Gospel Story Finder

Does hiking 16 miles in the Arizona desert pulling a handcart sound like a good time? Well, for more than 225 young men and young women in the Mesa Arizona Kimball East Stake it was a great time.
The “trekkers” marched 12 miles the first day along the original Mormon Battalion Trail southwest of Phoenix. They traveled near the exact location where the Mormon Battalion was on Christmas Day, 150 years ago.
The eight companies, each including three handcarts with “Ma’s, Pa’s and children,” made camp on the second day, when they did a whole lot of “pioneering.” Many priests, Laurels, teachers and Mia Maids learned to kill a chicken and cook it.
“We did what they did,” says Rayna Martinez, 14, of the Sunny Mesa Ward, “but they had to do it every single day. It sure makes you more thankful for everything you have.”
The last day of the trek included hiking and pulling the handcarts about four more miles and ended when the tired and dusty youth were treated to a barbecue.
“It strengthened my testimony,” says Ronda Abel, 16, of the Fairfield Ward. “The pioneers went through all that because they knew that what they believed in was true. They endured those hardships. That makes me stronger. I know that if I ever have to stand up for what I believe in, I will because I’ll remember what they went through.”

Mandy Young, 19, just moved from a little branch to the London North Ward. Her conversion story is just a little different. “I used to think Mormons were people with shaved heads and long, white robes,” she said. “But my Mum’s sister was a member, and she wasn’t like that. She didn’t go very often, but the home teachers would visit. We talked about a lot of things, and they invited us to church. My family went one week before I did. My family told me it was quite nice, and people participated instead of listening to one preacher at a big pulpit. The second week, I went and thought it was nice. I thought the lesson situation was very nice.” Now Mandy attends the London North Ward, and her 18-year-old sister serves as the Primary president in her home branch.

The same allegiance to tradition that makes missionary proselyting difficult also demands ingenuity in doing member-missionary work. About fourteen years ago, in Premia de Mar, a small suburb of Barcelona, Mari Carmen Clavet and Carol B. Rivero began holding home Relief Society. No branch existed in the town. The majority of the twenty-five women who attended were not members of the Church, but they still seemed to enjoy the prayerfully selected lessons prepared each week.

When four baptisms resulted from the Premia sisterhood, missionaries were sent to the small town and established the Premia de Mar Branch, although there were no priesthood holders at the time. For several years missionaries served as branch presidents, until a returned missionary, Javier Garriga—once a Primary student of Sister Rivero—moved to Premia de Mar. He now serves as branch president.

In another suburb, Hospitalet, Ramón and Gloria Arriaga regularly invite nonmember friends and family to their weekly family home evenings. “Sometimes we’ve had as many as ten to twelve visitors,” they say. “We make goals during the week of whom to help or invite, always trying to show love to someone lonely.” Their two children were called at the same time to serve missions in Madrid, Spain’s capital. “You might say we’ve been on a mission through our children,” their mother says. “We lived every minute of their service for the Lord and felt the blessings flow.”

