Gospel Story Finder

As a young woman, she was impressed with the importance of finding a worthy young man to marry and made it a matter of daily prayer and weekly fasting. After high school she attended Brigham Young University on a dance scholarship and met Mark Durham, who was attending the University of Utah. “I immediately recognized his goodness,” she said.
The couple married in June 1974 in the Salt Lake Temple. They have seven children.

Juan’s parents taught him as a child to follow standards that bless his life. These helped him grow and develop his talents. “Since I was little, I set goals in Primary and Young Men to learn instruments,” he explains. “I play the violin, flute, piano, and now the guitar. I like the guitar most of all.”
Juan also set personal fitness goals based on Fulfilling My Duty to God. Over the years he has studied tae kwon do, swimming, and gymnastics, and he was even on his school’s running team.
“I love to learn. That’s why I always took the challenge to learn a new instrument or sport, to learn something more,” he says.
These goals also supported a larger objective. “Everything I’ve done, all that I have studied, all the physical preparation, all the goals I’ve set—everything has been with the object of going on a mission,” he explains. “And going on a mission is just part of another goal: to be sealed in the temple and become a good husband.”

I was born to a good Catholic family in 1949 on the Mediterranean island of Sardinia. There, I was given a Christian education and attended church regularly.
The people of Sardinia have always been quite independent, so it is not surprising that, despite being governed by Italy, they have kept their native tongue as their only language. Consequently, as I grew up, I spoke only Sardic, a language similar to Latin, until I started school at age six.
At school, however, all of our communication was in Italian. This new language fascinated me, and I tried hard to learn it. I was disadvantaged, however, because no one in my family had any books in Italian. All I had were my school books.
Other than having this unusual interest in Italian, I was a typical boy. After school, my five friends and I would play in town. One day we went to the city dump to look for bicycle parts. When we left the dump, we showed each other our “treasures.” I had found a steering wheel, and my friend Franziskeddo wanted it. He offered me in exchange an Italian book he had found. I immediately agreed, although the book was missing the cover and some of the first pages. I was very excited. Finally I had my first book in Italian—in fact my first book ever!
When I started to read it, I discovered religious stories of men I had never heard of—Lehi, Nephi, Alma, Helaman, Moroni. Though I knew nothing of the book’s origin, I had a good and safe feeling whenever I read it. By my 16th year, I had read the book at least 10 times, still without knowing its name. Then, about this time, I left Sardinia and settled in Italy. I eventually lost the book, but the stories and teachings stayed in my memory.
Years later, sometime in the 1970s, I moved to Germany and found a job in Hagen at a sugar-machine factory. One day an engineer with the company returned from a business trip to the United States. He brought with him a book in German titled Das Buch Mormon. Knowing I was interested in religion, he loaned it to me. Unfortunately, my language skills in German were not very good, and I understood very little of what I read—though somehow it seemed familiar.
A few years later, two young men came to my door in Hagen. They introduced themselves as missionaries and asked for a little time to introduce their church—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I listened as they told the story of Joseph Smith. At the end of the hour, they gave me a book and asked me to read it. It was a copy of the Book of Mormon.
I immediately liked what I read, beginning with the first verse: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents … “I felt that the book was speaking to me, for I, too, had goodly parents.
As I continued to read, memories flooded into my mind. This was something I had read before! I marvelled at the miracle that had brought into my hands the book I had read so eagerly as a child. With the memories also came the same good, comfortable feeling I had always had while reading the book in my youth. The Lord’s hand in this situation was clear to me, and I found it easy to accept that this book was truly holy scripture and that the church of God was again on the earth. I soon became a member of his church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I wonder who it was who threw that torn copy of the Book of Mormon on a trash dump in Sardinia in 1955. I would like to thank that person for introducing me to the treasures of Christ’s gospel.

“Do you know where I met Martin?” she asked them, coming to the kitchen entrance to talk. “At the five and ten store in Missoula. I was only 18 then. He was home from the army on a 30-day leave. It was a couple of days before Valentine Day, and I was working at the jewelry counter. After about a half an hour, he finally picked out something. He thrust it into my hand, paid for it, and asked if I’d gift wrap it. Well I did, but when I gave it to him, he just looked down, shook his head, gave it back, and mumbled, ‘It’s for you.’ And that was the beginning. Since he was going overseas in just a few weeks, we ended up getting married before he left.”
They listened to the records while they ate their snack.
“When Martin came back from the war, he worked at various jobs for a few years, and then we got a chance to get this place. It had belonged to his father. We’ve been here ever since.”
After the last record on the stack had played, she showed them the necklace. It was a tiny chain with a small silver heart in the middle. “I think it cost all of two dollars. Oh, there’s an inscription on the back. Can you still read it?”
“It says, ‘Love is forever.’” Cathy slowly read the worn inscription.
“I haven’t thought about that necklace for years.”

