Putting Together the Pieces of the Puzzle: My Conversion Jouney

Here in the mission field, people often ask me if I'm a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and when I say yes, they want to hear my story of how it happened. Usually I answer by saying, "Oh you should hear my husband's story. It's much more interesting than mine!" I'm afraid that people want from me a wonderful faith-promoting story and I don't feel like I can offer that. But I feel like it's time to tell it anyway, so here I go.

I came into the Church as an eighteen year old who was just finishing High School. My teenage years had been very difficult and I struggled against depression, anxiety and extremely low self-esteem. The truth of the matter is, I became interested in the Church because a boy I had a crush on in High School became a member of the Church and I was completely amazed that he had done that. Up to then, I had seen Mormons as particularly uncool people who went door to door and were a bother to people in their homes. My brother liked to call them "The Morons" and I saw no reason to disagree. But the thing is, that boy in High School who became a Mormon WAS cool. He was totally among the cool kids so I was absolutely floored he would become a Mormon, of all things.

I didn't have the courage to ask him about the Church. That would be too much like admitting I had a crush on him which, when I look back on it, he knew anyway. How I started taking the missionary lessons is by encountering a pair of particularly uncool missionaries on the street who started talking to me. I agreed to let them come back to my house and teach me. 

My parents weren't thrilled but didn't stop me. I was legally an adult by then, after all, and they weren't ones to interfere much with my decisions. So I started learning about Joseph Smith and The First Vision and The Book of Mormon. I started reading The Book of Mormon and didn't understand everything but it made me think and ponder the questions of life and religion. A little bit of my teenage misery melted away as I began to read and learn about the Church. People noticed.

When the missionaries asked me to come to Church, I said no. I was terrified I'd run into the boy from high school and then "HE WOULD KNOW!!!" I guess when you're a self-conscious insecure teenager, that's the way you think.

I don't remember how, but eventually that boy found out I was investigating the Church and he expressed his happiness to me that this was so. So I attended a meeting the next Sunday. And when the missionaries challenged me to be baptized and seemed so sure it was the right thing to do, I went along with it.  

Looking back on that situation now, I see myself allegorically as having been handed a box with a jigsaw puzzle inside and being told that a beautiful picture would unfold as I put it together. I took out a few pieces from the box and what I was able to put together looked good and mostly felt right but I wasn't really sure. The thing is, I was incapable of being sure of anything. It would take years and years before my mental and emotional anxieties would heal enough for me to gain confidence in my beliefs.  

Early on I was taught to pray and read scriptures daily and I mostly did after being baptized. My life improved in increments. I found love and fellowship among the young adults of the Church which I needed desperately. I craved to be something better than I was and eventually I decided that going on a mission would make me into the perfect person I wanted to be. I also thought it would make me sure of everything I had questions about. By this time I had attended many church meetings where people told these wonderful faith promoting stories of their missions and I wanted experiences like that. And besides, my friends were going on missions so I thought it would be the right thing to do. It was common to hear returned missionaries say, "It was the best eighteen months (or two years) of my life!" and I was sure my mission would be the same. I heard it would be difficult but I romanticized those difficulties before I actually experienced them.

My time in the England Coventry Mission had incredible highs and incredible lows and believe you me, I quickly stopped romanticizing about the difficulties I experienced. I learned much from my experience and about the Church there but my self-doubt and low self esteem were always lurking in the background. We didn't have the medical and mental health helps that missionaries have now. We just put our heads down and got on with things. We taught some people, and some people came into the Church because we taught them. Those were nice experiences. But at the end of my mission, I felt disappointed that I wasn't perfect and still felt unsure about many things, most of all myself.

I can't honestly say that my mission in England was the best eighteen months of my life. I can, however, say that it was probably the best eighteen months FOR my life. The mission I'm on right now is the best eighteen months of my life. I've never been happier.

