Gospel Story Finder

I did not fully prepare him; I surprised him, and maybe I hurt him. I could not bring myself to say it so bluntly. So I explained, “I was a new member when Dad and I met and fell in love. I had heard an interfaith marriage could be hard, but no one explained it. I had not known any active, part-member families; maybe that should have been a warning to me? Anyhow, I just thought telling people to marry in the Church was prejudice. No one told me Dad should know more about the Church and my hopes, and it never occurred to me that I would feel so lonely going to church without him. I also did not realize how I could upset him by going to church.
“You see, when you’re planning to marry, you think you are going to have everything you already have, plus everything the other has. There just is not time, energy, or room enough for everything, and sometimes one of you does not want everything the other has to offer. Compromises have to be made. It’s not easy to compromise your beliefs and way of life.
“Anyhow, after a lot of experiments, Dad and I finally came to an adjustment. As the saying goes, ‘When life hands you a lemon, add the sweetener of love and make lemonade.’”
“Yes, Dad even went so far as to let you three go to church with me—after I was reactivated. Some nonmember dads would not be so generous. You have a very fine father.”

After crossing the Colorado River by ferry, the company still faced more than 240 kilometers of rugged ground. Elizabeth M. Decker described this land in a letter to her parents. “It’s the roughest country you or anybody else ever seen; it’s nothing in the world but rocks and holes, hills, and hollows. The mountains are just one solid rock as smooth as an apple.” Because the land turned out to be rougher than anticipated, the journey took much longer than expected—six months instead of six weeks—making the so-called shortcut extremely arduous. Two babies were born along the way. Supplies had to be brought in to the company by mule train. On 6 April 1880, the exhausted company came upon a few acres of good farmland near a small river. They named the spot Bluff City.
Though travel worn, the pioneers had remained true to their resolve to follow the prophet and move forward, and they had endured the hardships in good spirits. As one member of the company recalled, “In a camp … moving … through extremely rough country, one would naturally look for some trouble and a few accidents, but this was not the case. All was hustle and harmony.”

In December 2021 there was a huge fire near my home. The winds were fanning the fire, and it got out of control. It ripped through neighborhoods and stores.
When our family first heard about the fire, we were in the temple visitors’ center. We prayed and prayed that our friends and family would be safe.
We desperately had to trust in the Lord. It gave me peace and comfort to know that if we trusted Him, we could be OK, no matter what happened. That night, the wind calmed down and firefighters were able to control the fire.
Our house was safe, though nearby towns were wiped out. I know that all those wonderful people who lost their homes will be OK. The Lord will help them.
I could feel the Lord’s love for me and all of His children. Trusting in the Lord’s love is something incredible. Put yourself in His hands, and many blessings will come to you.
Corgan W., Colorado, USA

At a school party in Melbourne a few years ago, Emily Denning walked up to Lisa Bignell and said something shocking.

Why was Lisa shocked? Well, the two girls had never been more than just acquaintances, classmates. So you could have knocked Lisa over with a feather when Emily walked up to her and said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this for a while. I want to know more about your church. I want to become a Mormon.”

Lisa says, “I sort of jumped because it was really unexpected. I guess I never thought she’d be interested.”

It turns out that Emily had known for several years that Lisa was LDS. It also happened that Emily had been searching for the right church for about six years. “I was trying to find the truth, something that sounded right to me, not what other people thought I should believe. I wanted to find out for myself,” she says.

Emily visited a number of different churches, but none of them “clicked” as she puts it. In the meantime, Lisa’s family was participating in their ward’s “set-a-date” program (where members are encouraged to set a target date for having someone prepared to receive the missionaries). “We had been praying for a couple of weeks, when Emily came up to me. Because we never really hung around at school together, we didn’t know each other a whole lot. I was shocked, but then I thought immediately, This is an opportunity. I’d better take it.”