When I was a young child, my grandmother Richards lived in the upstairs bedroom of our home. Although she was in her nineties and failing in health, her mind was alert, and her hands spent most of the day crocheting trim around flannel baby blankets. Grandma was such a part of our lives that I can’t ever remember her not being in our home. She was very patient. My younger brother, Rich, and I spent many hours taking Grandma “for pretend rides” in her hospital bed. The crank at the foot of the bed could be rotated so that the head or the foot could be raised or lowered. When she was resting, we would come into her room and ask her if we could crank her up or down. Once, when we tired of this game, we ran off to play, leaving Grandma with both her head and her feet in the air in a “V” position.
She never scolded us for doing this, nor would she allow our mother to, either. She understood that we were children. She simply picked up the gold bell by her side and rang it until one of our older sisters or parents came to her rescue.
Every evening, rocking in her chair, she would call us to her side and ask that we say our prayers with her. She taught us a sweet little verse which we would repeat: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” Afterward we offered our individual prayers to Heavenly Father. She would listen carefully and tell us that she loved us. Through her example, she taught me about patience. She taught me about prayer. She taught me about love.

Dear Journal,
Today I watched general conference at the church. Sometimes I get bored because conference seems too long for my ten-year-old body. But today I decided to follow the advice of my Primary teacher. She told me that I’d get more out of the talks if I listened carefully and figured out how I could use what was said in my life. I tried very hard to do that, and I think I did pretty well.
When President Hunter gave the last talk, I listened especially hard. I can’t remember everything he said, but I know that he asked us to be more like Jesus Christ. I’m going to try.

Hey, Sam!
What’s wrong?
I can’t find Floppy, my elephant from Great-Aunt Alice!
I’ll help you look.
We’ll never find him.
Let’s say a prayer for help.
Heavenly Father, please help us find Floppy.
Hmm …
Sam! Look!
You found him!
Let’s say a prayer to say thank you.
Heavenly Father, thank you for helping me find Floppy.
Now there’s one more thing we should do.
Can I play too?
Heavenly Father cares about what we care about! We can pray to Him anytime, anywhere, about anything.

An example of changing one’s opinion of himself comes from a bishop I know. He used to wonder about a portion of his patriarchal blessing which states that he “will be a leader of men and will be called to many positions of leadership in the Church.” He just knew he wasn’t the leader type. But eventually he was called to serve as a counselor in the elders quorum presidency, and later as its president. He gained knowledge and experience and he continued to serve, first as president of two more elders quorums, then as a high councilor, and now as a bishop. “It’s strange how long it took me to learn that the Lord knows me better than I know myself,” he comments. “I still don’t desire leadership positions, but I know if they come, the Lord will provide the necessary help if I do all I can.”

As our youngest son, Clark, was approaching his 12th birthday, he and I were leaving the Church Administration Building when President Harold B. Lee approached and greeted us. I mentioned that Clark would soon be 12, whereupon President Lee turned to him and asked, “What happens to you when you turn 12?”

This was one of those times when a father prays that a son will be inspired to give a proper response. Clark, without hesitation, said to President Lee, “I will be ordained a deacon!”

The answer was the one President Lee had sought. He then counseled our son, “Remember, it is a great blessing to hold the priesthood.”