Between that mission and this, I have slowly but surely been putting the pieces of the puzzle together and what is forming is indeed a beautiful picture.

But there have been times over the years that I have picked up puzzle pieces that didn't make sense to me and didn't look like they fit anywhere. Others may have picked them up and showed them to me saying, "This is weird! This is stupid! This is strange! Look how ugly this is!"and the puzzle piece by itself did indeed look strange. I have stared at and analyzed those puzzle pieces wondering if I should toss out the entire puzzle because of these particular pieces that made no sense to me.

I have also at times looked hopelessly at the empty parts of the puzzle feeling like there would never be pieces of the puzzle to fill in the picture. 

And if I had allowed myself to only focus on those strange pieces or the empty space, I would indeed have tossed out the entire jigsaw puzzle. But I didn't. My eyes would go back to the part of the jigsaw puzzle that had been put together and it did indeed look like a beautiful picture was forming.

Let me tell you some of what I see in that beautiful part of the puzzle. First and foremost it is The Book of Mormon. For me, it is an amazing book that fills me with wisdom, understanding and peace to my soul. It companions with The Bible so beautifully and has helped me in my life in powerful ways. Having read and studied it many times, I can't believe it could be anything but what it claims to be: an ancient scripture translated for us in modern times by a prophet of God.

I also see in that picture the teachings of where we come from, why we're here and where we're going after this life. Although people of other faiths may say it to us, we don't say that people of different beliefs and churches than us are going to Hell. When Christ said "In my house there are many mansions" we believe that's true and that there is a place for most of God's children based on God's grace and their choices in this life. We want to teach people why they came to this Earth; to turn to Christ so that they don't have to feel the Hell of remorse and regret for not choosing to do better with their time here or for doing things that have hurt others. To me a beautiful part of being in this church is understanding our purpose for being on this earth. 

My conversion to this Church was and is just as this Book of Mormon scripture says in 2 Nephi 28:30:

"For behold, thus saith the Lord God:

I will give unto the children of men

line upon line, precept upon precept,

here a little and there a little;

and blessed are those who hearken unto my precepts,
and lend an ear unto my counsel,

for they shall learn wisdom;

for unto him that receiveth I will give more;

and from them that shall say, We have enough,

from them shall be taken away

even that which they have."

I truly have faith that one step at a time in my jouney through life and beyond, my jigsaw puzzle will be completed and will be an even greater joy to behold.

A Surprise Visit from President Uchtdorf

A couple of years ago in my home Ward (church congregation) in Calgary, my husband and I sat on the back bench just as Sacrament Meeting was starting. The Bishop had just gotten up and, as he made his announcements, we thought we heard wrong when he said, "Elder Todd D. Cristopherson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles presides at this meeting." I turned to Hermes and whispered, "was he talking about a video conference from a Salt Lake?" and he answered "Yes, I think so." I didn't have a clear view of everyone sitting at the front where the pulpit is so I leaned over to my right to get a better look and sure enough, Elder Cristoherson was sitting up there. I thought that was the only time in my life I would have such an experience but I was wrong.           
        
This past Sunday, I had just finished up in Primary (children's meeting) and was heading for a drink of water when Hermes pulled me over and whispered, "Don't tell anybody! President Uchtdorf will be in Sacrament!" My eyes widened but I went about my business feeling quite excited. For those not of my faith, President Uchtdorf  is in the First Presidency of our Church and one of our top leaders. If our church were a nation, he would be the equivalent of a Vice President. We consider him to be a prophet.            

I'm sure all the American tourists who came to our Sacrament Meeting was wondering what was going on because all of our local leaders were standing at the front in expectation looking at the door. Hermes got the advanced heads up that he was coming because he was ushering at the door and would open the door when President Uchtdorf and his family arrived. Sure enough the moment came and Hermes opened the door, signalled the congregation to stand up, and in walked President and Sister  Uchtdorf. I couldn't stop smiling.  