So Lisa invited Emily to a fireside where they were showing the film “How Rare a Possession.” Emily says, “I figured, well, there’s only one way to find out if this is right or not. I felt even before I came to church that I was going to join. It was just a feeling I had. When I walked into the chapel, everything just fell into place. I had this really good feeling.”

That good feeling was just reinforced as Emily continued to attend church and firesides and took the missionary lessons. Her only regrets since her baptism? Emily looks at little children in church and sometimes envies them, “growing up in church, with Primary and seminary, Young Women and all the rest of it.” She wishes she had been a member all her life. She knows how she’ll raise her own children someday.

Actually, the missionary work never ends. Emily wants to be married in the temple and raise her children in the Church. Ben plans to go on a mission. At last report Sally was working to introduce a friend to the gospel. But first it has to begin. And it begins with friendship. It begins with letting your membership and your values be known. And it begins with faith that if you do your part, the Lord will do his.

Years ago my spry 96-year-old neighbor, Alice, who also raised sheep, became ill during lambing season, so I offered to do her night lambing. When I entered her lambing shed my first night “on duty,” Alice’s nearly 100 ewes were peacefully bedded down for the night. Yet when I appeared, they immediately sensed a stranger in their midst. Terrified, they instantly sought safety by huddling together in a far corner (see v. 5).
This continued for several nights. No matter how quietly I entered, the sheep panicked and fled. I spoke soothingly to the newborn lambs and ewes as I tended them. By the fifth night they no longer stirred as I worked among them. They had come to recognize my voice and trust me.
Sometime later I told Alice I would feed her dozen or so bum lambs their bottles. (A bum lamb is one whose mother has died or cannot produce enough milk.) Imitating Alice, I called to her lambs, “Come, BaBa! Come, BaBa!” I expected the lambs to hungrily stampede me as they did her. But not a single lamb even glanced up. Alice then stepped out her kitchen door and called. Hearing her voice, they eagerly rushed toward her, clamoring for their milk.
Intrigued, Alice and I conducted an experiment. Standing in my corral, Alice mimicked my call: “Here, lamby, lamby! Here, lamby, lamby!” and received no response whatsoever. But when I called with the exact same words, my sheep quickly surrounded me. Even though the words we used to summon the sheep were identical, our unfamiliar voices went unheeded. The sheep loyally heard only their true shepherd (see v. 4).
John 10 distinguishes a shepherd from a sheepherder. A shepherd, whose sheep are his own, has loving concern for their safety. In contrast, a sheepherder is merely the “hireling” and “careth not” (v. 13). The parable also teaches that while the hireling flees and deserts his sheep (see v. 12), the shepherd willingly lays down his life for his sheep (see v. 11). This is certainly true of our Good Shepherd—our Savior, Jesus Christ—who lovingly gave His life for us (see vv. 15, 17–18).
To me these experiences confirmed one of the critical messages of the parable: striving to personally know our Good Shepherd and to readily recognize His voice will prevent our mistakenly following the hireling. By faithfully heeding the voice of our Good Shepherd—and none other—we will be guided to eternal safety.

I had an experience that influenced my feelings about the importance of choosing what is right. Several years ago, the young daughter of a friend of mine died in a tragic accident. Hopes and dreams were shattered. My friend felt unbearable sorrow. He began to question what he believed.

The mother of my friend asked if I would talk to him and give him a blessing. As I laid my hands upon his head, I felt to tell him something I had not thought about in the same way before. The impression that came to me was this: “Faith is not only a feeling; it is also a decision.” He would need to choose faith.

My friend chose the road of faith and obedience. He got on his knees. His spiritual balance returned. The ability to seek within ourselves the gift of faith is an enormous spiritual blessing.

