank pedigree but willing and anxious feet. Yet, after hours of original research and sending dozens of letters to and from many organizations in search of family clues, and after many visits to the Salt Lake Family History Library waiting for needed films to arrive from Italy, I was not much further along in my search. I looked at my empty pedigree and longed to have it filled in–to know my family, to help them have the saving ordinances of the gospel, which I had found in 1980. Yet, my own efforts proved insufficient to complete my family’s work. I had packed up but gotten nowhere, it seemed. I guess it was a spiritual Winter-Quarters experience.

    A Breakthrough
    After additional fasting and prayer, I knew it was time for a breakthrough. That assurance came one Sunday afternoon when, besieged by a trail of family history papers sprawled over the kitchen table, I felt overawed and directionless. Leaving the papers as they were, I retired to the living room and sat down on the couch. I wept. Seeking some comfort, I opened what seemed like a heavy volume of scripture in my hands to the following verse in 1 Nephi 17:

    And I will also be your light in the wilderness; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; wherefore, inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments, ye shall be led towards the promised land; and ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led. (13).

    This verse penetrated me. I thought to myself, “If ever I were in a wilderness, it certainly was now.” I was lost in a circuitous paperwork trail and what seemed insurmountable obstacles in a barren land of information. Through and in that wilderness, I felt the Savior’s promise–that He would be my light out. Through His words, I knew that He would guide me through the trail of my confusing notes to the “promised land”–to the temple, the place where my ancestors would receive their gospel ordinances and promised blessings and where I, too, would be filled with joy for them. Those pioneer shoes had their vision and hope restored of reaching the promised land and making it across the wilderness.

    The Lord, of course, kept His word. I returned to the kitchen and began to review my files and notes. It was as if certain pieces of information were highlighted, and I knew what steps I needed to take to secure further information about my relatives. I wrote continuously for about twenty minutes until I had a full list of things to do, in order, to pursue the work. It was clear. I knew the direction was divine. From that point on, at every step of the way, the Spirit has told me either what to do or what to ask next in my spiritual journey to find my family. I have never been in a quandary since regarding the sequence of steps to take to continue this family history work. At last, I could breathe, “All is well. All is well.”

    Finding Filippo and Concetta: Two Miracles
     I was then elated to find the Italian microfilms I’d been waiting for. I remember finding my grandfather Filippo first. It was on his birthday when I first felt so compelled to make this pioneer journey back in time to piece together my family history. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I ran my hand over and over the film, feeling close to him. In fact, whenever I looked at films from then on, I felt as if I were walking through the streets of Italy or through a stake directory in another part of the world. I felt a warmth and closeness with these people as if I’d known them.

    I remember the day I was looking for his wife, my grandmother, Maria Concetta Pastore. The films were worn and worm-eaten. The writing looked like invisible ink in many places–only the imprints were visible on some pages. I scrolled forward to the estimated year of her birth. The writing was illegible. I was discouraged–as if my handcart had broken. I had an impression. It was to return to the beginning of the film and to look for other relatives first.

    I spent four afternoons doing this. On the last day, in the middle of a record, another impression came. “Look for your grandmother now.” I scrolled forward to the same bleak and musty pages I’d been to four days prior. My eyes were led to the bottom left hand corner of the page where I saw ever faintly engraved, ” Maria Concetta Pastore.” Had I not spent hours reading the front pages of that roll of film, I never would have had the capacity to discern the writing on the page on which my grandmother was listed. I felt her presence as I served as proxy for her in the temple and received a sure witness that she accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ and her ordinance work. Now I seemed to reach the valley of delight. My shoes were worn, but well worn. I was glad for every small pioneer step I had been privileged to take.

