Editor's note: This story was submitted by Kathy Farnes, who is currently Relief Society president in her American Fork, Utah, ward. She and her husband, Clyde, a former LDS bishop, raised four children in the Church. This is a shortened version of the letter she sent her family in August 1992, explaining why, 25 years earlier, she had made the decision to leave the Catholic Church and her future as a nun to be baptized a Latter-day Saint.

This month I celebrate 25 years as a Mormon, a decision I have never been sorry for for even a minute. I'd like to share my conversion story with you because I love you and the gospel is the most important thing in my life.

During the two years after I left the Sisters of Divine Providence in San Antonio, Texas, I had dated, attended "regular" college classes, and worked at a department store, radio station, and insurance company. I was super-active in the Catholic Church, which I loved with all my heart, so much so that I attended mass not only on Sunday, but almost every day, in addition to making retreats and teaching CCD.

At this time, I knew I still wanted to be a nun very much, so I went to my superiors at Our Lady of the Lake and made arrangements to re-enter the convent in September 1967.

I met the Mormon missionaries in August.

Some background: It was a time when Pope John XXIII wanted Catholics to be more brotherly and would allow us to attend other churches as long as we kept our Catholic obligations. I had some really good friends at that time in San Antonio who were staunch Baptists. I attended church with them because I wanted to see what other services were like, and it was an enjoyable experience.

I was also dating an airman from Lackland Air Force Base who was Catholic. When we'd get together with his friends and talk about religion, one young man impressed me because he was the only one of the guys who didn't sound like a sissy when he talked about his beliefs. He was a Mormon. I began to wonder what Mormons believed in.

One evening I was backing out of our driveway when I saw two young men in suits on bicycles in front of our house. To this day, I don't know how I knew they were Mormon missionaries (I didn't even know there were missionaries!) but I feel now that the Lord was guiding me. I pulled up to these young men and asked them if I could have a copy of the Book of Mormon (I don't know how I knew about that either), but after knocking on doors all day, I'm sure they were happy to have someone come to them and happily gave me a copy.

I thought at that time that the Book of Mormon was a question-and-answer book like our Catholic catechism, and I could read through it and see what they believed in.

These two missionaries wanted to come by and explain the book, though, and they are blessed with the gift of persuasion, so I consented to let them come talk with me two days later. When they knocked on my door, I literally locked the door and made them promise not to try to convert me if I let them in. They promised. (Later, I would accuse them of lying, but they assured me that it had been the Spirit — not them — who'd converted me.)

I only remember one question I asked them, and that was if they believed in Jesus Christ. They assured me that they did and that the real name of the church was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

My mother was worried about my having these young missionaries over to teach me, but I told her that she didn't need to worry because I was the strongest Catholic in the family, planning to re-enter the convent soon, and there was no way they could shake my faith. Mom stayed in the kitchen while these missionaries visited with me because she wasn't interested in listening to them then.

These missionaries were incredible young men. I was hard on them. I didn't believe in the Book of Mormon, so I wouldn't let them teach me from it. To me, it would be biased because it was written by a Mormon, I thought. I also believed that only Catholics had the true version of the Bible, so I also wouldn't let those missionaries teach me from their King James Version. I made them teach me from my Catholic Douay-Rheims Bible. And they were able to do it!

Because I knew the Scriptures pretty well, having spent four and a half years in the convent, I had two scriptures going through my mind as these young missionaries taught me. They are both from Matthew 7:15-16. The first was, "Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves."

I was really scared of these missionaries. Even though they were nice looking, I worried that they might be Satan's advocates, striving to tear me away from the true church. But the second scripture, the very next line, says, "By their fruits you will know them," and never had I met such sincere young men. They were humble, knowledgeable, and filled with the Spirit of Christ, and they never once criticized my beliefs.

To my surprise, Elder William E. Lieber from New York, had been a Catholic himself, and he knew how to explain things in light of my Catholic upbringing. His companion was Elder Stephen Udall from Arizona. I will be forever indebted to them for the patience and love with which they taught me.

I told them about my yearning to be a nun and how I had been Sister Mary Peter. This was important because it would tie into my decision to be baptized into the LDS Church a mere three weeks later — something I definitely never intended to happen.

I have always loved the Apostle Peter. It seemed he was always putting his foot in his mouth and saying the wrong thing. He even denied knowing Christ. And yet, when he came to fully understand the plan of salvation and Christ's identity, he became a great leader and suffered martyrdom to prove his love. I look forward to meeting Peter someday because he helped me join the LDS Church. (I'll explain later.)

Each evening after the missionaries came to teach me, as soon as I would see them turn the corner on their bikes, I would jump in my car and go and see the Catholic priest and tell him everything the missionaries had told me. He didn't forbid me to meet with them and was interested in what I was learning. Sometimes he would answer my questions, and sometimes he could not.