June 5, 1976, began early for the Ashcraft family in Wilford, Idaho. It was Wayne’s twelfth birthday, and it turned out to be an unexpectedly eventful Saturday for him and thousands of people in and around Rexburg, Idaho. By evening of that same day the Ashcrafts had lost their new three-month-old home, and their land and farm equipment were ruined when later that morning the Teton Dam broke, spreading disaster throughout the valley. But the Ashcraft family was safe.
Sister Ashcraft, Cara Lynn (4) and Greg (2) were in Salt Lake City, visiting relatives.
Meanwhile in Wilford, sprinkler pipes for irrigating had to be moved and ditches dug that day so Ronald (13), Wayne (12), Kaleen (11), Cynthia (10), and Renee (9) helped.
The girls had never moved pipe before. “I really didn’t want to help,” Kaleen admitted. “I wanted to go to a Primary activity instead. But Dad came and got us up, and by nine o’clock we’d moved all the pipes and were digging ditches.”
“Dad had told me to take a shovel and clean out a ditch, and I was just taking my time,” Wayne shyly admitted. “I figured I’d be through before Dad got back to the pickup. He had to check the water and everything first.
“Later when I was done, I met Dad and we got on the tractor and headed toward the road.
“Our neighbor, Roger Weber, was out in the field chasing his horses. He started shouting something, and Dad shut the tractor off so we could hear. Roger told us the dam was breaking.”
“We thought we had about an hour,” Ronald added, “so I took the tractor down to the other end of the field. Then we all got in the pickup and headed home.
“We were about a mile from our house when another neighbor said we couldn’t go any farther. Dad said, ‘Oh, surely I can make it home.’
“Our neighbor said, ‘You’d be foolish to try.’ But Dad wanted to try anyway.
“We went about a quarter mile and just around the corner we saw Virgil Wad’s spud pit go. Turning the pickup around, we saw Dean Dawes’ place being covered by the water. We headed next for Bischoff’s spud pit, then decided to go for higher ground.
“We started for the hill on one side of the valley, but the water began coming, so we went to the other side. We had to hurry because the road was in the valley.”
From that hill the Ashcraft family watched the water go around them and then hit their home. Stunned by what they were seeing, Wayne suggested that he and his brother and sisters go off by themselves to pray. Cynthia said, “I got in the back of the pickup, knelt down by a tire, and prayed. After that I thought, Everything’s going to be OK. The water will start to go down.”
But it didn’t.
Just then some airplanes flew over the area. One of the planes spotted the families below stranded on the hill. The pilot flew back to the airport in St. Anthony and returned in a military plane that landed in a grainfield. The Ashcrafts and others climbed aboard and were taken to St. Anthony.
The Ashcraft family lost their home and all of their earthly possessions except a little football belonging to Greg that they found downstream from their home several miles. But today they are happy they are alive and together and are thankful for all the help they have received.
The people of the Idaho flood area feel blessed. The Church through its welfare program has provided them with food, clothing, and shelter. Church members have opened up their homes and their hearts to the stricken families.
The Ashcrafts plan to return to their once fertile land, now covered by many feet of sand and gravel. There they will live in two trailer houses until they can build a new home.
This family will always remember one important lesson—to follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost. When Cynthia asked her father why he insisted on taking them with him that Saturday morning, he said he had a feeling that he should take them.
And Cynthia understood!