During my final two years of schooling to become a dentist, I had the privilege of being taught weekly by one of the world’s foremost maxillary-facial surgeons. His personal preparation and training had been long and intense. After receiving his dental degree, he had received additional degrees in orthodontics, oral surgery, plastic surgery, and pathology. Because of his renowned ability, he was sought after by people from many parts of the world to repair mouths and faces following traumatic accidents, or to remove destructive tumors that left faces deformed and in need of his talents at facial reconstruction.
We had weekly seminars with this noted surgeon. They were held in the medical theater, where the dental students could view a patient’s particular disorder and see the results achieved following the surgical correction. In the sessions before the treatment, the clinical and laboratory findings were presented, and the possible cause or causative agents that might have contributed to the malady were discussed.
It was interesting how often the causative agent would be one of the harmful substances that the Lord had revealed to mankind through the Prophet Joseph Smith. The fact that the Lord had revealed the Word of Wisdom—with all its important counsel on the various substances that are beneficial, as well as those that are harmful to our bodies—long before that knowledge was taught by the medical community, has been a great testimony to me of the calling of Joseph Smith as the Lord’s prophet of the Restoration.
During those lecture sessions, I could have closed my eyes and imagined that I was seated in one of our Church meetings being taught about the blessings of living the Word of Wisdom. At almost every session this noted surgeon would vigorously denounce tobacco because of its harmful effects, and we witnessed it before our very eyes.
At that time evidence identifying smoking as a major cause of lung cancer was being documented. However, little was published about tobacco as a major cause of mouth and throat cancer. There in that theater as a dental student, I saw the devastating effects of cancer of the mouth and face, which were attributed not only to smoking but also to chewing tobacco. Keeping that powerful irritant in contact with the mouth tissue resulted many times in disfiguring types of facial tumors.
“And again, tobacco is Not for the Body, neither for the belly, and is not good for man” (D&C 89:8).
Alcohol was also condemned during those sessions as an irritant to the delicate tissues of the mouth and throat, causing other types of tumors.
“And, again, strong drinks are not for the belly, but for the washing of your bodies” (D&C 89:7).
Tea and coffee were discussed, not only because of their adverse chemical effects on the body, but also because of the temperature of the drinks. The drinks were often taken so hot that, without realizing it, many individuals were drinking liquids close to the boiling temperature. Those detrimental effects were observed.
“And again, hot drinks are not for the body or belly” (D&C 89:9).
But why do these substances act as they do? Why does one person contract an infirmity, and another in the same situation and environment never have a problem?
Our renowned instructor explained that under normal conditions, the cells behave in a normal manner; however, certain factors can trigger the cells to go out of control. These cells then become fast-growing and destructive tumors that can disfigure and threaten life. The sensitivity level at which the cells respond to the triggering factor, or T-Factor as he called it, depends on the inherent nature of the individual. Some people are very sensitive, so just a small stimulus would cause the change, while other individuals appear to be more resistant. This inherent level at which the cells can be triggered to change could explain why some people live long and seemingly trouble free, while others are affected easily and early in life.
With this understanding, perhaps we might understand better the meaning of the words from the Word of Wisdom, “adapted to the capacity of the weak and the weakest of all saints” (D&C 89:3). For a person with a low level of resistance to a harmful substance, just one encounter may trigger unwanted and dangerous cellular changes.
It is interesting how far the medical community has come in vindicating the words of a prophet who revealed that great health law, the Word of Wisdom, when its principles were not very popular.
As a young dental student, I was extremely impressed with the knowledge of this outstanding maxillary-facial surgeon. He seemed to have great knowledge, and I was amazed with his skill. However, in reality, his knowledge was just a mite in comparison with the knowledge of the Great Physician—the one who healed the lepers, raised Lazarus from the dead, and made the blind to see. The Word of Wisdom is from Him, and medical science is just barely catching up.

Times were difficult in 1931, and everyone in eleven-year-old Evard’s family had to work hard and help each other so that they could have the things they needed. Even Evard’s mother helped earn money by cleaning people’s homes.
Evard loved his parents and his five brothers and one sister. Even though they didn’t have very much, he was happy. One day, he looked at himself and realized that his overalls were ragged and worn. He knew that he would soon need a new pair. He also knew that his parents had very little money, so he didn’t want to ask them for some new overalls.
His parents had taught him that there was One to whom he could always turn for help, no matter what, so he knelt by his bed and prayed. He told Heavenly Father about his need for a pair of overalls and asked for His help. Evard had great faith and knew that somehow his prayer would be answered.
The next day, his mother went to clean a woman’s house. The woman had been cleaning out her closets and had found three pairs of nice overalls that her children had outgrown. She asked Evard’s mother if someone in her family could use them. Mother gladly took the overalls home.
Evard was excited when she showed him the overalls. He quickly tried them on. Each pair was a perfect fit! He knew that Heavenly Father loved him and had answered his prayer.

A few months ago a young couple decided to cancel their health insurance. They felt they just could not afford it. The high cost of graduate school, in a time of rampant inflation, led them to disregard the counsel of the Brethren. Then came a baby—premature, with serious complications resulting in incredibly expensive care. Heartsick and frightened, they turned first to their families, who responded with substantial help. That not being nearly enough, they then turned to their bishop, who, from the fast offerings, supplied additional help. They would have been almost self-sustaining had they retained their insurance.