    Wearing these shoes—doing this work–has altered the quality of my life forever. The richest fullest blessings attend family history and temple work–a joy that overrides the frustrations and vicissitudes of life. I still get frustrated occasionally when my lawnmower runs out of gas five minutes into the lawn, or when another pair of little shoes turns up missing, or when my body fat percentage isn’t precisely where I’d like it, but these minor frustrations pale in comparison to the joy I feel in my life. I find that the Lord orders my days better than I ever can when I spend prime time doing the prime work of the kingdom. My knowledge of Him and His plan has increased. And I know my confidence in Him continues to wax strong as I stay involved in it.

    Carlomino Over My Shoulder
     On another special occasion, I was looking at some additional films for the Bello line of our family who are from a small town outside Naples, called Pietraroia, Italy. I found a great-great grandfather but once again could not read his name. I prayed and waited for my eyes to be opened to it. I told Heavenly Father that I knew He knew the name of this person and that this person knew his own name and that I had faith that either one of them could reveal it to me. I sincerely asked that it might be revealed so this work could be done and so I could carry on with the line. Still I could not make it out. But after receiving a feeling of peace, I left the library, went home, attended to my family and retired for the night. The next morning, I was awakened from my sleep by a voice (though not audible) speaking the word, “Carlomino.” I woke up partially and wondered what it was that I heard–it sounded familiar to me. And then I heard the name again: “Carlomino.” Of all of the thousands of Italian names I had by then read, I had never before heard the name, “Carlomino.” I then realized whose it was. I woke my husband and told him what had happened. I dressed, ran over to the family history center, returned to the film I’d been working on, and looked again. Sure enough–the name I was unable to read the day before was “Carlomino.” Tears came. I knew he delighted in my joy and in my awareness of him. I have since felt so close to him. He and others who’ve seemed to hover over my shoulder as I’ve searched the past have given me strength; they inspired the lyrics of a song that I call “Redeeming Love.”

    And then I reached the promised land–the opportunity to offer family the ordinances of salvation–to know that someone administering in the spirit world would unlock the gate of their prison and set them free. Since my family is from a small town in Italy, where people lived for generations, I have been able to secure the names of hundreds of my ancestors and serve as proxy while they receive their ordinances. The time in the temple has been exquisite, full of joy and personal insights on many levels. But beyond that, it has been wonderful to share the temple experiences with others in our ward and stake. It was thrilling in June of 1998 when the youth of the Sandy East Stake were able to serve as proxies for the baptisms of our Italian ancestors. It has been wonderful to share with them this purest of joys–for which there are many counterfeits in their world.

    Thinness of the Veil
     Since that time, I have felt the closeness of my ancestors. Where I once felt alone in joining the Church, I now feel I’ve an entourage of friends and family around me at various times. I have noticed that there is less and less contention in my home. I know without doubt that they are teaching and influencing my children. I have witnessed their protection of myself and of my children on several occasions. And I have felt a hedge of protection around my home–it is as if guarded by angels–those whom I have been privileged to serve. I no longer fear being alone in my home at night–or any other time. These blessings have attended this great work.

    I remember another specific occasion in which I felt “in the company” of those beyond the veil. One day I went to the temple to stand as proxy for Italian relatives who needed to be baptized. As I was confirmed for these women, I received an unmistakable impression. I felt that the women for whom I’d been baptized were not only initiated into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in that moment–the grandest of initiations–but that they were initiated into my circle of friends. In addition, I felt that these women wanted to keep me company in my home and in my life. I recall the warmth and feelings of association.

    Sealing My Testimony

    One night in the temple, I pondered the changes occurring in some of my loved ones lives.Then another thought attached itself to the previous one like a precious string of pearls forming a necklace. The gems were these impressions: Just as your ancestors prepared the way for you to accept the gospel of Jesus Christ by prompting you along the way, you prepared the way for them to receive it fully through family history and temple ordinances. They, in turn, have come back in great beauty and force to teach, instruct, guide our extended families.

    And then came the additional thought: In much the same way, but on a much more significant scale, the Savior prepared the way for us to receive the gospel, and we now have the opportunity to prepare the way for Him through missionary, family history, and temple work–sealing together the human family in preparation for His Second Coming. This pattern is stunning to me.

