Gospel Story Finder

“Margaret and Neil, take this wheat to the gristmill on City Creek, please,” Mother said.
Neil smiled happily. He was only four years old, but he liked to help Mother as much as he could. He proudly took the small bag of wheat kernels in his arms.
“I’ll carry it,” Margaret announced, snatching the bag from Neil’s arms. “You’re too little. You might drop it, and you know we can’t afford to lose any of it!”
That was certainly true! When the Gardner family had arrived in the Salt Lake Valley on October 3, 1847, they had rejoiced that they had reached this sanctuary for the Saints. But that didn’t mean that everything was perfect. Now it was winter, and Neil was often hungry. Each family received a little wheat given out by weight. They ate sego and thistle roots. Once in a while hunters brought meat to the settlers.
When they got to the gristmill, Neil watched carefully as the wheat was ground. When a handful of kernels spilled on the floor while it was being ground, he and Margaret sprang to gather it up. Margaret wrapped it in her handkerchief. That evening they would parch it on the top of the stove at home. No food could be wasted.
After that cold, hungry winter, spring finally came, and Neil’s family moved to Mill Creek, a few miles from Salt Lake City. They planted a small crop of wheat. When the grain came up, it looked so strong and good. How wonderful it would be to have plenty of flour next winter! But then the crickets came.
Crickets were everywhere. There seemed to be no end to them. They were big and black and ate everything in their paths. Everyone worked in the fields, trying to kill the insects. But it seemed useless. There were just so many crickets.
Finally a day of fasting and prayer was planned. Father and the other men went to Salt Lake to pray for help from Heavenly Father.
While Father was gone, Neil, Mother, and Margaret went into the fields again to fight the crickets. Neil was tired, and the thought of another hungry winter made him want to cry. As they worked, it suddenly became darker. Neil looked up and saw thousands of gulls in the sky. Mother threw up her hands in despair. “What the crickets won’t take, those birds will!” she exclaimed.
Mother sat down and cried. Neil cried too. He didn’t know what would become of his family.
Too tired to fight the bird invaders, Neil and his mother and sister watched the seagulls.
“Mother, look!” Neil shouted. “The gulls aren’t eating our wheat. They are eating the crickets!”
“I believe you are right!” Mother said.
Mother, Margaret, and Neil held hands and danced in a circle. They hugged and laughed. The gulls were saving their wheat!
Suddenly, Mother stopped dancing and dropped to her knees. “Come, children,” she said. “These gulls were sent by Heavenly Father to save His children. Let us give thanks to Him.”
The three of them prayed right there in the wheat field. Neil never forgot the miracle of the gulls.

Does it bother the youth to be left out of some parties? Melanie says, “I don’t want to go to parties where they will be drinking. It doesn’t bother me if they don’t ask me, because I don’t want to be there anyway. There was a party at school, but I didn’t show up because I found out the purpose of the party was to get drunk. The next day at school, they asked me why I didn’t come. I just said I didn’t want to.”

My father sat next to me in the cramped cab as I pulled a plow behind the tractor to create furrows that would guide the water evenly through the field. Corrugating takes a long time, and the lines have to be perfectly straight. Craning my neck to see out the back window, I could already see my line was curving.
I didn’t know what to do. If I corrected, the field would have a series of S lines. If I let the curve continue, it would slowly become more pronounced. The water would never make it across the field, and much of the crop would quickly wither and die.
Pointing my tractor at the correct angle, my father told me to line up two shapes on the horizon with the tractor’s hood. He told me to make sure the three points overlapped from my point of view. As long as I kept those three points lined up, the tractor moved in a straight line.
After three hot days in the field, I gazed out over my finished work. Rows of straight lines met my eyes. When the field was completely corrugated and sown, the water flowed evenly across it. The alfalfa seeds would grow tall, strong, and green.
Just like I needed to align three points to create straight lines, we need to align ourselves with those things that are right. As we do so, we will point ourselves in the direction of the Savior, and we will have access to living water.
Heather W., Utah, USA

Karine Dauriat, 12, of Poitiers, talks about life before and after November 1987. “That’s when our family was baptized,” she explains. “There’s a big difference in our home since we joined the Church.”
“That’s true,” says her sister Christelle, 15. “We’re nicer to each other. I think it’s because from the first time the missionaries came, we felt a feeling of joy. We started to understand why we’re here on earth and what we should be doing.”
“We have a common goal now,” says another sister, Sandrine, who is 17. “We want to keep the commandments so we can be an eternal family.”