Let me summarize a little of what he said when he spoke to us later in the meeting.

First of all, he announced that earlier that morning, he had made on behalf of the Church ("on behalf of all of you" as he put it) a significant donation to an agency seeing to the needs of refugees who are coming by the thousands to Italy. He reemphasized again the Church's position that we provide service and do all we can to help the refugees worldwide and reminded us that in our early church history, Mormons were refugees in their own country. He said that in 1838, 10,000 Latter-day Saints were driven from their homes in the dead of winter after the Missouri government issued the Mormon extermination order, and they had to cross the river on ice with barely any winter clothing, no money, no food etc. They arrived in Quincy Illinois, a town of only 1500 people, none of whom were Mormons, but they did all they could to provide for the 10,000 Mormon refugees. There's quite a powerful short video about it here:   

So President Uchtdorf again encouraged church members to strive to be of service to refugees from Syria, Africa and elsewhere.

He also emphasized a scripture, Doctrine & Covenants 12:8 which says:
And no one can assist in this work except he be humble and full of love, having faith, hope and charity, being temperate in all things, whatsoever shall be entrusted to his care.
  
He also talked about his visit to the Rome Temple construction site and encouraged members to wait patiently and to strive to be worthy of the temple. 

I was wondering if he would be ushered quickly from the meeting before we would leave but we were thrilled when he lingered to meet as many people as he could. Here's one I took with Hermes: 

And a few others with other members and missionaries:

 Sorella Clark (below) is introducing him to some people who are investigating the Church.

This tiny cute little old sister has been in the Church for many years. This must be the thrill of her life to meet him.

To close, here is a video telling his story of being a refugee. I think it provides a good summary of what we should be striving for. See you next time! 

A Bittersweet Mission Miracle

This past week I was a witness to a sad situation which was cushioned by some tender mercies. When I answered the mission phone in Italian on Thursday afternoon, I was met by a very tearful voice asking me in English if this was the Rome mission to which I responded yes, what could I help her with. It was the mother of one of our young elders who said that her husband had just died that morning and she needed to get word to her son.

I immediately responded with my condolences and said I would get President Waddoups to talk to her. I was able to find him immediately in the office next door and he came to the phone. The fact that he was even there and immediately able to respond to the phone call is a miracle in and of itself. He and his wife are rarely in the office and are usually on the road travelling throughout the mission.

But what was even more of a miracle is that the elder himself was in the mission office at the time. The Rome West Specialized Training conference had just ended which he had attended although he is not part of the Rome West Zone. He serves in another area a couple of hours from Rome. It was necessary for him to attend the Rome West Conference because business pertaining to his residency permit prevented him from attending the conference in his own zone. So because of all this, he was right where he needed to be for President Waddoups to deliver this sad news to him in person. He not only had the in-person love and support of President and Sister Waddoups but of several of the young missionaries who were still there after the conference.

The death was highly unexpected but a few hours after receiving the news, this young elder along with his companion, got on the train and returned to his area.

Tonight when I enquired about his well being, I was told by one of the other senior missionaries another part of the story. Two nights before he received this news, he had a dream from the scriptures and apparently he never dreams about the scriptures. He saw in the dream the story from the New Testament, Luke 9: 59-60, which goes as follows:

59  And he said unto another, Follow me. But he said, Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father.

60  Jesus said unto him, Let the dead bury their dead: but go thou and preach the kingdom of God.

Missionaries are given the choice of whether to return home for a funeral of a close family member, but I understand that this missionary, after discussions with his mother and because of that dream has chosen to stay and continue his work as a missionary. Not every missionary can or will make that same decision and that's okay; it's a very personal decision but this is what this missionary chose to do. Our prayers are with him and his family.

I've often been told that there no such thing as co-incidences. While I'm not sure that's always true, I see no coincidences in this story. A loving God is mindful of this young elder, prepared him through a dream for what was to come and had him be exactly where he needed to be to receive the love and support he needed. This is a mission miracle I won't forget.