A carol concert was held on 3 December at the Portsmouth England Stake centre, in conjunction with Havant Rotary to provide presents for children in the area. Over 350 members attended the concert from across the stake and donated over three hundred presents. The event was attended by the Lord Mayor of Portsmouth, Councillor Tom Coles, and Graham Smith, the president of Havant Rotary, was on hand to receive the 300 gifts. The next day, Church representatives met with Havant Rotary and three food banks (Emsworth, Havant and Waterlooville) who were overwhelmed to receive the gifts to split between them, for local underprivileged children.

On board one of those overcrowded wooden sailing ships were my great-grandparents, their little family, and a few belongings. The waves were high, the voyage long, the quarters cramped. One little girl, Mary, had always been frail, but now with the passage of each day, her anxious mother saw the little one becoming weaker. She had a serious illness. There was no neighborhood clinic, no doctor’s prescription, no hospital—just the steady roll of the tired old ship. Day after day worried parents watched anxiously for land, but there was none. Little Mary could not withstand the hardships of the voyage. After days of feverish sickness, she peacefully passed beyond this veil of tears.
As family and friends crowded around on the open deck, the ship’s captain directed the service; and that precious, little body was placed tenderly in a tear-stained canvas, and dropped into the angry sea. Her strong father, in emotion-choked tones, comforted Mary’s grieving mother, repeating, “‘The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’ (Job 1:21.) We’ll see our Mary again!”

I was called to serve as a missionary and assigned to the Brazil Florianópolis Mission. I spent seven months there and ended up returning home early. When I was going home, I said a prayer asking Heavenly Father to not release me as a missionary. After I prayed, I felt the Spirit telling me that everything would be OK.
During my first week home, I trusted in the way I felt after I prayed at the airport. I began helping in the temple store. When I got the chance to meet with my stake president, he was very happy to hear of my service and said he wouldn’t release me. I was then assigned to be a service missionary in my home mission, the Recife Northeast Mission.
My service mission includes various assignments. During the week I help in the temple shop, the temple office, and the laundry room. There is always something to do at the temple—the missionaries never sit still there.
On Saturdays I help with institute. I participated in the institute’s missionary preparation class to share what I learned on the mission—it felt so good to share. I also help distribute food to the students after class.
In addition to my specific assignments, I use my social networks to share the gospel. I have a page I created when I was 17 years old that talks about the youth program.
The Lord has called us to serve. He knows us and our capabilities. Service missions are inspired by the Lord, and if you were assigned to serve one, it’s because the Lord needs your help in building His kingdom.
Even if I’m sad or facing difficulties, I really like it when I complete each month of my mission and can reflect on how I’ve grown and been strengthened during that time. I love my mission. It really is inspired by the Lord.

Study the scriptures. One spring day I came home in a cheerful mood, only to be met by my tearful wife. I quickly asked her what had happened. She explained that my father, who had disowned me some years earlier as a result of my activity in the Church, had called. He had tried to convince her of my failings as a husband. Feelings of anger stirred in my heart that he would upset my wife to the point of tears.
I wanted to call my father to retaliate. However, I decided to wait and calm down first. For the next two days I remained angry and bitter. At the end of the second day, my wife and I knelt to pray. Since I did not feel in the right frame of mind to pray, I asked her if she would offer the prayer.
She took my arm and said, “Before we pray, I want you to read a scripture.” She turned to 3 Nephi and read, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you” (3 Ne. 12:44).
My heart began to pound. I felt suddenly as if the Savior were speaking directly to me because his words penetrated the deepest portion of my heart. Then I began to cry as I felt my angry heart soften.
When I looked at my wife, she said something I will never forget: “Do you know why I shared that scripture? I want you to be the best person you can be.”
I was overwhelmed. My sweet wife had opened a scriptural door that let the light of gospel principles shine through to my heart, and I was able to forgive my father. I came to appreciate my good wife even more. The gospel has given us a solid foundation in our marriage as we continue to help each other be the best we can be.—Name withheld