As Sister Holland and I recently disembarked at a distant airport, three beautiful young women getting off the same flight hurried up to greet us. They identified themselves as members of the Church, which wasn’t too surprising because those not of our faith usually don’t rush up to us in airports. In a conversation we hadn’t expected, we soon learned through their tears that all three of these women were recently divorced, that in each case their husbands had been unfaithful to them, and in each case the seeds of alienation and transgression had begun with an attraction to pornography.
With that stark introduction to my message today—one it is challenging for me to give—I feel much like Jacob of old, who said, “It grieveth me that I must use so much boldness of speech … before … many … whose feelings are exceedingly tender and chaste and delicate.” But bold we need to be. Perhaps it was the father in me or maybe the grandfather, but the tears in those young women’s eyes brought tears to mine and Sister Holland’s, and the questions they asked left me asking, “Why is there so much moral decay around us, and why are so many individuals and families, including some in the Church, falling victim to it, being tragically scarred by it?”
But, of course, I knew at least part of the answer to my own question. Most days we all find ourselves assaulted by immoral messages of some kind flooding in on us from every angle. The darker sides of the movie, television, and music industry step further and further into offensive language and sexual misconduct. Tragically, the same computer and Internet service that allows me to do my family history and prepare those names for temple work could, without filters and controls, allow my children or grandchildren access to a global cesspool of perceptions that could blast a crater in their brains forever.
Remember that those young wives said their husbands’ infidelity began with an attraction to pornography, but immoral activity is not just a man’s problem, and husbands aren’t the only ones offending. The compromise available at the click of a mouse—including what can happen in a chat room’s virtual encounter—is no respecter of persons, male or female, young or old, married or single. And just to make sure that temptation is ever more accessible, the adversary is busy extending his coverage, as they say in the industry, to cell phones, video games, and MP3 players.
If we stop chopping at the branches of this problem and strike more directly at the root of the tree, not surprisingly we find lust lurking furtively there. Lust is an unsavory word, and it is certainly an unsavory topic for me to address, but there is good reason why in some traditions it is known as the most deadly of the seven deadly sins.
Why is lust such a deadly sin? Well, in addition to the completely Spirit-destroying impact it has upon our souls, I think it is a sin because it defiles the highest and holiest relationship God gives us in mortality—the love that a man and a woman have for each other and the desire that couple has to bring children into a family intended to be forever. Someone said once that true love must include the idea of permanence. True love endures. But lust changes as quickly as it can turn a pornographic page or glance at yet another potential object for gratification walking by, male or female. True love we are absolutely giddy about—as I am about Sister Holland; we shout it from the housetops. But lust is characterized by shame and stealth and is almost pathologically clandestine—the later and darker the hour the better, with a double-bolted door just in case. Love makes us instinctively reach out to God and other people. Lust, on the other hand, is anything but godly and celebrates self-indulgence. Love comes with open hands and open heart; lust comes with only an open appetite.
These are just some of the reasons that prostituting the true meaning of love—either with imagination or another person—is so destructive. It destroys that which is second only to our faith in God—namely, faith in those we love. It shakes the pillars of trust upon which present—or future—love is built, and it takes a long time to rebuild that trust when it is lost. Push that idea far enough—whether it be as personal as a family member or as public as elected officials, business leaders, media stars, and athletic heroes—and soon enough on the building once constructed to house morally responsible societies, we can hang a sign saying, “This property is vacant.”
Whether we be single or married, young or old, let’s talk for a moment about how to guard against temptation in whatever form it may present itself. We may not be able to cure all of society’s ills today, but let’s speak of what some personal actions can be.
Above all, start by separating yourself from people, materials, and circumstances that will harm you. As those battling something like alcoholism know, the pull of proximity can be fatal. So too in moral matters. Like Joseph in the presence of Potiphar’s wife, just run—run as far away as you can get from whatever or whoever it is that beguiles you. And please, when fleeing the scene of temptation, do not leave a forwarding address.
Acknowledge that people bound by the chains of true addictions often need more help than self-help, and that may include you. Seek that help and welcome it. Talk to your bishop. Follow his counsel. Ask for a priesthood blessing. Use the Church’s Family Services offerings or seek other suitable professional help. Pray without ceasing. Ask for angels to help you.
Along with filters on computers and a lock on affections, remember that the only real control in life is self-control. Exercise more control over even the marginal moments that confront you. If a TV show is indecent, turn it off. If a movie is crude, walk out. If an improper relationship is developing, sever it. Many of these influences, at least initially, may not technically be evil, but they can blunt our judgment, dull our spirituality, and lead to something that could be evil. An old proverb says that a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, so watch your step.
Like thieves in the night, unwelcome thoughts can and do seek entrance to our minds. But we don’t have to throw open the door, serve them tea and crumpets, and then tell them where the silverware is kept! (You shouldn’t be serving tea anyway.) Throw the rascals out! Replace lewd thoughts with hopeful images and joyful memories; picture the faces of those who love you and would be shattered if you let them down. More than one man has been saved from sin or stupidity by remembering the face of his mother, his wife, or his child waiting somewhere for him at home. Whatever thoughts you have, make sure they are welcome in your heart by invitation only. As an ancient poet once said, let will be your reason.
Cultivate and be where the Spirit of the Lord is. Make sure that includes your own home or apartment, dictating the kind of art, music, and literature you keep there. If you are endowed, go to the temple as often as your circumstances allow. Remember that the temple arms you “with [God’s] power, … [puts His] glory … round about [you], and [gives His] angels … charge over [you].” And when you leave the temple, remember the symbols you take with you, never to be set aside or forgotten.
Most people in trouble end up crying, “What was I thinking?” Well, whatever they were thinking, they weren’t thinking of Christ. Yet, as members of His Church, we pledge every Sunday of our lives to take upon ourselves His name and promise to “always remember him.” So let us work a little harder at remembering Him—especially that He has “borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows … , [that] he was bruised for our iniquities … ; and with his stripes we are healed.” Surely it would guide our actions in a dramatic way if we remembered that every time we transgress, we hurt not only those we love, but we also hurt Him, who so dearly loves us. But if we do sin, however serious that sin may be, we can be rescued by that same majestic figure, He who bears the only name given under heaven whereby any man or woman can be saved. When confronting our transgressions and our souls are harrowed up with true pain, may we all echo the repentant Alma and utter his life-changing cry: “O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me.”
Brothers and sisters, I love you. President Thomas S. Monson and the Brethren love you. Far more importantly, your Father in Heaven loves you. I have tried to speak today of love—real love, true love, respect for it, the proper portrayal of it in the wholesome societies mankind has known, the sanctity of it between a married man and woman, and the families that love ultimately creates. I’ve tried to speak of the redeeming manifestation of love, charity personified, which comes to us through the grace of Christ Himself. I have of necessity also spoken of el diablo, the diabolical one, the father of lies and lust, who will do anything he can to counterfeit true love, to profane and desecrate true love wherever and whenever he encounters it. And I have spoken of his desire to destroy us if he can.
When we face such temptations in our time, we must declare, as young Nephi did in his, “[I will] give place no more for the enemy of my soul.” We can reject the evil one. If we want it dearly and deeply enough, that enemy can and will be rebuked by the redeeming power of the Lord Jesus Christ. Furthermore, I promise you that the light of His everlasting gospel can and will again shine brightly where you feared life had gone hopelessly, helplessly dark. May the joy of our fidelity to the highest and best within us be ours as we keep our love and our marriages, our society and our souls, as pure as they were meant to be, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Some who profess to be followers of Christ insist that members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are not Christians. Indeed, there are those who make their living attacking our church and its doctrines. I wish all of them could have the experience I shared.
A friend who was making his first visit to Salt Lake City called on me in my office. He is a well-educated man and a devout and sincere Christian. Although we have not discussed this with each other, we both know that some leaders of his denomination have taught that members of our church are not Christians.
After a short discussion on a matter of common interest, I told my friend I had something I would like him to see. We walked over to Temple Square and into the North Visitors’ Center. We viewed the pictures of Bible and Book of Mormon Apostles and prophets. Then we turned our steps up the inclined walkway to the second level. Here Thorvaldsen’s great statue of the risen Christ dominates a setting suggestive of the immensity of space and the grandeur of the creations of God.
As we emerged and beheld this majestic likeness of the Christus, arms outstretched and hands showing the wounds of his Crucifixion, my friend drew a sharp breath. We stood quietly for a few minutes, enjoying a reverent communion of worshipful thoughts about our Savior. Then without further conversation, we made our way down to the street level. On the way we walked past the small diorama showing the Prophet Joseph Smith kneeling in the Sacred Grove.
As we left Temple Square and took our leave of one another, my friend took me by the hand. “Thank you for showing me that,” he said. “Now I understand something about your faith that I have never understood before.” I hope that every person who has ever had doubts about whether we are Christians can achieve that same understanding.

