Gospel Story Finder

Carmen was born into a religious family in Guatemala City, Guatemala. When she was nine years old, Latter-day Saint sister missionaries taught her family the gospel. She enjoyed attending Primary and spoke of a new feeling of happiness in her family. A year later the family was baptized. She says, “This was a wonderful, wonderful time.” She recalls President David O. McKay (1873–1970) visiting Guatemala in 1954 and teaching the children the principle of tithing. At age 17 she was called to serve in the Central American Mission and was grateful to share “the hope of a better life and being together forever.”

I hate how nervous I get at piano recitals. I practiced hard, but …
Cassie’s a lot younger than I am, but she’s so much better. And I’m next after her. Yikes!
Later, at home.
I guess I did OK. But I’ll never be as good as Cassie. Maybe my lessons are just a waste of money.
Cassie does have a special gift. Someday she might be better than your teacher. But—
Not everything is a competition. I know you like making music. And we enjoy it too. When you were playing, your dad’s head was back and his eyes were closed.
Yeah, he does that in church sometimes too.
Well, he was smiling. And tapping his fingers. He was enjoying it, and so was I.
Just do your best, and you’ll enjoy your gift too.

When I was young, I had an experience that helped me relate to the blind man described in John 9. The man was blind from birth. The disciples asked Jesus, “Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?
“Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him” (John 9:2–3; emphasis added).
Jesus anointed the blind man’s eyes with clay and instructed him to wash in the pool of Siloam. The man did as instructed and “came seeing” (John 9:7).
There were witnesses to this miracle who could not comprehend it. They took the man to the Pharisees, who questioned him about it repeatedly. The man finally told the Pharisees, “If this man were not of God, he could do nothing” (John 9:33). For this statement, he was cast out.
Then a great blessing occurred—an even greater blessing than having his sight restored. Jesus, having heard that they had cast the man out, found him and allowed him to declare his belief: “He said, Lord, I believe. And he worshipped him” (John 9:38).
I was 11 years old when the “works of God were made manifest” in me. In the fifth grade, I developed warts on my hands. Both hands were covered with the ugly virus sufficiently enough to earn me the nickname “warthog” among my classmates. Needless to say, it affected my self-esteem and social life.
When my family moved from Utah to Idaho the following summer, I dreaded the thought of going to a new school. In my old class, I took plenty of teasing, but I also had two good friends who stood by me. This new place offered no such assurance.
I began to search for ways to rid myself of my burden. With my mother’s help, we tried over-the-counter remedies and even some home remedies, but the warts remained. Money was limited, so seeing the doctor for such a nonemergency was out of the question. I began feeling like there would be no end to this malady.
Towards the end of summer, it occurred to me to ask Heavenly Father for help. My family had been active in the Church for about two years, and I had been taught about the power of fasting accompanied by prayer, but I had never before taken the opportunity to do this.
Over two weeks I fasted every few days. I remember how hard it was to pass up my mom’s homemade cherry pie, but I believed the outcome of my fast would be equal to my faith and sacrifice. I prayed earnestly in our backyard, where I could speak aloud and not be interrupted. At the end of the two-week period, my warts were gone. Every one of them had shrunk away.
When school started a couple of weeks later, I felt a new confidence. This confidence came, in part, from having healed hands that I did not have to hide, but more so from an internal seed that had sprouted to life.
I had gained personal knowledge of a great truth—that I was a daughter of Heavenly Father, the true and living God. I knew that He loved me and that He heard and answered my prayers. Just as the man in the scriptures, the works of God had been made manifest in me, on a physical and a spiritual level.
A few years later, when I was a senior in high school, my philosophy teacher asked each of us to justify our belief in God. He asked us to “prove” God’s existence. I shared this experience with my class and testified not only of God’s existence but of His love for us. After the bell rang, my teacher pulled me aside and asked me to consider that perhaps it was the power of positive thinking, rather than God, that had caused my warts to disappear. I did not hesitate in my response to him that I knew of a surety the source of this miracle.
Perhaps someday I too will be allowed the blessing of kneeling before my Healer and proclaiming, “Lord, I believe.”