Aaaaaah! Assisi!

Years ago when I was a young teenager and a member of a different faith, I went on a church youth field trip to see the movie "Brother Sun, Sister Moon" at a movie theatre downtown. That was my first introduction to the lives of St. Francis (Santo Francesco) and St. Clare (Santa Chiara) of Assisi and I have admired them both ever since.

For those who are not familiar with St. Francis, he was a man from the late 1100s to early 1200s of fairly wealthy circumstances who gave up all his possessions and took a vow of poverty in order to dedicate his life to helping the poor and needy and to preach repentance. He believed in following the life of Christ in a very literal sense and gained many followers. Clare was one of them and she eventually started a Nun's order that was devoted to seclusion and poverty. The movie, as I recall, depicted Francis and Clare as having some sort of potential romantic relationship, but I can't see anything in my historical readings that verifies that. 

There is some speculation that Francis was influenced by a French man by the name of Peter Waldo who also espoused very similar beliefs and lifestyle in the same time period, and eventually led a religious movement called the Waldensians. The Waldensians, however, became a persecuted people by the established Catholic church and eventually aligned themselves with Protestant movements. They also came to live in secluded areas because of persecution including Torre Pelice in the northern Alps of Italy where Lorenzo Snow and his associates converted many people to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the early 1850s.

Although St. Francis seems to have followed the same ideals as Peter Waldo and his followers, the difference was that St. Francis sought the Pope's blessing for him and his followers and adhered to the Pope's command that he would only preach in areas where the Bishops allowed it. Therefore, instead of becoming persecuted and a pariah, he has become a revered figure in the Catholic Church as well as other Christian faiths. Francis even went to Egypt at one time to try and convert the Sultan in order to end the Crusades. He was truly a man of peace and love. The current Pope Francis, of course, took his name when he became pope.

So with that little history lesson behind us, and as you can probably guess, we got to go to Assisi last weekend. What an absolute jewel that town is! This was a trip that was planned with three other senior couples and we had the most wonderful time. We were there particularly to see a medieval festival called Calendimaggio. This is a festival where two sides of the city compete against each other in drumming, archery, music and more. You can find out more about it here: http://www.montesubasio.it/en/assisi-calendimaggio/

Here are some pictures of othe town:

Quite by accident, we came across a tiny little church, St. Stephens, which dates about the time Francis lived. Unlike the ornate cathedrals that are in Assisi, this is a humble little church. I can just imagine this is the type of place Francis would have been comfortable in.

When we were there, there was a group of four people singing together inside.

This is just outside its little bell tower with a view of the valley behind.

Our group was disappointed to discover that there were no tickets for the festival shows when we got there. But as Sister Sears said, we "made lemonade out of lemons" by finding a spot where one of the performing groups was readying themselves to enter the performance area and we got a good look and felt part of the action.

I thought this was such a good picture of Elder Sears standing by the action too:

We had a lovely dinner all together in a restaurant in a building dating from the middle ages. Beside me is Elder and Sister Guercio, beside them is Sister and Elder Sears and beside them beside my husband is Elder and Sister Thacker (sorry Sister Thacker - we can't see you very well).

The highlight of our Saturday (the next day) was going up to the castle at the top of Assisi. Just outside the castle walls with a view of the Umbria valley, I did my best "Hills Are Alive..." impression:

There is a tower in the castle that takes a little bit of adventuring and a lot of climbing to get up to but once you are there, you get a full 360 degree view of the countryside around Assisi. What a treat! Here is the narrow little tunnel we had to climb through to get to the bottom of that tower:

And here is us at the top:

This is the most beautifully restored Fiat 500 (from the 1960s) we have ever seen. Honestly, when you see those little cars (which are smaller than the current Fiat 500s) you feel like giving the car a pat on the head and a puppy treat. Cutest car ever!