My boy graduated from high school at the age of 17 with plans to attend Brigham Young University-Idaho, 3,000 miles away from home before serving a full-time mission.
When he turned eighteen, he received his patriarchal blessing that mentioned the blessings that would come to him from serving a mission. Shortly after, my son shared with me that he had put in his mission papers. I cried. In part because I was proud that he had come to that decision on his own, but also because I was terrified. You see, Rayshawn was my only child and since my divorce, it was just the two of us.
Life intervened and some pretty trying things happened that tested my son’s faith. It is the hardest thing in the world to see one’s child struggle and not be able to do anything but encourage and pray unceasingly for them. My son turned eighteen, then 19, and by this time he was adamant that he would never serve a mission. He turned 20 and COVID hit. He came home from school because the isolation was doing things to his mental health.
By this time, he attended Church sporadically. He and I are the only members of the Church in our family, so I depended heavily on the temple prayer roll, personal and family prayer, and spending quality time together. We would sometimes read his patriarchal blessing together because I think the adversary works very hard at making the youth feel unworthy, unloved, unappreciated, worthless, and unable to do anything that presents a challenge or even anything that does not bring them instant gratification. We must help them see themselves as their Heavenly Father sees them and then living up to their potential will be much easier.
My little branch in the Caribbean is guided by a mission president and when a new president moved into our area he reached out and began counseling with my son via Zoom. By the time my son turned 22 years old he submitted his mission papers for the third time. Third time’s the charm, right? I should let you know that he taught himself Japanese because he really wanted to go to Japan.
Of course, our plans are not God’s plans, and he was called to the Trinidad Port of Spain Mission. He has been out on his mission for 10 months and he is zone leader. I have seen a mighty change in my son, and this young man who always thought the glass was half-empty is able to keep things positive even when confronted by someone with a knife in the streets while training a new missionary. He would later encourage other missionaries to always look for the positive perspective in similar situations.
As a mother, I still pray without ceasing over my baby boy, Elder Rayshawn N. Gibson, but I see that he has received His image in his countenance and the Light of Christ indeed shines in his eyes. Can a mother ask for anything more?