1852–1924
“Our religion teaches us that the wife stands shoulder to shoulder with the husband.”
When people said false things about women in the Church, she spoke up for her beliefs.
Her example helped inspire Church leaders to call women as full-time missionaries.
She moved from England to New York, USA, and taught family history classes.
She served a mission with her husband and children in Peru.
As quoted by Susa Young Gates in the Young Women’s Journal, vol. 9, no. 8 (1898), 343.
1828–1905
“Nothing other than pure devotion to [my] faith has brought me here.”
He was a M?ori chief in New Zealand.
When missionaries came to their country, he and his wife, Mere, joined the Church.
He went to Utah to do temple work for his people.
He went back to New Zealand as a missionary. He did family history work there and taught the gospel.
As quoted in the Salt Lake Tribune, July 20, 1894, 8.

I read the Book of Mormon and the Bible with new eyes and a new heart. One morning I came across a passage that once again penetrated my defences.
“But I say unto you, O man, whosoever [suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to him in vain] the same hath great cause to repent; and except he repenteth of that which he hath done he perisheth forever, and hath no interest in the kingdom of God.” (Mosiah 4:16-18)
This spoke to the fact that I was ignoring a beggar who lived on the street on the way to college. I would cross the road to avoid her petition. I told myself it was her fault she was in that position. Suddenly I was convicted as having “no interest in the kingdom of God.” I was determined to change.
A couple of days later, I was confronted in the street by a rough-looking man who asked me for £2.68 - the cost, apparently, of the local night shelter. For a moment, I felt hard-hearted, but then remembered my resolve – I gave him the money, and continued.
Almost immediately, my being was overtaken by a warmth that spread from the centre out through my arms and legs. Again, it was real and profound. I understood from the missionaries that this experience was a confirmation from the Holy Spirit. But of what, exactly? I felt that it was not a reward for being charitable, but a witness that I had read the word of God (in the Book of Mormon) and applied it in my life. I had repented, and that was pleasing to Him.

Eliza learned as a child to respect the Bible. She attended a Baptist Sunday School, where she often memorized chapters from the New Testament. She remembered, “My heart yearned for the gifts and manifestations of which those ancient Apostles testified.” She desired to “see, and listen to a true Prophet of God, through whom He communicated His will to the children of men.” But her teachers taught her that those days and blessings had passed.2

Oliver and Rosetta Snow, Eliza’s parents, taught their children to listen to people with different religious beliefs and choose for themselves. Eliza soon realized that with so many diverse religious practices, she searched for something firmly founded in Bible teachings. In the fall of 1830, when Eliza was 26, the Snows heard about Joseph Smith, “a Prophet to whom the Lord was speaking from the heavens”—the very model that she had been looking for since her childhood. As much as she wanted the news to be legitimate, she wrote, “I considered it a hoax—too good to be true.” Eliza continued to study the ancient prophets in order to learn their patterns.3

In the winter of 1831–32, Joseph Smith came to the Snow home. As he sat by the fire, Eliza “scrutinized his face as closely as I could without attracting his attention, and decided that his was an honest face.” Even so, her investigative nature led her to observe what happened over time. She attended a local meeting where Joseph and two Book of Mormon witnesses spoke, and she was deeply impressed. Her mother and sister, Rosetta and Leonora, believed and were baptized that spring.4 Still Eliza waited, studying the Book of Mormon, watching and listening.

In the spring of 1835, Rosetta and Leonora went to Kirtland, Ohio, where other Latter-day Saints lived. They returned with stories about the Church, the priesthood, and great spiritual manifestations. Five years had passed since the time Eliza first heard about Joseph Smith. The accounts of her mother and sister brought Eliza an undeniable witness of the truth. She had waited until she knew it was true. “My heart was now fixed,” she wrote. She decided to be baptized.5

Even then, baptism was a challenge for Eliza, a humble woman who followed social rules and propriety. She prayed for someone to come baptize her, but no one came. When she heard of a meeting of the Saints about two miles from home, she asked her father’s permission to go and be baptized—as an adult, she respected her father, and he readily consented. At the meeting, there was no discussion about baptism, but Eliza gained courage to stand up and request the privilege. Before she could arise, a dark fear came over her. She pushed through the fear and was baptized in a nearby stream on April 5, 1835. “From that day to this I have not doubted the truth of the work,” she wrote.