A group of young women came to the Jordan River Utah Temple to do baptisms for the dead. As they were waiting, their leader started thinking. That day they were doing baptisms by proxy for people who could not do them for themselves. She starting thinking about a Laurel in her ward who, because of a terrible traffic accident, was not able to earn her Young Womanhood medallion for herself.
Could they all help? Could they do something like Personal Progress by proxy?
The leader, Suzanne Rentmeister, and the Young Women of the Prairie 13th Ward in the West Jordan Utah Prairie Stake, made a plan. First they went to their bishop and stake president. After receiving an enthusiastic OK, they felt they needed to talk to Laura White, the Laurel who would be the one to receive their gift of service. Even though Laura cannot speak, her bouyant smile answered louder than words that she loved the idea. The other girls in Young Women were asked if they wanted to participate but were told they didn’t need to if they were too busy or did not feel the desire. Every girl and every leader wanted to be involved.
The Young Women leaders created a chart with all the value experiences and projects on it. Then they held something like an auction. Girls could pick which value experiences and projects they wanted to do.
“Who wants Good Works #7? Who will take Divine Nature #1?” The chart filled up as fast as they could write. Taylor Ligman, 13, remembers that Sunday. “Our leaders pulled out this chart. It was like names were everywhere. I signed up for four of the experiences.”
Before things got going in high gear, they all agreed on three rules: (1) The girls could not do double duty; (2) working on the experiences they chose could not count towards fulfilling their own Personal Progress—they had to sacrifice their time; and (3) they had to keep it a secret from Laura’s parents. Laura’s younger sister, Amy, a Beehive, agreed that doing the project as a surprise for her parents was a fun idea.
“We were really excited,” said Bailee Bloomquist, 14. “I haven’t had a lot of opportunities to do much service. This was a cool experience. I had to spend 10 hours on a talent. I practiced a piece on the piano to play for the program when Laura would receive her medallion.”
Alexa Pengue, 14, said, “I chose to focus on living righteously following For the Strength of Youth for three weeks. I just wanted to keep going.” Alexa will get the chance because she did this experience for Laura and has yet to do it for her own Personal Progress.
“It feels good to do this for Laura,” said Arienna White, 13. “It makes you feel good that you’re helping someone who couldn’t do it for herself.”
“It doesn’t seem fair that we can just pass things off and get it done and Laura can’t,” said Braygan Berrett, 15. “I thought our Young Women president was totally looking out for her. The only way she could earn it was through us.”
Actually Laura was able to do one Personal Progress experience for herself. She was able to participate in family home evening and family scripture reading. Her leaders were thrilled to sign that off for her.
When the girls all volunteered to help and as they were dividing up the experiences, Sister Rentmeister said, “Laura was with us in that meeting, and she was just beaming. She lit up.”
This experience has brought all sorts of blessings to these Young Women. For example, all the other Laurels in the class wanted to receive their medallions at the same time as Laura, so they went to work and finished the requirements for their medallions.
The Mia Maids reported having some of their most spiritual experiences working on the experiences they volunteered to complete for Laura.
And the Beehive leader reports that the Beehives have been “just crazy” about service ever since. They want to do something every week—pull weeds, help with the food drive, anything anyone needs done.
On the ward’s Night of Excellence, Laura and Amy’s parents wondered why their six sons with daughters-in-law and grandchildren had traveled into town for the program. When Laura was wheeled to the front and lined up with those who were to receive their medallions, everyone in the room understood. It was a visible lesson of what it means to do something by proxy, doing something for someone who cannot do it for themselves.

I was ordained a deacon in a branch so small that I was the only deacon and my brother Ted the only teacher. We were the only family in the branch. The entire branch met in our home. The priesthood leader for my brother and me was a new convert who had just received the priesthood himself. I believed then my only priesthood duty was to pass the sacrament in my own dining room.
When my family moved to Utah, I found myself in a large ward with many deacons. In my first sacrament meeting there, I observed the deacons—an army, it seemed to me—moving with precision as they passed the sacrament like a trained team.
I was so frightened that the next Sunday I went early to the ward building to be by myself when no one could see me. I remember that it was the Yalecrest Ward in Salt Lake City, and it had a statue on the grounds. I went behind the statue and prayed fervently for help to know how not to fail as I took my place in passing the sacrament. That prayer was answered.
But I know now that there is a better way to pray and to think as we try to grow in our priesthood service. It has come by my understanding why individuals are given the priesthood. The purpose for our receiving the priesthood is to allow us to bless people for the Lord, doing so in His name.
It was years after I was a deacon when I learned what that means practically. For instance, as a high priest, I was assigned to visit a care center sacrament meeting. I was asked to pass the sacrament. Instead of thinking about the process or precision in the way I passed the sacrament, I instead looked in the faces of each elderly person. I saw many of them weeping. One lady grabbed my sleeve, looked up, and said aloud, “Oh, thank you, thank you.”
The Lord had blessed my service given in His name. That day I had prayed for such a miracle to come instead of praying for how well I might do my part. I prayed that the people would feel the Lord’s love through my loving service. I have learned this is the key to serving and blessing others in His name.

After the first area conference in Paris, we traveled to Helsinki, Finland. President Kimball had been actively working now for three days. He was up early every morning, worked a very heavy schedule throughout the day, and then went to bed late at night. His responsibilities were greater than anyone else’s.
His job included not only presiding and conducting, but he spoke for long periods of time using a translator. He had held an exhausting press conference and had interviewed and set apart many local Church authorities. We boarded an airplane late in the evening for Helsinki. It was necessary to change planes in Copenhagen, and as we walked through the hallways of the airport, President Kimball carried a travel bag with his suits in it. I had a free hand and walked up and said, “President Kimball, let me carry that.” He turned and said, “No, thank you, I have to have a reason for being here.” He was almost serious in humbly expressing his desire to carry his own weight; he didn’t want to be a burden on anyone. I was impressed with that same beautiful attitude during the entire trip.