Sophie didn’t feel good as she sat down for breakfast on Sunday morning.
Sophie, I’m sorry. You are too sick to go to church today.
Sophie started to cry.
But I want to go to Primary.
Maybe we can do something special at home.
Sophie was sad. She went to her room and covered her face with her blanket. Then she got an idea.
Maybe we can have pretend Primary at home today.
As Sophie’s brothers got ready for church, Sophie put on her own Sunday clothes. She also dressed her dolls and stuffed animals in pretty dresses so they could come to pretend Primary too.
After the rest of the family left for church, Sophie and Mom made the living room into a pretend Primary room. Sophie taped pictures of Jesus to the wall and got the Children’s Songbook from the bookshelf. She also got out crayons and scriptures.
Sophie sat on the couch with her dolls and stuffed animals. Mom said an opening prayer. Then Sophie and Mom sang “I Am a Child of God” and “I Love to See the Temple.”
Sophie was happy during pretend Primary. Even her dolls and stuffed animals sat still.
After pretend Primary was over, Mom laid Sophie in her bed for a nap.
Thanks for doing a pretend Primary with me. But I can’t wait to go to real Primary next week!

Perhaps less visible than the Prophet’s father, but equally important in shaping and influencing his life, was his mother, Lucy Mack Smith. She gave birth to 11 children and endured faithfully as all but 4 preceded her in death. During her life, she watched six of her immediate family and one grandson die as a result of ruthless mob violence and persecution.

Early in her marriage, Lucy prepared herself to raise a prophet. On one occasion she became seriously ill, and the doctors said she would die. Lucy records that she “made a solemn covenant with God that if He would let me live I would endeavor to serve him according to the best of my abilities.” After a voice assured her that she would live, she told her mother, “The Lord will let me live, if I am faithful to the promise which I made to him, to be a comfort to my mother, my husband, and my children.”3

She gave continual encouragement, support, and strength to her son, Joseph the Prophet. His mother was the first person with whom young Joseph shared some of his momentous experiences of the Sacred Grove. Years later, he shared with her the joy and relief he felt when the Lord allowed others to view the sacred plates of gold.4

The Prophet’s mother shared also in his sorrows, sufferings, and persecutions. One time a mob took Joseph and his brother Hyrum prisoner and threatened to shoot them. The two brothers were confined under a cloth cover in a wagon. Their courageous mother risked her life and forced her way through the hostile mob to comfort her sons. Joseph and Hyrum could not see their mother and could only extend a hand from under the confining cover. As Lucy’s hand and the hands of her sons touched, the wagon drove off, literally tearing the sorrowing mother from her two sons.

Like great parents of all ages, Lucy turned to prayer for divine help to sustain her family. During the march from Ohio to Missouri known as Zion’s Camp, Joseph and Hyrum were seriously ill with cholera, and their lives were almost taken. At one point, “Hyrum sprang to his feet and exclaimed, ‘Joseph, we shall return to our families. I have had an open vision, in which I saw mother kneeling under an apple tree; and she is even now asking God, in tears, to spare our lives. … The Spirit testifies, that her prayers … will be answered.’”5

Lucy’s sons Joseph and Hyrum ultimately sealed their testimonies with their blood. As the grieving mother looked upon their lifeless remains, she cried, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken this family!” As a kind blessing to a faithful mother, the Lord softened her grief and granted to her the peace that only God can bestow. A voice spoke to her soul: “I have taken them to myself, that they might have rest.”6