That night, Eliza reflected on her baptism: “I felt an indescribable, tangible sensation, … commencing at my head and enveloping my person and passing off at my feet, producing inexpressible happiness.” She saw in a vision a candle with a long, bright flame, and a voice told her, “The lamp of intelligence shall be lighted over your path.” She was satisfied.6

Eliza moved to Kirtland to join the Saints for a time and taught school. When she returned to her family’s home at the end of the term, her old friends and neighbors asked about the “strange people” with whom she associated. “I was exceedingly happy in testifying of what I had both seen and heard,” she later wrote. Eliza determined to change her life and live permanently with the Latter-day Saints. Her conversion deepened even further in 1837 when she lived with Joseph Smith and his family. Again, she observed. “I had ample opportunity of judging his daily walk and conversation,” she recalled. She saw much more than the miraculous events of the Kirtland Temple dedication—she saw the life and relationships of a prophet of God. “The more I made his acquaintance, the more cause I found to appreciate him in his divine calling.”7

Thirty-seven years after her baptism, with a heart firmly fixed through persecutions in Missouri and the eventual assassination of Joseph Smith, Eliza remained a committed Latter-day Saint. On June 22, 1872, she shared about her conversion with a group of women in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA: “When I heard it announced that the Lord had spoken from heaven and a record had been brought forth I was deeply interested. I prayed unto the Lord to let me know if the work were true, covenanting with him if he did so that I would ever praise his name.” After her baptism, she said, she attended Church meetings. “We were called upon to speak; I dared not refuse for I had promised God I would ever praise his name in the congregation of the Saints.”8 Her continual conversion required her continued witness.

Eliza bore her testimony over a thousand times as she traveled throughout Utah Territory to teach the Relief Society, young women, and Primary children about the Restoration. Her heart was fixed, and she invited others to experience their own conversions and become firm and steadfast.

Q: The psychology of the other player intrigues me. Do you study them and then change your style for different players?
Freed: Oh, yes. You always want to find your opponent’s weaknesses and play to them. I’ll admit that there’s a certain amount of gamesmanship in tennis. For instance, once I was playing a champion, a fine player. I knew only one thing about him: he was a stereotype player who never varied his style. So when he was serving to me, I would move around and leave a great big hole on my forehand or my backhand. Then just as he’d start to wind up, I’d jump over and close the hole. He didn’t like that; it got on his nerves and hurt his game, and I beat him. I think I beat him because I was a little more flexible. This is just part of tennis. If I play with an opponent who has a weak backhand, I hit everything I can to his backhand.

Before leaving his hometown of Mystowice to serve as a missionary, Elder Tomaszewski left a challenge for his younger brother Patryk, who was also deeply involved in jujitsu. “If you want to find out why I’m doing this, why I’m giving up my sport, read the Book of Mormon and pray about it.”
And what has been his best day as a missionary?
The day he learned that his younger brother had taken his challenge to read and pray about the Book of Mormon. Patryk Tomaszewski also received a testimony. He was baptized in August 2004.
Now there are two Tomaszewskis to share the joy of the gospel.

When Fausto Torales of Paraguay received word that his brother was sick, he decided to visit him—even though it would require a long journey and much sacrifice. Without realizing it, Fausto was embarking on a journey that would require many more sacrifices and would forever change his life and the lives of his family.
There is no public transportation into Natalio Diez, the nearest town. So Fausto left his wife and children at their small farm and walked for over an hour to get there. Next he caught a bus and rode two more hours to the city of Encarnación, where he visited his ill brother. That night in a boardinghouse, he learned for the first time about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from two young men who lived there.
“We had studied various other religions and didn’t like them,” says his wife, Felicita Torales. “But my husband realized that this was very different from what he had heard before. He told the two young men that he would return in three months with all his family to be baptized.”
Filled with the spirit of the message he had heard, Fausto went back to his farm and shared the gospel with his family. Three months later, just as he had promised, Fausto, Felicita, and their children made the journey to Encarnación and went straight to the boardinghouse, ready for baptism. The missionaries taught them the discussions that day and gave them the Book of Mormon and Gospel Principles. The following day—12 May 1981—the parents and their five children who were old enough were baptized. Then they journeyed home and started studying the gospel.