It was a bitter cold Sunday morning in Larsmo, Finland, as young Anders Johansson left his house to walk to church. He did not mind the cold weather because he was dressed warmly, and he enjoyed the three-mile walk to the small Baptist meeting place. Anders always felt good on the Sabbath because he liked to learn about God.
Suddenly a rock stung Anders’ leg; then another caught him on the back. He did not stop to ask questions, but immediately took off running across the field. The good feeling he had experienced only moments ago was gone.
Why do they throw rocks at me just because I belong to a different church, Anders wondered. I belong in this village just as much as they do—even if I do worship differently!
At this time Finland was under Russian rule and most people belonged to the state-controlled Lutheran Church. Like Anders, most of those who joined other churches often found themselves in trouble. The rocks really had not hurt him much, but how Anders wished that his neighbors in Larsmo would be tolerant of other religions.
While Anders was just a small boy, a young man living in Sweden by the name of Gustaf Wallgren became a member of the Church. Shortly afterward he was sent to Finland to work for the Russian government. Before leaving Sweden, however, he was ordained an elder in order that he might preach the gospel to the Finnish people and baptize them. Gustaf was undoubtedly the very first Mormon in Finland.
Late in the year 1875 missionaries were sent from Sweden to Finland. The Finnish government openly opposed activity in any church except the state-controlled church, and a law was passed forbidding people to stand and preach the doctrines of any other religion. In order to comply with the law, therefore, all of the missionaries proselyting in Finland had to sit down while preaching the gospel. Letters from these first missionaries report that this unusual preaching position went “well after we got used to it.”
Only a very few people in Finland dared to listen to anyone who talked of a new religion. Those who did were often hunted down, tried, and subjected to the most severe punishment possible under the law. One man who became a member of the Church was sentenced to 28 days’ imprisonment and allowed only small amounts of bread to eat and water to drink during the whole time of his solitary confinement.
In the summer of 1880 some Mormon missionaries from Sweden went to Larsmo, an island about fifteen miles long off the west coast of Finland. Because of government difficulties, they did not stay long. Before they left, however, Anders and his wife heard the gospel and were baptized. For a while they were the only members of the Church on that island.
Anders soon wanted to share the gospel with others, so he invited friends and relatives into his home to hear about the wonderful new religion. His father-in-law, the mailman, and some neighbors believed and asked to be baptized.
“I’m not sure if I can baptize you,” Anders replied. “I’ll have to go to the mission president in Sweden to see if I have the authority to do so.”
Since such a trip by boat was expensive, those he had been teaching helped contribute the money that he needed to go to Sweden, where he was ordained an elder.
At Larsmo, in July 1946, Finland was rededicated to the preaching of the gospel, and in 1947 this country opened her doors to those religions that wished to establish missions.
Not long afterward, the Finland Mission was organized. Now in 1972 there are 23 branches of the Church there.
Because of Anders’ courage in worshiping God in the manner he believed to be right, many of his children and grandchildren, as well as friends and neighbors, are now members of the Church. The first branch president in the Finland Mission was Anselm Stromberg, grandson of Anders Johansson Stromberg, the latter name being added when it became necessary for everyone in Finland to choose a last name.

I served in the Hungary Budapest Mission. When I returned home early, it was hard because all my companions were still out on their missions and I missed being a missionary. I also feared that other Church members would judge me, but fortunately, everyone treated me with love and understood my situation.
As time passed, I felt better. I read an article in the Liahona about early-returned missionaries that helped me feel better because I didn’t feel I was the only one anymore (see Destiny Yarbro, “Home Earlier Than Planned,” Liahona, Jan. 2018, 44–47). And I also took to heart what my aunt said: “Missionary work continues wherever we are.”
Lucas Ludwig Saito, São Paulo, Brazil

My father was my best friend while I was growing up. He had a great influence on my life because of the way he treated my mother. I never, ever heard him speak a cross word to her. He treated me and the rest of our family with the same kindness.
He often took me fishing. We also worked together at our family’s sawmill. After working hard all day, we sometimes went on evening picnics. Spending time working and playing together created a real family bond.