Long years ago I was touched by a story which illustrated love of neighbor between a small boy named Paul and a telephone operator he had never met. These were the days many will remember with nostalgia but which a new generation will never experience.
Paul related the story: “When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember that the shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but I used to listen with fascination when Mother would talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was ‘Information, Please,’ and there was nothing she did not know. ‘Information, Please’ could supply anybody’s number and the correct time.
“I learned that if I stood on a stool, I could reach the telephone. I called ‘Information, Please’ for all sorts of things. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my arithmetic, too.
“Then there was the time that Petey, our pet canary, died. I called ‘Information, Please’ and told her the sad story. She listened and then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. ‘Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers, feet up, on the bottom of the cage?’ I asked.
“She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, ‘Paul, always remember that there are other worlds in which to sing.’ Somehow I felt better.
“All this took place in a small town near Seattle. Then we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. ‘Information, Please’ belonged to that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying to call her. The memories of those childhood conversations never really left me; often in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.
“Later, when I went west to college, my plane made a stop in Seattle,” Paul continued. “I called ‘Information, Please,’ and when, miraculously, I heard that familiar voice, I said to her, ‘I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?’
“‘I wonder,’ she said, ‘if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls.’ I told her how often I had thought of her over the years, and I asked if I could call her again when I came back west.
“‘Please do,’ she said. ‘Just ask for Sally.’
“Only three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered, ‘Information,’ and I asked for Sally. ‘Are you a friend?’ the woman asked.
“‘Yes, a very old friend,’ I replied.
“‘Then I’m sorry to have to tell you. Sally has only been working part-time the last few years because she was ill. She died five weeks ago.’ But before I could hang up, she said, ‘Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?’
“‘Yes,’ I responded.
“‘Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down. Here it is—I’ll read it. Tell him I still say there are other worlds in which to sing. He’ll know what I mean.’
“I thanked her and hung up,” said Paul. “I did know what Sally meant.”
Sally, the telephone operator, and Paul, the boy—the man—were in reality good Samaritans to each other.

When I was called to serve as the Mia Maid adviser in the Young Women organization, I doubted that I could fill the calling. I didn’t think the girls would like me or learn anything from me, especially when I realized how different things are for them than they were when I was their age.
That feeling changed a few weeks into my calling when I attended a Young Woman event. At the event a mother expressed how grateful she was for the Young Women program because it strengthened her daughter against temptation. Her words helped me understand just how important my role really is.
I realized that my calling was about more than teaching lessons on Sundays and helping plan activities. It was a calling to help these young women prepare for the future—to go to the temple, serve in the Church, and be good mothers. I needed to help them prepare for life.

Now may I just share with you a wonderful and beautiful story. Brother Isogai is 17 years old, and he passed on to me his conversion story.
“My family consists of three members. We are now living in our grandparents’ home because two years ago my parents got divorced. Since then our grandfather and my mother started working to support us. Some time in October 1979, I met the missionaries on the street near Shibuya station. I studied and I was baptized, and I became inactive following my baptism.
“Since my family was not stable, I was not happy, and I wondered about my future, though I was baptized—about my life, about my family. I wondered, I wondered, I wondered every day.
And one day I wandered through Shibuya again. I was feeling depressed. With the feeling of depression and emptiness in my heart, I was walking toward a church without conscious direction. While there, I attended a beautiful baptism service. I was very impressed and inspired by it. I decided to come back to the church, which I did.
“I learned of the importance of the missionary work, and I helped the missionaries, and I did this almost every day. I went to the street with the missionaries. And I contacted many people. One day I had been praying, and I received a strong feeling that I should teach my own family. I had baptized seven of my friends within two months. So I started to introduce the gospel to my family. First, I thought I should introduce it to my mother. My mother has many friends, and she was attending another Christian church. Because of that, she refused to be baptized. But because of the beautiful fellowshipping and the cooperation of the missionaries, I finally did baptize her. Then we went into the temple during the open house for the Tokyo Temple. When we saw the sealing room, we all cried because we knew that we could be together for all eternity, and we have decided to go to that sacred spot again. My sister got baptized September 11, and I felt so strongly I should introduce the gospel to my grandparents, which I did. Now they have studied and believe, and they are ready to be baptized next Saturday, this Saturday. And I will baptize them. Oh, what great blessings I receive.”