    And these impressions have changed my life.

    I have since come to see that family history is synonymous with family healing. The waters of the temple are the waters of life. Those who are faithful are called to work with the Savior in being “repairers of the breach”–or the gaps in the human family caused by sin and error (Isaiah 58:11-12). I testify that we can do this–we can help heal the human family through this glorious work made possible through Christ’s work of proxy for us–his atoning sacrifice. His endowment prepares us for ours and our provision of endowments for others will prepare us to receive the Second Endowment–to see the face of the Lord. It’s better than lobster tail. It’s the fruit off the tree of life itself–white, delicious, sweeter than any other–of that, I bear witness.

     

  • 07:17:19 am on October 1, 2008 | 0 | # |

    Thomas S Monson Mormon PresidentI was greatly surprised to see a big picture of a group of young men and women with the background of the Roman Forum in the beautiful and for me very special city of Rome in the September 2008 issue of the Liahona. I wish to share some thoughts but it is difficult to express in words so many memories and feelings. I just hope that they will be of inspiration to some…
    In March 1971 I went to Italy as a missionary and my first assignment was to proselyte in the city of Rome, which, in time, I learned to love so much. My companion was the Branch President, certainly a very small branch since the church was still young in Italy. The Mission headquarters had been recently moved from Florence, its first location, to Rome in Via Cimone 95 where I had my first spiritual experiences of my mission.
    In our preparation days (P-days), my companion and I used to go take pictures of the many historical places of Rome, real tourist postcards known all over the world. One of the photos I remember very well has me in the same place and perspective of the one picturing the youth in the Liahona…How many things to ponder, to remember and to be grateful for! Allow me to share some of those:
    • I remember well my feelings of being new in the mission field and of being the Branch Clerk (also we used to call the junior companion to a missionary serving as Branch Presidents “wife”)…those were natural feelings coming from being part of such a small congregation. We used to meet in an apartment on the first floor of a building in a much unknown area (Piazza Vescovio), which even the same Romans did not know where it was. Hence, these feelings of being very small as compared to the majesty of Rome and the rest of the Roman Empire.
    • I asked myself how it was for Paul and Peter to preach there. Just a few meters from the place where the picture was taken, there is the old jail that they say was the prison of Paul in Rome. I understood much of his great missionary spirit, which is the basis of the comments in the Liahona article written by Sister Maddy, who I don’t know, but whose thoughts I share.
    • Can you imagine some of the feelings that I now feel after 37 years?…Because there is something glorious about this picture in the Liahona which teaches me many things and it is the reason why I am sharing my feelings. In the middle of the photo dressed in a colourful attire that distinguishes her from all other young men and young women in the picture there is Denise De Feo.
    You may wonder why glorious…here it is some of the story.
    After the first two months of my mission, we received the visit of Elder Thomas S. Monson who came to that small apartment that was the branch in Rome. At that time he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and had come with the assignment to announce that the Italy Mission was being divided in two missions: one in the North of Italy with headquarters in Milan and the other one in the South with headquarters still in Rome. That would take place in only two months.
    I remember Elder Monson’s visit very well, his wife and daughter with him, his good spirit and his great personality, giving us encouragement to give our best in whatever mission we would end up. In the following weeks, I remember thinking: “I would like to go to the North” and as some transfers took place we knew who was staying in such a mission. And so it happened with me when in those days I received a transfer to go to the city of Taranto, deep South, and I was assigned as a senior companion to a new elder that had just arrived in the mission field and we travelled together to this town in the South. It was one more challenge in my mission. Certainly Rome was not very fruitful as of my learning of missionary work, first of all because it was a very big town for the beginning of the work in Italy, then for lack of interest to listen to our message, and, in my case, because I had to dedicate sufficient time to assist the Branch President, I being the clerk of that small branch. That’s why I also value very much the vision of a prophet, the current President of the Church Thomas Monson, his thoughts and fortitude in that small apartment of that remote Piazza Vescovio in the immense city of Rome. They were certainly more profound and positive than mine! And I mention these feelings so that it is understood that we can learn even 37 years after.