I was told once of a young man who for many years was more or less the brunt of every joke in his school. He had some disadvantages, and it was easy for his peers to tease him. Later in his life he moved away. He eventually joined the army and had some successful experiences there in getting an education and generally stepping away from his past. Above all, as many in the military do, he discovered the beauty and majesty of the Church and became active and happy in it.

Then, after several years, he returned to the town of his youth. Most of his generation had moved on but not all. Apparently, when he returned quite successful and quite reborn, the same old mind-set that had existed before was still there, waiting for his return. To the people in his hometown, he was still just old “so-and-so”?—you remember the guy who had the problem, the idiosyncrasy, the quirky nature, and did such and such. And wasn’t it all just hilarious?

Little by little this man’s Pauline effort to leave that which was behind and grasp the prize that God had laid before him was gradually diminished until he died about the way he had lived in his youth. He came full circle: again inactive and unhappy and the brunt of a new generation of jokes. Yet he had had that one bright, beautiful midlife moment when he had been able to rise above his past and truly see who he was and what he could become. Too bad, too sad that he was again to be surrounded by a whole batch of Lot’s wives, those who thought his past was more interesting than his future. They managed to rip out of his grasp that for which Christ had grasped him. And he died sad, though through little fault of his own.

“I’m sorry, but no one is allowed in the garden area.” The tall Franciscan monk spoke with a firm voice in answer to my request to photograph inside the Garden of Gethsemane. Determined to return another day and try again, I walked down the gradual slope of the Mount of Olives and crossed the top end of Kidron Valley on the way to the old city of Jerusalem.
A paved highway runs down this upper end of the valley; it rises and winds around the base of the Mount of Olives on its way to Jericho. Gethsemane sits to one side of the road, next to the hustle of buses and taxis and donkeys braying with heavy loads of goods on the way to markets of the Old City.
Mount of Olives hillside
Gethsemane is just a simple grove of trees in a garden on the side of a rocky hill. It is a quiet place, except for the occasional tourist groups and hawking peddlers, and the nearby traffic.
Yet, in this grove of ancient trees one of the most important events in the history of mankind took place. In this little garden the Savior agonized as he suffered for the sins of all the world. He made it possible for us to return to the presence of God. That means that if we repent and live in sweet obedience to the Father’s will, we will not be required to pay the awful debt for the sins we have committed; Jesus did that in Gethsemane.
An olive tree in the Garden of Gethsemane
Leaving Gethsemane, you can easily see old Jerusalem above terraced hillsides. Next to the wall of the city, Arab shepherd boys often bring their sheep and goats to graze in the grass around the Moslem gravestones. Seeing the sheep silhouetted against the sky, it is easy to imagine what it was like here during the Savior’s lifetime.
Jerusalem seen from the Mount of Olives
Further up the hill, the road branches to one side, going up to Saint Stephen’s Gate and the base of the ancient temple mount. Here you can look back at Gethsemane from above. On this particular afternoon, the garden lay half in shadow with the sun glistening in several light-filled corners. A few Arab buses careened noisily around the serpentine curves of the highway below, but the air seemed somehow quiet. There in the stillness of my thoughts, I wondered about the little procession of disciples meandering across the valley toward Gethsemane, the Savior leading them in calm dignity as he approached the terrors of that incredible night.
Darkness falls swiftly in Jerusalem, and soon the blackness of the night was all around me. There was a slight chill in the evening air as I hurried home.
St. Stephen’s Gate in the wall of Jerusalem
Several days later I arrived after closing time, and the great iron doors to the garden were shut and locked. After much persistent bell ringing, a monk came to the gate and kindly allowed me to enter the empty courtyard. We talked for a minute, and then he surprised me with, “Would you like to go into the garden area?” Taking a handforged key from his belt, he opened the small iron gate that led into the garden.
I wandered along the flower-lined gravel paths, next to the great patriarch olive trees. The color of the red flowers reminded me of the blood that came from every pore of the Savior’s body as he suffered here. The old gnarled and pitted trunks of the olive trees spoke of the struggle and pain of spirit that Jesus felt in this garden. Pondering these things, I didn’t notice the darkness gathering around the garden.
A path in the Garden of Gethsemane
Reverently and privately knelt for a moment, there in Gethsemane, to thank God for the blessing of his Son. The trees were dark and gray as I left them. But looking up toward the city I could see one of its radiant sunsets. Jerusalem, the “City of Gold,” the hope of ages past, present, and future because of the atonement that took place here.