It had been two years since my first visit to the temple, and I was looking forward to attending again with a group of young adults. My focus was to strengthen myself, make friends, and experience the privilege of performing sacred ordinances.
While in the temple baptistry, I was a bit lost in thought because of nerves. It was only my second time going to the temple, and I was afraid of doing something wrong as I performed ordinances. But then a member of the temple presidency, who was assisting with the baptisms, said to those of us waiting in line that if we could just lift the veil for a second, we could see how many people were in the spirit world waiting to be helped.
That thought pierced my heart, and suddenly I realized how important these ordinances were.
As I reflected on what he said, I remembered a technique that I had learned in a theater class where actors put themselves in the situation of the characters they play in order to portray them more effectively. I wondered if Heavenly Father could help me as I tried to put myself in the shoes of the people I was performing temple ordinances for.
How would I feel if, after decades or even centuries of waiting, I could finally receive the saving ordinances that I had so longed for?
As I tried to think more about those I was doing work for, the Holy Ghost helped me feel a sense of overwhelming joy. I couldn’t hold back my tears. I could sense the happiness of those I had just been baptized for. I felt a strong impression of how they had waited so long for their saving ordinances.
I had been anxious about going to the temple, but I realized that if I forgot about my own worries and feelings and instead focused on fully representing every person I was baptized for, I could feel their joy through the veil.
I was so grateful to be able to serve all day in the temple and help those who needed me to support them so that they could be ready to return to the presence of the Father. I better understood the revelation God gave to the Prophet Joseph Smith in the Kirtland Temple: “All who have died without a knowledge of this gospel, who would have received it if they had been permitted to tarry, shall be heirs of the celestial kingdom of God” (Doctrine and Covenants 137:7).
Before returning home from the temple, all the young adults gathered around to share their testimonies and experiences. The Holy Ghost touched everyone’s heart, and we knew that we were different than we had been when we first arrived at the temple because of our new focus on doing temple and family history work.

Others, like Rose Thompson, who was born in England, feel a kinship with the Mormon pioneers despite the fact that their ancestors were not among those who emigrated to Utah. Rose recalls being ill at age ten, and thinking about the pioneers’ courage in the face of hardship. “I wondered what would have happened to me if I had been a pioneer crossing the plains instead of being in a comfortable bed with a doctor near by,” she says. “I decided that I would have died along the way. I gave thanks that I belong to this generation and determined to bear up under my problems as the pioneers did under theirs.”

After her marriage, Rose and her husband moved to Edinburgh. There they often visited an elderly sister who had served as a “pioneer” in the Church for many years—in both the Relief Society and in the Young Women program. The woman had lost her husband and two sons to the sea.

Rose says, “When I asked her what life was like when she was young and what she did in the Church, she just said, ‘We did what needed to be done.’ She didn’t have any stories to tell me, but she shared her strong pioneer philosophy. When I faced new and difficult situations with my children and Church assignments, I found it helped me considerably to remember: just do what needs to be done.”