I have a best friend. Her name is Barbara. We love watching and singing along to movies. We go on walks together and look at the flowers on the temple grounds. We read princess stories together every night. When I’m around Barbara, I can be myself. Not only is she my dearest friend, but she is also my sister.
Barbara has cerebral palsy, a condition that affects her physically and mentally. She can’t walk, and she needs to be fed through a tube. She loves singing but struggles to verbally communicate her feelings, wants, and needs. And although Barbara is 29, mentally she acts like a toddler.
Even though Barbara is four years older than me, I’ve always felt like the “big sister.” My family’s whole world revolves around her. She is the sun, and we are the circling planets. While the situation sometimes has amazing benefits—like being able to skip lines at amusement parks—other times it means making sacrifices, like not going to certain activities or needing to host events in our home. Each day we review our schedule to make sure someone is always taking care of Barbara and her needs.
To help my parents take care of her, my older brother and I matured very quickly. We had to learn how to identify when Barbara was having a seizure and what to do, how to feed her through a tube, how to change her diapers, and how to prepare her medications when we were very young. While this early maturity helped me have confidence in myself, it did make socializing a huge struggle.
I felt so different from everyone my age. Even if I was invited to hang out with friends and my parents encouraged me to go, I struggled to have fun because I felt guilty that my parents had so much to do at home. Other times I would have a hard time enjoying myself when Barbara was struggling with her health. Most of the time, I just wanted a friend to sit down with me and listen.
Sometimes I felt like no one understood what I was going through. But a few things helped remedy that loneliness. I decided I’d try to reach out to people who might be feeling similarly. When I did go to activities or church, I tried to include those who were sitting alone or who looked like they were having a bad day. As Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Miracles occur when we care for each other as He would.”1 And I saw miracles come into my life. I felt much more comfortable going to activities and was happier when I offered love to others.
Another thing that helped was realizing how much the Savior truly understood me. I realized that He knew exactly what I was going through and would always be with me. I focused more on getting to know Him through the scriptures and prayer. Sometimes when I prayed, I would imagine that He and Heavenly Father were sitting with me and listening. When I have difficult feelings and feel overwhelmed at how unfair Barbara’s situation seems at times, I remember that Christ will help me find peace and reassurance. Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explained this perfectly when he said, “In unfair situations, one of our tasks is to trust that ‘all that is unfair about life can be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.’”2
Having a loved one with a disability can require near-superhuman strength. It affects your life physically, mentally, emotionally, financially, and spiritually. For the past 29 years, my parents have awakened nearly every day at 2:00 in the morning to care for Barbara. We all go to the gym regularly so we can be strong enough to lift and carry Barbara when necessary. And so many other responsibilities can take a toll on us all.
How do we possibly do everything?
This can be described in one word: grace.
“Grace [is the] enabling power and spiritual healing offered through the mercy and love of Jesus Christ. …
“The grace of God helps us every day. It strengthens us to do good works we could not do on our own.”3
What do I love most about Barbara? With her I’ve learned more about the Savior’s love for us. You can’t help but feel of His love when you’re around Barbara. Despite all her difficulties, she is always smiling, singing, and making us laugh. However, there are also days where I feel helpless, when nothing seems to make her feel better. But because of my experiences, I know with certainty that the Savior understands what both Barbara and I are going through. No matter our earthly trials, a beautiful aspect of the Savior’s enabling power is that we can not only be given strength to experience and overcome hard things but also do it all with joy.
Editors’ note: Since the time that this article was written, the author’s sister has passed away.
You can submit your own article, ideas, or feedback at liahona.ChurchofJesusChrist.org. We can’t wait to hear from you!

“Please tell me a story,” Jeff said to his granny.
Granny began, “Once upon a time there was a boy.”
“He was a little boy,” Jeff said.
Granny began again. “Once upon a time there was a bad little boy.”
“No, Granny. That isn’t the way the story goes,” Jeff said. “He was a good little boy.”
Once more Granny started the story. “Once upon a time there was a good little boy.”
Jeff nodded his head up and down. “That’s the right story.”
“This good little boy was going to town.”
Jeff shook his head. “No, no, Granny. Don’t you remember? That very good little boy was going to his granny’s house.”
Granny smiled at Jeff. “That’s the same old story. Wouldn’t you like to hear a new one?”
“I like the old story,” Jeff insisted.
So Granny told it. “Once upon a time there was a very good little boy. His daddy took him in the car to see his granny. When they got to Granny’s house. Daddy stopped the car in the driveway. He smoothed Jeff’s hair and tucked Jeff’s shirttail in. ‘Be a good boy,’ Daddy said.
“Jeff climbed out of the car and waved good-bye to Daddy. Then Jeff rang Granny’s doorbell.
“When Granny opened the door, she pretended that she didn’t know him. ‘Good morning,’ Granny said. ‘Are you selling something? I don’t think I need anything today.’
“Jeff began to giggle. ‘Don’t you need a good little boy?’
“Granny made her face look surprised. ‘How did you know? That’s the only thing that I need.’
“Jeff laughed out loud. ‘I’m just what you need!’ he said.”
Granny stopped telling the story and hugged Jeff. “It’s the same old story,” she said.
“That’s why I like it,” Jeff told her. “Could we have a glass of milk and a cookie for that very good little boy? That comes next in that same old story.”