But like many new converts, Teahumanu saw the gospel light he had received dim as worldly pressures overshadowed his initial commitment. In 1957, after Brother Manoï brought his family to Nouméa to look for work, he started to smoke and drink. Térotí would have none of it and returned to her parents in Tahiti. Teahumanu followed her—with some trepidation. When they were married, Térotí’s father had told him, “I’m giving her to you as a trust. If she ever comes back to me, watch out!” Teahumanu asked both Térotí and her father for forgiveness and promised to give up his bad habits forever. He has kept that promise.

“Buenos Dias, clase!”
It’s 6:00 A.M. on a rainy Wednesday morning, and seminary in the Dominican Republic is in session. You know from the very beginning that there is something special about this seminary class. Even though the hour is early, it’s pitch black outside, and a warm rain is pouring down, the students are alert and eager to learn.
Everyone is fully dressed and ready for school, some in uniforms, others in shirts and skirts or jeans. Some class members, including the teacher, had to walk over Santo Domingo’s muddy, rocky roads for half an hour to get here in time. No one comes in cars.
A long, very sincere opening prayer is given, in Spanish of course, because that’s the national language. The class sings “Te damos Señor Nuestras Gracias” (“We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet”), and the lesson begins. There are no fancy visual aids, no jokes, films, or cassette tapes. There is only a manual, the scriptures, and the Spirit. That’s enough.
Suddenly, a large clap of thunder is heard, and the lights go out. This is not an unusual event in Santo Domingo, the capital city of the Dominican Republic. You might expect havoc to break loose, with people making ghost calls and paper wads flying through the air, but no such thing occurs. A member of the class is dispatched to get a candle from the kitchen, and the lesson continues on, almost uninterrupted. An animated discussion of the scriptures is taking place, and you can hear the students reading the verses loud and clear.
But wait a minute. It’s pitch black in the room. You can’t even see your hand in front of your face. There’s no way they can see their books. They aren’t reading at all. They’ve got the scriptures for the lesson memorized, and they’re reciting them. They memorize about ten scriptures a day.
This kind of diligence and devotion marks the LDS youth of the Dominican Republic. Church for them is more than a Sunday thing. Seminary for them is more than a morning thing. The gospel is the driving force in their lives, and they go to incredible lengths for it.
One teenager, for example, longed to go to seminary, but her parents thought it would be a bother, so they told her she had to do all her chores before she left. They then proceeded to give her an incredibly long list of jobs to do. Much to their surprise, she began rising at 4 A.M. to complete everything before seminary started.
And they’ll tell you it’s well worth the time and effort. “We love the Church,” says Wally Ventura, of the Orzama Ward. “We’re so very grateful for it, and we can never do enough.”
They don’t think they ever do. When school is out in the afternoon, many of the youth in the ward gather at the local church to practice hymns, play volleyball or basketball, or study. In the evenings after dinner, they team up with the missionaries, attend Mutual activities or help put on “Noches de Amistad,” or “Friendship Nights.” That’s a program sponsored by ward members for investigators. They usually combine films, talks, testimonies, games, and refreshments, so the investigators can get a feel for the ambiance at church. Often it’s left to the youth to plan the whole activity.
Most of the teens live within walking distance of their chapels, although sometimes it’s a very long walk. The chapels in the Dominican Republic are new and clean—members are proud to take care of them. Some of the buildings may be small, but they have room for additions, and more are springing up all over. Although the Church was organized in the country about eight years ago, there are now more than 11,000 members there, and a month with over 300 baptisms in the country is not uncommon.
So where and what exactly is this place where missionary work is burgeoning and the youth are so strong? The Dominican Republic shares the island of Hispaniola with the country of Haiti. It’s a tropical island in the West Indies, about 575 miles southeast of Miami, Florida.