One day during my first mission, my companion, Elder Gordon Gallup, and I walked along a rural road late in the day when there was little traffic. It seemed no one wanted to give a ride to two tired elders. We knelt and asked the Lord to help us get a ride.
Almost immediately a pickup truck stopped. The driver, Sam Potaka, lived close to Taihape, our destination. When we reached his village, Utiku, he invited us to stay for dinner at his house. We held a wonderful missionary discussion with his family, and in due time Sam’s wife, mother-in-law, two married daughters, one married son, and their families gained testimonies and joined the Church. Later two other sons were also converted. The conversion of this wonderful family was a highlight of my mission.

In 2023, Tuipulotu Tupou, known by her friends as Lotu, discovered PathwayConnect through her younger sister, a recent graduate, who spoke highly of the program. Encouraged by the possibility of scholarships that could help with tuition costs, Lotu decided to enroll. “I was glad to hear about this opportunity and to join this program,” she said.
Despite her enthusiasm, PathwayConnect was still a challenge for Lotu, due mostly to a language barrier. “The biggest challenge was writing,” she said. “I was bored, and English is my second language, but I had the courage to keep trying—no matter what—to accomplish my goals.” Determined to succeed, Lotu persevered and improved her language skills.
Her efforts paid off as she excelled throughout PathwayConnect. “I was happy to get an A grade every semester,” she said. “It’s a blessing for me, and [because of] our Heavenly Father, I know that I’m not alone. He lifts me up and helps me overcome [challenges].”
For Lotu, it’s not just about personal achievement; she aims to empower herself through higher education and entrepreneurship. “I’m looking forward to continuing my degree in business management so that I will be self-employed, not relying on someone but establishing my own business and helping other people that need my help.” This ambition aligns with the teachings of President Russell M. Nelson, who emphasized in a 2013 talk that, “Education is the difference between wishing you could help other people and being able to help them.”
A young mother with a growing family, Lotu’s full understanding of these principles was evident as she journeyed through PathwayConnect, improving her academic skills, growing spiritually, and preparing to advance her education at Brigham Young University–Idaho. It has been a dream of hers since high school, to one day obtain a bachelor’s degree so she can be self-reliant and take better care of the people in her life.
For anyone who is considering PathwayConnect as an option for them, Lotu has this advice:
“My dear friends and family, join this program. It will help you achieve your goals successfully, offer many opportunities, and allow you to be educated and independent.”