Virgilio Simarrón Salazar was a leader in his native Chachi community of northern Ecuador. To this day, the Chachi maintain their distinct way of life and their own system of justice with a communal council, governors, and judges. These leadership roles are typically positions of honor that families hold for generations and that are built on a deep foundation of community respect and esteem. Respect for the position was a trust to be cared for and passed on to the next generation.
But Virgilio Simmarón’s plans for his life changed in 1996, when his son, Wilson, returned from studies in Quinindé with copies of the Book of Mormon and a firm testimony of his new religion. Filled with the faith and enthusiasm of one who has found the truth, Wilson shared the message of the gospel with his family, and they were soon baptized in the waters of the Canandé River.
As the Simarróns shared the gospel with Chachi friends and neighbors, however, a serious conflict developed. Some Chachis felt that Virgilio Simarrón’s beliefs made him a heretic and even considered violence against him. Others felt that, as a governor, he should not participate in a new faith that might divide the people. With this concern, they took him to be tried by the communal council. It would be one of the most difficult experiences of Virgilio’s life.
Wilson relates what happened: “The council, in full assembly, told my father, ‘You will remain as our governor if you renounce the Church of Jesus Christ; you must retract.’ My father said, ‘I made a commitment to God, and when a man makes a commitment to God, it is not retractable. I cannot give up the Church. If you think I’m a governor who has divided the Chachi people, then oh my people, choose you this day another one in my place.’ Then I saw the scene of my father crying. The council was in total silence for more than five minutes—nobody said anything. Then someone said, ‘Then Governor, leave.’ Slowly my father stood, so my mom, my sister, and I went down and left the council.”
After Brother Simarrón was removed from his office, difficult days followed for the family. Feeling contempt from many who had once respected them, the family turned to the faith they had embraced and preached the gospel with great fervor. Their stake president, Omar Intriago Cesar, explains: “They began to preach the gospel from house to house to each family of this community. The Guayacana Branch started with Virgilio Simarrón and his son, Wilson. The Church was established because of his faith, his strength, and his testimony.”
In just a few years, the efforts of the Simarrón family bore great fruit. May 30, 1999, became a day of celebration in Guayacana when a large baptismal service was held. President Intriago recalls, “We arrived with Roberto Garcia, the mission president, and both participated in that glorious day, where on the beaches of the Canandé River, two missionaries baptized 60 people. Then, President Garcia on one side and I on another confirmed as members of the Church all who were baptized. It was a privilege that will never be erased from my life.”
Although Virgilio gave up his governorship to stay true to his testimony, he was able to pass on another legacy to the next generation: that of serving the people by establishing the gospel among them. He lived to see Wilson serve a full-time mission and then return to Guayacana to marry his wife, Ruth, and have children. Some years later, Virgilio died faithful in the Church. His wife, Maria Juana Apa, has lived to witness their son’s calling, in 2014, to serve as branch president in Guayacana.
Wilson is very aware of the heritage his father always wanted to give him. “My ancestors have always been governors, heads of soldiers, strong warriors,” he says. “I feel that all these ancestral roots still manifest in me. But now that I am a member of the Church, all that strength has helped me become a good soldier of Jesus Christ.”
Ruth and Wilson Simarrón

The entire family enjoys drama. They put on skits, puppet shows, and brief musicals during family home evenings and for summer activities. One of their favorite skits was a Western, which they did for a Primary talent show in Emmett, Idaho. Nicholas liked it because he got to fall into a pie tin filled with whipped cream. Ashley liked it because she had a beard made of chocolate—yum! Sometimes they wear animal noses and play zoo.