I discovered the big, old lonesome rock the summer that I was at Grandpa’s farm, and I claimed it as my own. The rock was on a narrow stretch of wasteland bordering one edge of Grandpa’s property. The land there was too rocky to be worked, and the stock disliked the thick, tall grass that grew there.
A sizable crevice in the top of my rock formed a natural hiding place. I could climb down into it, stretch out on my back, and watch the white clouds sail across the sky. Or I could sit with my back against the rock, play my harmonica, and listen to the way the sounds swelled against the sides of the crevice. It was a neat place.
Then one day Coyote came to claim the hiding rock.
The first time that I saw him, he was on the very top of it, his nose pointing skyward. He was howling a long, trembling wail that made me shiver.
“Get off my rock!” I yelled at him.
Coyote faced me, his pale brown fur ruffling in the wind. Then he turned and went over the edge of the rock and into the tall grass.
I climbed to the top of the rock and slid down into my hiding place, half expecting Coyote to appear above me. When he didn’t, I pulled my harmonica out of my back pocket and began to play my favorite tunes.
It was near noon when I climbed out again. Coyote was still around; I caught a glimpse of his pointy ears and long nose through the grass.
I grinned. Maybe he had been listening to my harmonica music. My mind worked on the notion. After all, Grandpa played his old radio in the barn at milking time. He claimed it relaxed the cows and made the milking easier. Maybe music would have a relaxing effect on the coyote too.
I puffed out my cheeks and blew a lively tune just to see. Coyote lifted his head and let out a terrible howl. I cowered back down into my hiding place, rubbing away the goose bumps on my arms. So much for that!
When I told Grandpa about Coyote, he only chuckled and told me, “He’s just being sociable.”
“You mean Coyote could become friendly—like a real dog?”
Grandpa shook his head. “I doubt it. A wild critter mostly stays wild. But your playing, now, must trigger that coyote’s inborn nature to howl, to sing along with you.”
Each time that I went to the rock after that, I played and played my harmonica, hoping that Coyote would come and sing along. He never did, but I always felt that he was nearby.
I tried leaving my lunch, untouched, beside the big rock and imagined him wiggling in on his belly until he’d get close enough to snatch it. But the tall grass was yellow and crackling-dry before I saw him again.
I played a game of sitting quietly in my hiding place and not blowing on my harmonica, hoping that Coyote would think me gone and come to the top of the rock to wail his claim.
And he did.
I didn’t hear him come, but all at once he was there, standing on the top edge of the crevice, looking down at me. My first thought was that he would spring on me. I hollered and waved my arms. Coyote disappeared.
When my pounding heart calmed, I could have kicked myself. I scrambled to the top of the rock. “Aw, Coyote,” I called, “I didn’t mean to scare you away!” I could see him skirting the rocks and shoving aside the dry grass as he trotted across the waste. Pulling the harmonica out of my back pocket, I began to play, hoping that the playing would let him know that I hadn’t meant him any harm.
Coyote stopped and sat down, his brown nose barely showing above the yellow grass.
That’s when I noticed the smoky-dark clouds rolling in. Even as I stared, the ominous-looking clouds were whipped by the wind to the edge of the waste and straight toward the rock. I knew, even before the clouds were over me, that it was too late to reach Grandpa’s farm ahead of the rain.
As I turned to crawl back into my hiding place, a zigzag of brightness split the clouds and hit the earth with a crash. Coyote leaped into the air as if stung by the lightning. I could only stand and stare at the little tongue of fire that started to leap up where the bolt had touched ground. Coyote raced toward it.
“Coyote, come back!” I screamed, fear rising in me.
Coyote swerved and ran in another direction. But even as he did, the wind lifted a bit of the flame, carrying it ahead of him and starting another fire in his path.
Now fire seemed to be everywhere. Great billows of smoke rose up to meet the dark clouds. Smoke choked me, and my eyes smarted until I could no longer see Coyote.
With a desperate cry, I dove deep into the crevice of the big rock. I stretched out on my stomach and breathed in the good air trapped in its depth. I covered my ears with my hands to shut out the sound of the crackling flames. I shut my eyes, trying to blot out my mind-picture of poor Coyote frantically running, with no safe place to run to.
I said a quick prayer: “Heavenly Father, please help poor Coyote!”
I felt a wetness across my nose and cheek. Then on my hand. I wiped it away. I hadn’t meant to cry. I swiped more wetness from my face, then realized that it wasn’t tears at all. It was raining! Rain would put out the fire. Rain would cool the smoldering earth. I choked back a cry. Rain—but too late to save Coyote!
I pulled my hands away from my ears to listen. Something moved beside me. I reared up and caught a glimpse of a pale brown body bounding up out of the crevice and disappearing over the top.
Coyote! Coyote had been lying right next to me!
I gave a whoop of joy and scrambled out behind him. All about the big, old lonesome rock the earth was shadow-gray and bare of grass. I could see Coyote trotting off toward Grandpa’s untouched farmland. Once he stopped to look back at me.
I grinned and drew out my harmonica. The hiding rock would forever after belong to both of us—Coyote and me.