Many times the most beautiful examples of obedience and service are given by ordinary people who live close to us. Sister Ana Rita de Jesus, an elderly widow, lived in Anápolis, Brazil. She could not read or write. The missionaries would go to her home every week to read the scriptures to her. She was loving and kind. Every Sunday she asked the missionaries to help her fill out a tithing slip. Sometimes her tithing and offerings were not more than a few cents, but she knew the law and wanted to obey it. After paying her tithing, she would walk into the room where the sacrament meeting was held in a rented house and would place a flower on the pulpit. In doing so, she served her brothers and sisters, bringing beauty to the place where we worshiped the Lord. That sister, in a very simple way, taught us obedience and service. She knew that obeying the commandments is the best preparation to serve.

My beloved and wonderful brothers and sisters, I seek an interest in your faith and prayers these few minutes that I stand before you. A few years ago, just before our departure for a mission to Belgium, our family went on a vacation. Upon arriving at a motel, our children were out of their clothes and into swimming suits before we could unload the car. As I passed the swimming pool, the sign struck me forcefully: “Do Not Leave Children Unattended.” Though I had read similar signs and ignored them many times before, I felt compelled to stay and watch my young children. (My wife wasn’t very happy; she was unloading the car.) In minutes, one of my daughters was in deep water, and deep trouble, and struggling for help. I dove into the pool, clothes and all, and with all the energy I had, I reached her just in time. I recognized that frantic yet unspoken call for help that day, and I will never forget it.

My family and I have been members of the Church since I was four years old, and it wasn’t until I was 17 that I discovered the New Era. I saw a few issues before that, but never sat down to read them. I had the mistaken impression that they weren’t very exciting. As seminary class president, I worked closely with my seminary teacher, Sister Reynolds, and found that she read the New Era from cover to cover every month. She was such a fantastic lady that knew there had to be something more to the New Era than I first thought, so I subscribed. I now read the New Era from cover to cover every month, and I enjoy it more than I can express! Thank you, Sister Reynolds, for helping me discover all the wonderful things in the New Era, and thank you, New Era, for being such an uplifting magazine!
Kim GardnerIndianapolis, Indiana

Troy Jackson, Jaren Hope, and Andrew Allan are bearers of the Aaronic Priesthood who were called by an inspired bishop to team teach a family history class in their ward. These young men are representative of so many of you in their eagerness to learn and desire to serve.
Troy stated, “I used to come to church and just sit there, but now I realize that I need to go home and do something. We can all do family history.”
Jaren reported that as he learned more about family history, he realized “that these were not just names but real people. I became more and more excited about taking the names to the temple.”
And Andrew commented, “I have taken to family history with a love and vigor I did not know I could muster. As I prepared each week to teach, I was often nudged by the Holy Spirit to act and try some of the methods taught in the lesson. Before, family history was a scary thing. But aided by the Spirit I was able to step up to my calling and help many people in our ward.”