The temperature hardly ever goes above 90 degrees or below 60, so it’s almost always pleasant outside, even when it’s raining, if you have an umbrella. Because of the mild weather, you’ll find people outdoors in the street constantly. There are vendors selling brightly colored vegetables in an outdoor market here, a barber working on a customer seated on a stool on the sidewalk there. The chapels in the Dominican Republic don’t need gyms, because you can almost always play outside in the parking lot, which becomes a basketball or volleyball court.
The Dominicans themselves are very friendly. “The people in this country are very helpful,” says Sandra Calderon, another seminary student in the Orzama Ward. “When people are in need, we do whatever we can.” Neighborhoods are quite close, socially and physically. Many houses are made of concrete and painted with bright, friendly colors. They’re built with open spaces to let cooling breezes, neighbors, and relatives in.
This feature does wonders for the missionary work. When the missionaries begin tracting a neighborhood, everyone knows about it. Neighbors become curious when one family begins taking the discussions. One teen says she became interested in the Church after passing by her neighbors’ window a number of times and seeing them study the Book of Mormon. She just had to find out what they were reading.
The closeness of the neighborhood sometimes helps start rumors about the Church, but it can also help squelch them. “When the missionaries first show up in a neighborhood, the people usually think they’re spies from the CIA,” says Esperanza de la Cruz, seminary president in the Mendoza Branch. “Or they think that it’s a North American church. But if we have the opportunity to explain the gospel to them, they realize that it’s for everybody.”
Dominican teens are getting more opportunities to talk about the Church every day. Because LDS membership is rising so fast (in some high schools there are up to 30 members), teachers are taking notice and asking “los Mormones” questions about their religion in class. They aren’t always nice questions, and they aren’t always easy, but with prayer and inspiration, the youth are able to field the inquiries. Because of this, some of their classmates approach them after school with further questions.
Most Dominicans are rather open and easygoing, and they’re justly proud of their illustrious heritage too. Christopher Columbus landed on their island on one of his journeys to the New World, and he eventually built a large house there. Santo Domingo, the capital city, is the oldest city in the New World, and the country boasts the New World’s first university.
When the Spaniards first settled in the area, many of the native Indians died out, but those who survived passed on their Lamanite heritage to some Dominicans today. The French ruled the island for a time, mostly from Haiti, and brought slaves over to work their plantations. It is a mixture of Spanish, Indian, French, and African blood that marks the Dominican culture.
A wonderful by-product of that mixture is the graceful yet lively national dance called the “merengue.” When you talk about the merengue with youth in any seminary in the Dominican Republic, their eyes will light up and their feet will start to move. Someone will invariably start singing, others will join in, and soon the whole room will be swaying with the Caribbean beat. It’s not a dance that has to be danced with partners, but it’s one you’ll see at a lot of Church activities. The merengue comes as natural to most Dominicans as laughter.
Interestingly enough, though, it’s the merengue music and dance that present the Dominican teens with a real challenge. It seems all the best merengue bands have concerts on Sundays, and it’s not easy for the teens to miss out, but they do it willingly. And while they often listen to merengue music most days of the week, their radios sit silent on Sundays.
Just as the merengue seems exotic to many teens outside the Dominican Republic, the food they eat there probably seems exotic as well. The Dominican Republic is basically an agricultural nation, and they grow some fruits most people have never heard of, let alone tasted. The fruits have intriguing names like zapote, guanabana, lechosa, chinola, and granadillo. The banana (about three different varieties) is a staple in the Dominican diet. But it’s “salcocho,” a soup with vegetables, rice, beans, meat, a type of banana, and a variety of spices that the youth say is the most typical food they eat—and the best.