Here's an "ick" moment. There's this fence outside of the castle where people stick their chewing gum for reasons I can't fathom:

So as the sun sets on this blog post....

let me leave you with the famous and beautiful prayer of St. Francis. May it be all of our hopes and prayers in our own thoughts and words:

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.  Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.

O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.

Consider the Poppies of the Field

"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;

they toil not, neither do they spin:

And yet I say unto you,

that Solomon in all his glory

was not arrayed like one of these."

Matthew 6: 28-29   

               
Another senior missionary was telling us one day that it is believed that Jesus was really referring to poppies, and that the word lily was simply the word the translator selected. The reason for that belief is because, like Italy, fields of poppies grow in many parts of Israel in the Spring. They would have been a common sight in Galilee, I suppose, where the Savior taught much of his Gospel.

We love the poppies which grow in the middle of roundabouts, down boulevards, poke through pavement like weeds, and just about anywhere you can think of. And as we were driving in and around the hill towns near Rome on Saturday, we were met by the above glorious sight, a giant field of poppies. I gasped when I saw it, and of course we had to stop for a picture. Saturday was a day of accidentally discovering several of the beauties of the Roman countryside.

Our intention was just to drive to the town of Godonia, where we will soon be leading an English language discussion group for people who want to practice English skills. The missionaries here provide, as a free public service, these English groups (similar to a conversation club) because there is a keen interest in learning English in Italy. Knowing English can lead to better jobs and career prospects so these groups are very popular especially because they are free. A member of our Rome ward asked if we would lead a group at the public library in Godonia as he had several people lined up there eager to be part of a group. It is far enough out of Rome that the young missionaries can't do it and we can.

So we drove to Godonia just to see where it was and became so enraptured with the scenery that we turned off the Tom Tom and decided to get lost in the hills. As we got up higher, we were enthralled with the valley below us, and found a little place to pull over and look.

Olive trees and fig trees stretched before us which again reminds me of the scriptures. Olive trees were so often used in parables, metaphors and for teaching. The Book of Mormon uses the imagery of the Olive Tree several times including the allegory of the tame and wild olive tree in Jacob chapter 5.  I remember thinking one day how interesting it is to find a parable about olive trees in there. Olive trees and olives themselves would have been completely foreign to Joseph Smith who was an uneducated boy from the boonies of upper state New York. He probably had no idea what an olive looked like as he was translating those parts. And that parable in Jacob 5 is quite inspired and complex.

These unripened figs here were just there on the side of the road. Hermes says we'll have to go back and grab some when they ripen. 

Figs are also referred to in the scriptures a few times. My favorite section of the Doctrine & Covenants, section 88, has a reference to figs:

Verse 87:

For not many days hence and the earth shall tremble

and reel to and fro as a drunken man;

and the sun shall hide his face, and shall refuse to give light; and the moon shall be bathed in blood;

and the stars shall become exceedingly angry,

and shall cast themselves down

as a fig that falleth from off a fig tree.

Okay, that verse is a bit ominous, but the section in its entirety is so dazzling to me in its depth and understanding of where we come from, our purpose here on earth, and where we're going. For me when questions and doubts arise, reading that section makes those feelings melt away and raises my spirits into a higher place. Now I can also associate it with figs, which when they're eaten at the right time, are juicy and very sweet - kind of like the scriptures can be.

Okay, back to our trip in the country!

We were stopped just after a railway bridge in a place with barely any room for a car to pull over. As usual, there was graffiti painted on the bridge by the side of the road. Graffiti is so prevalent here, but while I think it's often an eyesore, one thing I appreciate is it's very often expressions of love or wisdom, not F-bombs or expletives which is usually what graffiti is at home. In this picture here, you can see an expression of love on the brick wall of the bridge:

As we got in the car and drove a little further, the most stunning scenery unfolded before us. Across a gorge was the town of Tivoli with waterfalls cascading down the hills from the town. We were awestruck.