The ward Primary presidency were deep in thought as they contemplated the organization’s needs for the coming year. “What shall we do about Jenny?” one of them asked. “She is the only eleven-year-old in the whole ward. Don’t you think we should just combine the classes? You know how difficult it is to get teachers, especially to teach just one child.”
The Primary president nodded. “Yes, that’s true,” she said. “But I just don’t feel right about that solution. The Anderson family is having some problems with Jenny’s older sister right now, and I don’t think that Jenny is getting all the attention she needs. I think we should be particularly prayerful about this decision.”
At that time, Primary was held on a week-day afternoon, and it was difficult to find people who could teach Primary during the week. And to find someone who would be willing to teach only one child seemed an impossible task.
The next day, the Primary president studied the ward membership list. It seemed that all those who might be suitable already had more than one calling. So she took the problem to Heavenly Father—and prayed again about finding a teacher for Jenny.
The next time she looked at the ward list, she felt drawn to Sister Conner’s name—an unlikely choice, she thought, because Sister Conner said she was not a good teacher. In fact, Sister Conner had said many times, “I’m just not a teacher. I makes me nervous to stand in front of people.” Sister Conner had said it so often that everyone in the ward believed her. But there was no mistaking the Spirit’s promptings, so the Primary president took her request to the bishopric.
Sister Conner was surprised to receive the call. “Are you sure?” she asked the bishop. “You know I can’t teach.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” came the answer. “The Lord needs you in this calling, Sister Conner. We suggest that you pray about what you can do to help Jenny.”
Sister Conner was so nervous about her new calling that she was actually relieved that there was only one child in her class. Jenny was delighted when she found out that she was really going to have a teacher all to herself. Her parents were relieved and impressed that Sister Conner had accepted such an unusual calling.
The Primary year began. Every Primary day Sister Conner and Jenny could be found in the same small classroom. Sister Conner gave the lessons, and they planned projects and had fun together.
One winter day, Jenny came home from school looking as if she was getting sick from a cold. When her mother said that she had better stay home from Primary, Jenny burst into tears. “Mom, you don’t understand. I have to go. Sister Conner needs me. If I don’t go, she won’t have anyone to teach, and that would make her feel very sad!”
As the year progressed, friendship and love grew between Sister Conner and Jenny. Sister Conner taught Jenny to sew, and Jenny taught Sister Conner how much it meant to her to have a teacher of “her very own.” Jenny learned many new skills that year, and Sister Conner learned that she could indeed teach—and that she loved teaching!
As the time for Primary graduation grew closer, Sister Conner and Jenny decided that they wanted Jenny’s graduation to be a special time. Jenny’s mother bought fabric for a new dress, and Jenny and Sister Conner sewed it together.
At last, graduation day arrived. The program was a beautiful, spiritual ending to a unique year, and Jenny looked lovely in the dress she and Sister Conner had worked on together.
Jennifer is a grown woman now—beautiful and self-confident. After nine years of marriage, she has been blessed with only one child. But she learned long ago the value of “just one child”—from Sister Conner.
Meanwhile, Sister Conner has become a great Primary teacher. She still prefers teaching small classes, and when questioned about the year she taught Jenny, she says, “I didn’t do much. It wasn’t a sacrifice for me at all; it was really fun. I just loved Jenny. I enjoyed that year more than almost anything I have ever done. Even after all these years, I still miss her.”

Both boys eagerly participate in the Scouting program. In New Brunswick, boys seven years old and younger are Beavers. As a Beaver, Stephen is learning to share, be a good sport, and work with others. In Cub Scouts, Jason has earned his sports badge by jumping over a rope. He was the only one who didn’t knock it down! He also earned his artist badge by drawing a picture, and his pet-care badge by caring for and feeding the family cat and one of the dogs.

Elder Michael Mátyás of Redmond, Washington, who was serving in Veszprém, remembers the first copy he gave out. It was to Sister Petö Éva, a member of about six months. Sister Petö had to leave the meeting before the announcement was made. “I stopped her and said, ‘I know you have to go, but before you go, there’s something I want to give you.’ And I gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon. She started crying then. Since that was the first one I had given out, it was fairly emotional for me, too,” he says.

Sharing the gospel on my mission was such a rewarding experience for me that I wanted to continue doing it after I got home to Peru. But I soon realized that I didn’t have the time I needed to reach all the people I wanted to, like I did on my mission.
So I turned to social media.
I created a blog to share my mission experiences, my thoughts from my weekly Come, Follow Me study, and other gospel-related insights with others. And as I shared my blog, I started receiving sweet messages from friends thanking me for sharing. I didn’t expect that! So then I thought: “Why can’t I do more on social media?” And that’s how my path to creating a gospel-sharing platform on Instagram and YouTube began.