After a couple weeks, he left for an extended trip to Ireland and told me to come see him when I got back. I remember going to see him after my conversion, and he greeted me with, "Well, Kathy, are you Mormon or Catholic?" When I answered "Mormon,” he nearly died on the spot and shortly thereafter was transferred. I'm sure he felt like a failure.

But back to my investigation of the Church. I called the missionaries one night at their apartment with a question. They answered it, and then one of them said to me that they had been fasting and praying in my behalf, and that the Lord had revealed to them that I would be baptized that coming Saturday, about four days away. I was livid; they had broken their promise! I was determined to prove them wrong.

On Friday afternoon the missionaries met me at work. They talked with me while I ate lunch and taught me the principle of fasting. I agreed but told the missionaries I was not going to be baptized the next day: I had a hair appointment and wasn't going to get my hair wet, and I had a jewelry party to give Saturday evening. I was just too busy! They did not pressure me.

That afternoon was so quiet in the office at work that I put a piece of paper in the typewriter and labeled it "Catholicism vs. Mormonism." I made two columns, "Things I'll Miss in the Catholic Church" and "Things I See and Want in the Mormon Church,” and then I just started listing things as they came to my mind. To my amazement, the Mormon list got longer. And I got a little nervous. (I still have the original paper I wrote that day. I'll treasure it always.

Never in my life had I prayed so hard to make the right decision and not be deceived. When I had been in the convent, I had prayed with all my heart that if the Lord didn't want me to be a nun, He would let me know before I made final vows. Those vows were so sacred that I never wanted to break them once they were made. Now, was I going to be a nun or was I going to join another church? What a dilemma! I was terrified; and yet, at the same time, I had such a peaceful feeling every time I prayed about anything the missionaries taught me. I couldn't find one thing that wasn't good about the missionaries, the members, the church services, or the teachings.

Well, Saturday arrived, and I canceled my hair appointment — not because I was going to be baptized, I told myself, but because I was just so busy that day. The missionaries came, we talked some more, and then they outright challenged me to be baptized that day. I said no; it was just too soon. I had been a Catholic for 21 years, and they had only been teaching me for three weeks. Even though I felt good about what they were teaching me, it was just too soon to make that critical of a step in my life without more time to study.

The missionaries took my Catholic Bible and opened to Acts 2 and read to me about Pentecost and how the frightened apostles in the upper room had received the gift of the Holy Ghost and were strengthened to go out and preach about Jesus Christ to the Jews: “And Peter went out and preached mightily to the people, who were pierced to the heart, and asked what they should do. And Peter said to them to repent and be baptized, every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ ... and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:37, 38).” It goes on to say that 3,000 were baptized that day.

The missionaries looked at me and said, "Those people only had a few hours to know that the church was true, and you've had three weeks."

It was as if Peter was telling me to be baptized. So, I took a deep breath and said, "Okay, I'll be baptized." Well, those missionaries wasted no time in getting me to the church for this special occasion. They asked me to invite my mother to come, and to my surprise, she wanted to.

There were two of us being baptized that afternoon of August 19, 1967. One was a girl about 15 or 16. I was on the other side of the room absolutely terrified, wondering if I was about to lose my eternal soul. I didn't have a perfect knowledge that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the true church, but once again, neither had I had even one negative feeling about it the whole time I had been praying, fasting, and studying its beliefs.

Elder Lieber led me down into the water and baptized me. The very minute I came up out of the water, I knew without a doubt I had done the right thing. I had the most overwhelming feeling of peace and comfort and love.

During the two years I was away from the convent, I missed that closeness with the Lord that I had felt there, but I found it again in the Mormon Church. Being a Latter-day Saint is not just a Sunday thing but an everyday awareness of who Christ is, what He has done for us, how we need to strive to become like Him, and how we live our lives so that we can live with Him again someday.

I remember when I was baptized, I asked the elders if they were sure I knew everything there was to know about the Mormon Church. They told me that that would take a lifetime. They promised me I knew enough to be baptized, and that was sufficient. They were so right; I am learning all the time, and I don't have all the answers to everyone's questions. But in this church we don't have to accept things on blind faith; we are encouraged to read, study and pray and come to a knowledge for ourselves.

I do know I love this Church and what it has done for me in my life. I could not be happier or more blessed. Even though I wouldn't let the missionaries teach me out of the Book of Mormon, I have grown to love that book.

LDS missionaries don't prove it's true by argument and logic; they teach you the principles of the Church, the truths in the Book of Mormon, and then challenge you to pray to God and find the truth for yourself. No other church can be that confident in its teachings.

In all these 25 years, I have never criticized the Catholic Church. I'm grateful for the upbringing I had there, especially for my experience in the convent, because when the truth was presented to me, I was able to accept it. I was grateful to the missionaries for building on what I knew and loved.