Even though the food and the dancing might seem unique to the Dominican Republic, there are some things the youth there share with LDS teens all over the world. Wherever you go, you’ll find they have certain dreams in common. Missions, temple marriage, and eternal families are on every LDS teenager’s mind. “I want to go on a mission,” says Johnny Ubiera, 17, of the Mendoza Branch. He spends a lot of time preparing for it by going to seminary, reading the scriptures, and going out teaching with the missionaries. Nearly half of the missionary force in his country is native Dominican, and that percentage is still growing.
After their missions, Johnny’s classmates will tell you, “I want to be a lawyer … a doctor … an anthropologist … a stewardess … an interior decorator.” Some, like Yulie Ramirez, an 18-year-old from Santiago, are already making their career dreams come true. Yulie hadn’t quite finished high school when she saw an ad that reporters were needed for the local television station. She applied, and a few screen tests later Yulie was hired. You can now watch her on Channel Seven, doing on-the-spot reports when she’s not in school.
Yulie’s story is unique for another reason. The very first time she ever attended the LDS chapel in her neighborhood, she knew the Church was true, and she bore her testimony. She went home and told her family about the feeling she had there, and soon they were all taking the discussions, going to church, holding family home evening, and finally, being baptized.
Each Dominican youth has a cherished conversion story to tell. “I was invited to a church activity with some friends,” says Pedro Rodriguez, “and was really impressed. I began reading the scriptures on my own, and I knew I wanted to be a missionary and share what those books contained with everyone else. I was baptized soon after that, and I’m waiting my year before I can serve. I never knew I could feel so much.”
“I thought the church I used to belong to was the only church around,” says David Falentino Benod. “But I wasn’t really satisfied with it. At school, when the rest of the class went to chapel, I used to hide in the bathroom. I’d seen the missionaries in the streets before, and one day my father invited them in to teach us. On Sunday we went to church and then to a baptism, and we felt wonderful. We set a date right there for the baptism of our family of nine.
Of course, joining the Church is not always an easy step. Many times it means leaving old friends behind, and often parents and brothers and sisters don’t understand. “The hardest thing to do,” says Llissel Ventura, “is to explain to our friends why we follow the Word of Wisdom. Many here smoke and drink and take drugs. They often tease us. But I just drink my jugo de china (orange juice), and I’m fine.”
Luis Espinal has found an interesting solution to this kind of peer pressure. “I know people who have vices and they would really like to get over them, but they don’t think they have anyone to help them. I try to be a good friend to them, and I bring them all to church. Some leave, but some continue coming, and some become members.”
All over the Dominican Republic you’ll find teens with this longing to reach out to others. In fact, when asked what they wanted the rest of the world’s youth to know about them, the Dominican teens replied:
“Tell them we love them. We want to meet them someday. We may not be very elegant, but we’re very nice and always happy.”
“Tell them we’re all a team.”
“Tell them we think it’s “bien chevere” (really cool) to be members of this church.”
“Tell them that the Church is very important in our lives. We may be different from them in some ways, but we all have the same goals and dreams.”
“Tell them we know the Church is true and that God loves us all. Christ did a very marvelous thing for us—he paid for our sins. He has given us light, and we’re trying to let our lights shine so those around us can see too.”
The light of the gospel. That’s it. That’s what enables the Dominican seminary students to “see” even when the electricity goes out. That’s what enables them to recognize the truth when it comes knocking on their doors. That’s what makes them so eager to serve missions and help their friends. It’s the light of the gospel that fuels their fires and helps them forge a republic of faith.