God offers us counsel not just for our own safety, but for the safety of His other children, whom we should love. There are few comforts so sweet as to know that we have been an instrument in the hands of God in leading someone else to safety. That blessing generally requires the faith to follow counsel when it is hard to do. An example from Church history is that of Reddick Newton Allred. He was one of the rescue party sent out by Brigham Young to bring in the Willie and Martin Handcart Companies. When a terrible storm hit, Captain Grant, captain of the rescue party, decided to leave some of the wagons by the Sweetwater River as he pressed ahead to find the handcart companies. With the blizzards howling and the weather becoming life-threatening, two of the men left behind at the Sweetwater decided that it was foolish to stay. They thought that either the handcart companies had wintered over somewhere or had perished. They decided to return to the Salt Lake Valley and tried to persuade everyone else to do the same.
Reddick Allred refused to budge. Brigham had sent them out, and his priesthood leader had told him to wait there. The others took several wagons, all filled with needed supplies, and started back. Even more tragic, each wagon they met coming out from Salt Lake they turned back as well. They turned back 77 wagons, returning all the way to Little Mountain, where President Young learned what was happening and turned them around again. When the Willie Company was finally found, and had made that heartrending pull up and over Rocky Ridge, it was Reddick Allred and his wagons that waited for them. (See Rebecca Bartholomew and Leonard J. Arrington, Rescue of the 1856 Handcart Companies [1992], 29, 33–34.)

In this conference you will hear inspired counsel, for instance, to reach out to the new members of the Church. Those with the faith of Reddick Newton Allred will keep offering friendship even when it seems not to be needed or to have no effect. They will persist. When some new member reaches the point of spiritual exhaustion, they will be there offering kind words and fellowship. They will then feel the same divine approval Brother Allred felt when he saw those handcart pioneers struggling toward him, knowing he could offer them safety because he had followed counsel when it was hard to do.

While the record does not prove it, I am confident that Brother Allred prayed while he waited. I am confident that his prayers were answered. He then knew that the counsel to stand fast was from God. We must pray to know that. I promise you answers to such prayers of faith.

When he arrived at stake youth conference, Jade Meynders got out of the car, picked up his things, including his sleeping bag, and started walking down a dirt road cut through a thick forest. Those around him were dressed as if from a day long past—the girls in long dresses and bonnets, the boys in shirts with full sleeves and some in long-tailed coats, styles from 150 years ago.
As they walked, they noticed markers set up several yards apart with years painted on them. Each step took Jade back in time. “It really helped prepare my mind to comprehend and feel what was going to happen,” said Jade.
At the end of the road, the groups walked into a full-size replica of a pioneer town, complete with the Whitney store and the Grandin press, although those two businesses, significant in the history of the Church, were not originally in the same town. The Abbotsford British Columbia Stake was taking the youth back in time so they could witness several events from a variety of locations in Church history.
So when Jade and his friends entered the town, it really felt like they had stepped back in time to the 1830s.
The town was dressed with garlands and flowers. The teens, their leaders, and members of the stake who agreed to play the parts of prominent Church members in history gathered for a typical fair from pioneer times. The group played games, held competitions, and enjoyed entertainment. At the end of the day, the mayor gathered everyone together and organized them into families. Under the direction of their leaders, the “families” set up their camps in a nearby wood, which would be home for the next week.
“I finally understood what the early Saints lived through and how their testimonies were their only possessions that were certain,” said Alex Loewen. “It inspires me to keep a strong testimony and rely on the Lord like they did.”

Recently, I went on a trek with our quorum members to the infamous Gantam Dora Trek Path in the Kambalakonda Wildlife Sanctuary. The trek was three kilometers long. At the beginning, everything was smooth; I was ahead of everyone. But after climbing for only about five hundred meters, my heart rate spiked. I was feeling breathless, dizzy, and nauseous. I regretted having climbed this far and was seriously thinking about quitting.
But then, I remembered hearing about the breathtaking view—a panorama concealed from all who never put in the effort. After taking a few minutes to rest and hydrating my tongue with a few drops of water, I resumed the ascent with the help of my friend, Raj Bangaram. And there it was, after another kilometer of effort: a beautiful, stunning vista. Every struggle we endured seemed instantly worth it. We had a wonderful time trekking, and once I got down, I could not help but compare the incident with the trials we face in life.