More than 2,500 Mexican Latter-day Saints gathered on 25 June 1989 for the creation of the Tecalco Mexico Stake, about thirty miles south of Mexico City. It was the one-hundredth stake organized in that country. Among the members of the new stake was Fidencia García de Rojas—at age 106 the oldest Church member in Mexico. The Church in Mexico had passed yet another historic milestone during the eighty-eight years that Fidencia had been a member.
When Sister Fidencia died a month and a half later, President Felipe Hernández Luis of the Tecalco stake commented that those attending the funeral were part of another historic moment—the death of a Mexican pioneer.
Sister Fidencia began attending Latter-day Saint church meetings sometime between 1889 and 1901. During that period, the Church had closed the Mexican Mission. As a result, Church leaders in Mexico had little direction from Church headquarters, and many units deviated from standard doctrines and practices. During this time, Sister Fidencia and her family—not yet members of the Church—attended the Tecalco Branch.
When President Ammon M. Tenney came to Tecalco in 1901 to reestablish the branch after the mission reopened, the leader of the branch, Julian Rojas, was initially unwilling to relinquish control. Brother Rojas finally relented, and President Tenney rebaptized him and seventy-five others on August 18. One month later, President Tenney baptized Fidencia, her parents, and her grandparents. From that day on, Sister Fidencia dedicated her life to serving the Lord.
She recalled that after the Tecalco Branch was again in contact with Church headquarters, people began joining the Church. The first full-time missionaries soon arrived, and Fidencia’s parents built an extra room onto their house for the missionaries to live in. As membership grew, Sister Fidencia was among the group of members and missionaries who worked hard to buy a building lot for a Latter-day Saint chapel. She also helped missionaries in nearby Ozumba with their room, clothes, and food, and she worked at the Mexican mission home.
During her time at the mission home, the American missionaries taught Sister Fidencia to sing hymns in Spanish and English. She later joined the legendary Tecalco Choir and sang with the choir until just a few years before her death.
In 1910, Mexico entered a civil war that lasted, off and on, through the 1930s. In August 1913, American missionaries had to leave the country, and Mexican leaders were once again left to themselves. But the Church was well established by then, and the civil war did not seriously impede Mexican Saints from administering the Church. They did so for more than four years.
Sister Fidencia witnessed an even greater disruption of the Church in Mexico in 1936, when a large body of members known as the Third Convention broke away from the main body of Mexican Saints.
By 1942, however, Arwell L. Pierce, newly called president of the Mexican Mission, had begun working to resolve misunderstandings. And in 1946, President George Albert Smith, eighth President of the Church, presided over a reunification conference in Mexico City. During the conference, more than twelve hundred Third Conventionists returned to the Church. Sister Fidencia attended the conference and visited with President Smith in her home. Hers was the first home President Smith visited when the traveled to Tecalco.
Other milestones for the Church in Mexico began to occur more rapidly as Sister Fidencia grew older. Together with family and other Church members, she made several trips to the Arizona Temple over the years to do temple work for herself and her family. In 1972 she attended the Mexico City area conference. And in 1983 she attended the dedication of the Mexico City Temple. During these years she remained dedicated to her family, to missionary work, and to her Church callings, two of which were particularly important to her.
As a Primary teacher, Sister Fidencia loved to teach children the gospel through stories, especially Old Testament stories. She gave her students a love of the scriptures, which she read daily. And she often recited from memory facts and stories from the lives of all of the latter-day prophets. She taught many of her own grandchildren in that calling.
As a visiting teacher, Sister Fidencia completed forty consecutive years of 100-percent visiting teaching. In February 1978, she received commendation for this accomplishment from Relief Society and mission leaders, who expressed appreciation for her service and compassion.
Sister Fidencia’s posterity remembers her for an even greater accomplishment: bringing five generations of their family into the Church. She and her first husband, Aniceto Rojas, the son of Julian Rojas of the early Tecalco Branch, had six children, two of whom survived to have children and grandchildren of their own. She and her second husband, Manuel Rosas, had three children.
Sister Fidencia survived both of her husbands and lived to see many grandchildren and great-grandchildren serve missions. Many of her descendants have served and continue to serve faithfully as leaders among the Mexican Saints.
To her family, the most precious gift Grandmother Fidencia left was the gospel of Jesus Christ. For her fellow Saints, Sister Fidencia’s many years of humble service left a legacy that spanned almost an entire century—a century during which Church members in Mexico struggled, overcame, and finally flourished.