We had always intended to go to Tivoli because we knew it has so a couple of ancient Roman sites there to see, but we never knew it was a gorgeous town in and of itself. Here's another picture inside the town itself with a view of an ancient Roman temple on the ridge:

Needless to say, we will be visiting Tivoli again! 

Another place we will be visiting again, is a place in another part of the Roman hills that we were introduced to by our friend Alfredo (name has been changed; I didn't ask permission to put him in my blog). Alfredo is someone we met around our apartment building and he's a sweet man. Here are some of the sights we saw with him that day:

I love this country so much. I think Hermes should try and get his citizenship back and we should move here. Seriously, I do. But maybe that's just a dream. One day, on a cold January evening in Calgary, I'll be looking at these pictures and sighing. Or maybe I'll be looking at them on a cold January evening in Italy. Which is still better because it would be Italy!

A Tribute to Two Italian Pioneers

On the morning of March 31st, we received news that my husband's father, Leone Michelini, had passed away. While we knew this was coming for the previous two to three weeks, when we left on our mission in November, this was not what we expected at all. In spite of Papa being 90 years old, he seemed healthy and active when we left. We always thought he'd live to 100.  People were always amazed at how young he looked; he walked ever day to Co-op or Safeway to chat with the cashiers and did not need a cane or walker. He exercised every day, studied every day, came to Church every Sunday, and seemed his usual self. When I said goodbye to him in November, he said something to me about maybe he wouldn't be alive when we came back and I laughed and said, "Oh Papa, you'll still be here." Little did we know that his health would shortly freefall dramatically.

We brought Papa and Mamma to Canada to live with us in the year 2000. We built an extension on our house with bedrooms, a kitchen, two bathrooms and plenty of space for them to live while maintaining our own living space. Some people thought it would be a disaster for me to have my in-laws living with us, but it worked out fine. Hermes always said it's because I couldn't speak Italian and they couldn't speak English so it was perfect for avoiding conflict. As many Italians do, my husband felt he ought to be taking care of his parents in their old age and so we did.

Mamma's health was never good. Unlike Papa, her health decline was slow motion and difficult. We always knew that while she was alive, we could not go and serve a mission and that was fine. She passed away in January 2014. Because Papa's health was so good, we knew we could probably make arrangements to go soon. Hermes asked his sister Nives if she would be interested in leaving her home in Germany for a time to stay with Papa while we went on a mission, and she agreed to do so when she retired from her job in 2015. We thought this would be good time to go and began preparing.

Senior missionaries have no restrictions on phone calls home so we phoned home nearly every day from Rome. We started hearing that Papa seemed very tired and was sleeping a lot but he still kept up his daily walks. But in late February and March, the news we were getting became more serious. He went to the doctor who made appointments with specialists but in the end he wound up in hospital where he was diagnosed with massive kidney failure. Our family was told he had anywhere from a few days to a few weeks left. He was moved from the hospital to a hospice.

On Wednesday evening March 30th, we were told that he probably had only hours left and to keep the phone by our bed. As I lay in bed that night waiting to drift off to sleep, I began to think about Papa and realized how grateful I am for choices he made many years ago that ended up affecting my life profoundly. You see, Papa was the one who in 1964 made the choice to listen to the Mormon missionaries.

Papa spent much of the post-war years as a traveling musician.  He was raised in a very poor family in an obscure part of northern Italy in the Po River delta south of Venice. His father had insisted on sending him to music school where he learned violin, piano and trumpet and he, along with his father, brother and sister made a living before the war playing weddings and community events in the area. They would carry their instruments on their backs and cycle their way around the region. Here is a picture from that time.

After World War II, economic conditions were such that Papa was unable to find placement in a symphony orchestra so he joined a big band and then eventually formed his own ensemble. They did gigs all over the world on cruise ships, hotels and resorts. He had married during the war and children came after, and so he would send money home to his wife and children and see them only occasionally over the years.