I witnessed the righteousness and power of God in great glory, received through faithfulness to covenants and ordinances, in the life of a Church member who experienced the heartache of divorce. This sister’s spiritual and emotional distress was heightened by a sense of unfairness associated with her spouse’s violation of covenants and the breakup of their marriage. She wanted justice and accountability.

As this faithful woman was struggling with all that had happened to her, she studied and pondered the Savior’s Atonement more intently and intensely than ever before in her life. Gradually, a deeper understanding of Christ’s redemptive mission distilled upon her soul—His suffering for our sins and also for our pains, weaknesses, disappointments, and anguish. And she was inspired to ask herself a penetrating question: since the price already has been paid for those sins, would you demand that the price be paid twice? She realized that such a requirement would be neither just nor merciful.

This woman learned that binding herself to the Savior through covenants and ordinances can heal the wounds caused by another person’s unrighteous exercise of moral agency and enabled her to find the capacity to forgive and receive peace, mercy, and love.

I was baptized in February 1991, and soon after I received the January 1991 issue of Der Stern (German), in which I read an article concerning baptism for the dead. I decided that I would have my mother baptized as soon as I could go to the temple. After that, my mother appeared to me by my bed and told me that she would accept her baptism.
I am eternally grateful to my Heavenly Father because I owe this wonderful experience to him and to Der Stern, which brought this message to me.
Erika GiesenGluckstadt Ward, Neumunster Germany Stake

Thinking about her attitude, I remembered a lesson I learned many years ago when my father died. He died suddenly, leaving my mother a widow with fifteen children, ten of whom were dependent on her. This was a great tragedy in her life. Of course, the gospel, the fellowship of the Church, and our own testimonies gave us a solid base which comforted us and helped us to accept this loss with dignity. In spite of the fact that we never left her alone, it affected her deeply. Although she accepted the will of God, her soul did not find inner peace.
One morning as we were traveling downtown on a bus, she began to feel her loneliness. I noticed it, but also knew that I couldn’t give her the comfort she needed. She cried in silence, but with dignity. A lady passenger came up and said: “You seem to be very sad.” My mother answered, “I have just lost my husband.” Then the lady asked, “Do you have children?” and my mother answered, “I have fifteen children, and each one of them has some trait that reminds me of their father. So I am constantly reminded of him.”
When she heard this, the woman said: “You are truly blessed, because you only lost your husband. I lost my husband, too, and my two daughters in an automobile accident, and I am living alone. So I do understand your pain and sorrow.” Then she added, “Only God can help us overcome trials like this.”
Those who suffer great adversity and sorrow and go on to serve their fellowmen develop a great capacity to understand others. Like the prophets, they have acquired a higher understanding of the mind and will of Christ. To me, this woman was like an angel. She gave comfort and raised my mother’s thoughts toward God in a time of great trial. From that day on, each time my mother felt lonely or abandoned, she would say to me: “Son, pity the woman who lost all. I am grateful that the Lord has blessed me with fifteen children to be my companions in life.”

Sean Kimball loves to surf. So, naturally, he tried out for his high school surfing team. On the team he was expected to practice before school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, even though that meant missing early-morning seminary. After a while, however, Sean noticed that things just didn’t go as well for him on those days.
When did you realize that seminary was more important to you than the surf team? I had been torn between surf team and seminary, but I knew then that I needed to give up the surf team so I could go to seminary every day. I talked to the coach. He knows my family, and he understood. My friends told me I was letting the team down, but once I’d made up my mind, nothing stopped me. But a cool thing happened when school started this year. My surf coach called and asked if I’d be willing to compete in the Thursday-morning surfing contests as long as he places me in the heats that are scheduled after seminary. He respects that I’m going to seminary, but he really wants me on the team, so he’s going to make sure I can do both.

Vasily is a child who spends much of his time in the streets and is not supported by his parents in his search for truth. He found a small branch of the Church in his town, and he came to every event held at the church. He also brought his three younger brothers to church, and other friends joined him in Primary. In fact, at one time, the largest Primary in that area was made up of these little boys who are not members of the Church. They were drawn to the truth, and the light of the gospel began to be reflected in their faces. They were welcomed, protected, taught, and loved by all the members of that little branch, including youth, young adults, missionaries, teachers, and priesthood leaders. Think of the children in your neighborhood or Primary class. Who are the children in your branch or ward? Is there one, like Vasily, who needs you?

I hadn’t prayed for years, but I finally had to go to my knees. I was afraid to, because I knew my guilt. That first time, honestly wanting to change and repent, was the biggest turning point in my life.
I tried to pray, but I couldn’t. I started to cry, the first time in years, and I felt like I was being torn apart inside. I fell over, still in a kneeling position, and my body went into convulsions. I kept praying in my mind, “Please help me!”
I almost fell unconscious. Then the physical pain passed, and I just lay there crying. I had a long way to go to clean up my life, but I knew that the first step was the hardest. I didn’t understand the Atonement, but the feeling of peace and comfort that engulfed me left no doubt that it was real.

My companion and I later learned that Brother and Sister Diaz were both working for minimum wage at a local textile mill and sending half of their earnings to Guayaquil to help support their families. When we suggested that we eat less often at their house so we wouldn’t be a financial burden on them, Niza exclaimed, “Oh, no, Elder Norman!” She explained that since they got baptized and started paying tithing, somehow their freezer seemed to stay full of chicken and fish, even though she frequently fed the missionaries.

In Doctrine and Covenants 123:12 we learn, “There are many yet on the earth … who are only kept from the truth because they know not where to find it.” Through Hugo and Niza’s missionary efforts as members and later as stake missionaries, many came to know the truth of the gospel.
When we, like Hugo and Niza, seek diligently for the truth and then eagerly share the good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ, we will see a multitude of blessings in our lives and in the many lives we touch.