Kalik was ten weeks old—old enough to do a little exploring on his own. His parents were away hunting, and his brothers and sisters were playing a game of nip-the-tail. Now a breeze had brought a new scent to Kalik’s nose, one he had never smelled before.
The wolf pup knew the scent of spruce trees and of caribou just over the hill. He knew the way flowers smelled and the way the world smelled when it rained. But his nose had never told him about this new thing. It was a wet smell, like water lilies. But there was a flesh odor also.
What is it? Kalik wondered. He had to find out. His big feet padded softly on the forest floor, and his pointed ears and skinny tail stuck straight up in the air. His ears would bring sounds of friends or foes, but his tail told him nothing. It was just there, like a twig.
Kalik tilted his nose in the air to better catch the strange scent. Following this invisible air trail was not easy. At times, the little wolf lost the scent. Then he circled until he found it again.
Suddenly Kalik saw something by a small pond. It was a strange and unfamiliar creature, and it was crouching and staring at the pup with bulging eyes.
Kalik advanced cautiously. The “thing” continued to stare. Kalik’s nose touched it—and BOING! The creature gave a great leap.
Kalik was so startled, he tumbled backward in a somersault. Scrambling to his feet, he saw that the thing-that-leaped had landed right next to the pond. All at once it went, “Haaa-rumph!” and hopped another foot or two.
In the meantime, a lone wolf was watching both Kalik and the frog. He was a large male from a distant pack, and he was hungry. He wanted that frog and had no intention of letting Kalik frighten it away. He crouched, ready to spring.
Kalik walked up to the frog and stuck out a paw. Does it want to play? he wondered. He touched it ever so lightly, and once again was startled when the frog leaped away. Up-up-up went the frog … and it came down with a plop! into the water.
Kalik was captivated by this new interest in his life. He watched the frog swim to a lily pad and climb on top of it.
Kalik neither heard nor smelled the older wolf. One minute he was observing the creature that leaped and the next, he was sprawled on his back. The great dark figure had pinned him down, snarling fiercely. The stranger snapped at Kalik angrily, and the young wolf fought back as best he could. But he was no match for his opponent. He was fighting a valiant but losing battle.
It might have gone badly for Kalik, had not his parents rushed to the scene. Their keen ears and noses told them of trouble. Without hesitation they raced to the defense of Kalik. There was a short, fierce battle, then the strange wolf realized he couldn’t win and fled. He hadn’t really wanted to fight. All he really wanted was that frog, and there were, after all, other frogs in other ponds.
After Kalik’s parents had sniffed him over to make sure he was all right, the three wolves started back to the den. But Kalik turned once to see if the thing were still there. He spied it resting on the lily pad.
The frog shifted a bit, as if to make himself more comfortable. Then he went, “Haaa-rumph!” again. All seemed to be well in his world too.

My father especially encouraged me to pay my tithing, so one day I asked him about his testimony of this principle. “When did you really know the importance of paying your tithes?” I asked. In response to my question, my father told me a story about his parents paying their tithing.
When my father was growing up in Utah, his family was poor. His shoes were so worn out that the soles had holes in them and were barely attached to his shoes.
One day his father gave him an envelope full of money and said, “Take this to the bishop. This represents our tithing to the Lord.”
So my father started walking through the fields to the bishop’s house. It was winter, and there was snow on the ground. As my father walked, his feet were very cold. He felt the money in his hand and thought how much he could use a new pair of shoes.
But my father kept walking, and he thought to himself, “I guess this has to be a very important thing, so important that my father would take this money and give it to the bishop even when we need it so badly.”
Walking through the snow that day, my father realized the importance of tithing. He came to understand that tithing is more a matter of faith than of money.