In 1964, he and his Quartetto were playing in Munich, Germany. He was staying in lodgings there while his family resided in Torino, Italy. At this period of time, the Church was not allowed to proselyte in Italy. Because there were quite a number of Italian migrant workers in Munich during that period of time, the mission president in Munich ordered one district of missionaries to learn Italian and try to teach some of these workers.

One day at a street meeting, two elders talked to an Italian and asked to come meet with him. He gave them an address and later on they went by. When they got to the apartment building, there was no sign of the name of the Italian they had spoken with listed at the door, but they did see another name that looked Italian: Michelini. They buzzed the door and Papa answered. Papa was not the man they had talked to earlier (it appears that man gave them a fake address) but Papa was a curious sort and took the time to speak with them in their broken Italian. He became very very interested in their message, extended his time in Munich and invited his family up to Munich on vacation to hear what "these American students" (as he called them) had to say.

My future husband was 17 at the time. He was a good Catholic who was even considering becoming a priest. He had known only one other person in his life who wasn't Catholic, a girl at school, and he remembers that they thought she was strange. When he heard about the reason their father had invited them up, he was miffed. He decided that he would convert these Americans to the Catholic faith.

Hermes recalls that he and his younger sister had a good laugh behind the elders' backs over their attempts to speak Italian to them. For one discussion, they even hid a tape recorder behind the couch so they could play it later and have even more laughs. Of the two elders, one had learned the verbs and the other had learned the nouns. They did their best, under these conditions, to teach them. If the family had questions, the elders would write the questions down and then said they would come back later with the answers. I'm sure these elders must have done much studying in between lessons.

After a few weeks, Papa, Mamma and Nives had all agreed to baptism. Hermes was not committed. The elders arranged for him to meet with the mission president to answer more questions. Two things happened that ended up convincing him to join his family in baptism; he read a pamphlet called "Which Church is Right?" which gave the historical context of the Christian apostasy after the death of Jesus Christ and the apostles. And he had a dream which gave him peace that this was the right thing to do.

An article in the Church News that was published several months later describes a little of their story:

So Hermes, Nives and Mamma returned to Torino believing they were the only Mormons in all of Italy although they would find out later that there were individual members here and there throughout the country. But there were no others in their region, they had no leadership support for several months, and they would return to family and friends who were astonished and even angry at their conversion away from the established church. I find it a miracle that in spite of this, they kept the faith. The missionaries would arrive several months later as a district of the Swiss Mission and the branch of Torino was started in the Michelini apartment. Later they would move from Torino to Padova and were among the first members there.

I give all credit to Mamma who was truly converted in spite of having little gospel knowledge or leadership support and in turn kept her children in the Church. Under these circumstances, it would have been easy to fall away and return to old habits and customs but they did not. They were true pioneers of the Church in Italy.

Papa would continue to travel with his band for only a few more years. The popularity of The Beatles meant that there was less and less demand for the type of music he played. At age 40 he needed to find a different career. The German railway was hiring and he applied and worked until retirement for them linking up train cars and driving locomotives. Mamma and Nives would move with him to Cologne, Germany. They were an active part of the Church there and Nives continues to call Cologne home although she is temporarily in Canada.

Hermes' path would eventually take him to Canada and, even more eventually, to me. I cannot be more grateful to have him in my life.

So last Wednesday as I lay in bed thinking, I felt a flood of gratitude to Papa and his fateful decision in 1964 to listen to these two American elders. I owe him so much for that and I pay tribute to him for that. I also pay tribute to Mamma who helped keep the family strong under trying circumstances and who welcomed and loved the elders when they first arrived in Italy. 

We miss them but we also rejoice for them. We know they have had a happy reunion and that they are enjoying the company of countless family members who were awaiting his arrival in that better place.

Addio Papa. Addio Mamma. Until we meet again.