My family moved to that little desert town in the middle of September—one of the hottest times of the year. But among the Mormon kids, all I got was the cold shoulder.
I was 15, and my family had already moved 10 times, so it wasn’t as if I didn’t know how to make friends. I tried everything I knew to break the ice, but after five months I still didn’t have a single friend who was a member of the Church.
Luckily, I had lots of good nonmember friends at school. But that didn’t make it any easier at early-morning seminary and church. I actually sat through five months of seminary without anyone saying hello to me, except my seminary teacher. And there was always one empty seat between me and the rest of my Sunday School class.
Tom Jeppson* was the ringleader of the Mormon kids. He’d never really said anything to me. In fact, I wasn’t even sure he’d noticed me until one morning when he met me at the seminary doors.
“Go home. We don’t want you here,” he said.
I started to laugh. He had to be joking, right? But when I looked at his face, I knew he wasn’t kidding. I looked at the others standing a few feet behind him. They didn’t say anything, which I figured meant that they agreed.
As I turned away, I heard the doors slam behind me and muffled laughing.
I’m never going to seminary again, I swore to myself as I walked the half-mile to the high school. It’ll be all their fault.
That day seemed like it would never end. After school, I rode the bus to my street, but I didn’t go home. I went to my seminary teacher’s house. He lived a few doors down from me, and I really liked him. In fact, I liked his whole family.
He usually gave me a ride to seminary each morning, so I wanted to tell him not to worry about picking me up anymore. Actually, what I really wanted was some sympathy.
Sister Murray answered the door. Brother Murray wasn’t home yet, but she invited me in for a drink of lemonade. It wasn’t long before I was telling her the whole story. She was sympathetic until I said I wasn’t going to seminary anymore and that I might not ever go to church again.
“If this was really the true church, people wouldn’t act like that,” I said.
I expected her to plead with me to come back. I wanted her to tell me she would talk to all the kids’ parents and get them in a lot of trouble. I thought she’d be ready to do almost anything to keep me active. But instead she said, “Well, fine. You’re not hurting any of those kids by not going. You’re only hurting yourself.”
I was too shocked to say anything. I quickly finished my lemonade and told her I had to go.
I stayed away from seminary and church for three weeks. My seminary teacher called a couple of times to check in on me. I missed seminary, but I was too proud to admit it. Instead, I kept telling myself that everyone was probably feeling pretty guilty that they’d made me become inactive. I told myself they would be in trouble on judgment day.
Still, I couldn’t forget what Sister Murray had said about me only hurting myself. And then, one day when I was reading the Book of Mormon, a scripture caught my eye.
“See that ye do all things in worthiness, and do it in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God; and if ye do this, and endure to the end, ye will in no wise be cast out” (Morm. 9:29).
As I read the words, the Spirit filled my heart and I realized Sister Murray was right. Sure, the kids had been real jerks. But they couldn’t keep me away from the Church if I was determined to be there. And best of all, they couldn’t cast me out in the end, when it really mattered. Not if I endured.
I got out of bed and set my alarm for 5:00 A.M. so I wouldn’t miss seminary the next day.
We lived in that hot, windy desert town for five more months and nothing really changed—except my heart. For the first time, I understood that no one was responsible for my salvation but me. I didn’t miss another day of seminary or church. And although the Mormon kids were still cold, it didn’t matter. I was filled with the warmth of the gospel.

I trust in God. I know He lives and hears my prayers. In order to know these truths, I immersed myself in the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
After I was baptized I felt the fiery darts of the enemy confuse me and cause me to put off attending seminary. A few days later I began reading the Book of Mormon with a prayer to our Father in Heaven. I felt a beautiful response in my heart that motivated me to attend seminary and apply each class to my life.
Now I understand that when I was baptized into the Church I gained many blessings. I feel very happy to have my testimony as a constant source of strength each day of my life.
María Marcela Vargas Del Águila,Santa Anita Ward, Lima Perú Santa Anita Stake

I remember the first winter after I received my driver’s license. I was driving down Parley’s Canyon in a blinding snowstorm and couldn’t see the road. All of a sudden I found myself off the side of the road into a snowdrift and had to abandon the car for the evening. The next morning, who was by my side with patience and understanding as a friend would be, helping me shovel the car out of the snowdrift? My mother.

In the October 2018 general conference, the Yigo Guam Temple was announced. Franchesca says, “The youth were so excited—we all prayed for it.” After that, she eagerly watched the construction and waited for their very own temple, which was completed in May 2022.
They’ve always had to travel to the Philippines for temple trips in the past. To pay for the trips, they would raise money with bake sales and car washes. Because it’s a big trip, they would plan it to last about a week. Franchesca is excited to be able to go to the temple more often and have the blessings that come from being baptized for her ancestors.