    Going to Taranto brought great challenges: teaching to my new companion and starting both to preach in Italian. I had used English much in those first months and it was hard to understand the language with its different tones and to adapt to the new customs of the region. I also think that my companion seemed to have another challenge: elder Nelson was from the United States.
    Both of us proceeded to labor and started to knock on doors and to offer our message in our own “unique” language. But the Lord blessed us with results. To the baptism of the De Bartolomeo’s family followed the baptisms of the Galizia family and Franco and others. Finally, we knocked on a special door where one of the most powerful experiences in my mission, which is not easy to describe in a few words, expected us and has accompanied me since 1971. I remember reading the names of the families on the nameplate on the doors of each apartment of a certain house (in Italy, the majority of people live in apartment buildings with two or three apartments on each floor and each one of them has the habit of putting the surname on the door to facilitate the task of identifying that certain family). So, we knew the names of the families before they opened the door. Then I remember reading the name at the door we knocked: De Feo. Something that in Castilian sounds singular as surname and that provokes smiling. I made a comment to my companion and he smiled when he heard what it meant in Castilian but the Lord had us something more glorious prepared that quite these anecdotal details and it is what in the Mission we called a golden contact. Two very kind and amiable children, Alberto and Massimo De Feo, together with and supported by their aunt, received the discussions very well and progressed towards the baptism. It was touching to see their conversion and acceptance of the missionary message.
    I did not have the privilege to be present the day of their baptism and elder Nelson had been transferred to another town. Elder Mason had accompanied me and finished teaching the discussions and baptized them. I, on my part, was called to be Branch President of the Catania Branch, in Sicily but I received the photo of the De Feo brothers and a card from their aunt on the day of their baptism. They were both dressed in white. Their aunt decided not to be baptized, which gives more value to their conversion and also the fact that their parents always authorized their baptism. I keep those two photos with the written greetings from Alberto and Massimo like a treasure. And it is at this point that you discover why something glorious came to me when I saw Denise De Feo in the middle of the picture in the Liahona. Because Denise is the daughter of Massimo withs whom I had not had much contact but not long ago I was informed that had been called as the first Stake President of the recent created first Stake of Rome.
    Perhaps you can perceive my feelings of gratitude still learning after 37 years by only comparing the thoughts of excitement and of great humility mentioned previously from the times of the small Branch of Piazza Vescovio to this fantastic article
    Could I imagine that day that I visited the Roman Forum for the first time and at the same time being awed at the sight of such show of grandeur of the great Roman Empire the relation of my picture with that in the 2008 Liahona? No.I would have never imagined but one of the things I wish to share is that Someone knew. Because our Lord is at the centre of missionary work: the centre of that message that was shared with our poor Italian by my companion and me but that connected through the Spirit with Alberto and Massimo and also with their aunt Anna. That day that we read the name De Feo prior to knocking on the door, the Lord had already in store this glorious experience that has no limits.
    Today, after many years, I was able to speak to Massimo (President De Feo) and he informed me that his brother Alberto, who lives in Canada is Branch President there. He told me of their aunt, of their good parents who even if they were not members allowed them both to serve as missionaries, of his achievements and of his son who just finished a mission in Spain and therefore speaks my very own language that I could not use to teach. However, at the end of this story I testify that all teachings must be from heart to heart through the medium of the Holy Ghost who is the only one who can penetrate the heart and “teach eternal truths”.
    I have a feeling of gratitude for the Lord for having taught me after so many years and especially to all those mentioned in my story, from Denise to her father, from my companions to our current president and prophet Thomas S. Monson and to many others who are parts of this chain that we have formed. That is how we described it with Massimo in our beautiful phone call.
    As one of my companions in my mission used to say, recalling the scripture “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts”. And often the Lord has spiritual experiences prepared for us that we would never imagine to live.

     
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