The experience began in February 2023 when Elder Doneal White and Sister Claudia White arrived in the Cook Islands to serve a mission where there was no stake patriarch. In an early morning seminary class, they heard that 14 students told their teacher they had not received their patriarchal blessings. Wheels were set in motion and soon thereafter Brother Stebbings was authorised to travel to the Cook Islands to provide the desired blessings.
Elder and Sister White said they had prayed the Stebbings there—to the Cook Islands, and the timing was perfect—with a district conference during that time, and it was school holidays—plus a national youth soccer tournament the following week had brought in two groups of members for the tournament—and they could receive their blessings.

One item that is always on the agenda of every class or quorum presidency every month is the members they don’t see very often or at all. The deacons only have a couple of members they don’t see regularly. In the presidency meeting, Mark Jones asks, “Have any of you seen Francisco?”
Royden answers, “No, it was like two weeks ago.”
Mark says, “I’ll talk to the bishop about it. I think he has a ride problem.”
Royden then brings up a project he’s trying to work out. Their ward is so spread out that it requires long distance to call from one area to another. Royden is trying to figure out just who can make calls to whom without using long distance.
“It’s like the food chain,” explains Royden. The others look at him blankly.
“It’s like there’s one big predator,” continues Royden, “that eats something that eats something else, and so on.”
The light dawns. “Oh,” says Jay, “like a phone web. That’s a good idea.” And they are soon figuring out a plan to contact the other quorum members without running up phone bills.

At age 54, before he was called as a General Authority, President Russell M. Nelson attended a meeting in which President Spencer W. Kimball challenged attendees to “be of service to the Chinese” and “learn their language.”
Although he was a busy heart surgeon at the time, President Nelson took this counsel to heart. He found a tutor to help him learn the Mandarin language.
It wasn’t long before President Nelson found himself sitting next to a distinguished Chinese surgeon, Dr. Wu Yingkai, at a medical convention. Because of his Chinese language studies, President Nelson was able to have a conversation with Dr. Wu. From there, the two doctors formed a lasting friendship and even visited each other’s countries.
President Nelson’s goal to learn Mandarin led to positive exchanges with China, as President Kimball had hoped for. After he was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, President Nelson even performed his last heart surgery on China’s most famous opera singer by special request.

I observed a marvelous display of obedience during a recent visit to a large cattle ranch in Argentina. Early one morning, the gauchos brought forty horses into a corral to select their mounts for the day. Gauchos are like cowboys in the United States. Each gaucho went into the corral and whistled softly like this [whistling]. This established their presence. When the horses heard the soft whistling, they lined up quickly near the fence, facing the gauchos. The horses held their heads high, kept their eyes constantly on their masters, and kept their ears forward in an alert, receptive stance. They gave complete attention and appeared to be anxious to serve. They quickly organized themselves into a line as if for a full military dress inspection or review. The gauchos stepped back out of the way and whistled again. The horses circled quickly to the other side of the corral and lined up facing the gauchos. They looked as if a drill sergeant had called them to attention. Each gaucho chose his mount for the day’s work and walked up to the horse he had selected. The others stayed in line waiting for their assignments.
When I asked how the gauchos taught the horses to be so obedient, I was informed that their training started when the horses were colts. Each one learned from its caring mother and from other mature horses. The gauchos began training the colts when they were young, with kindness, never using force of a lasso or a whip.
Watching this display of obedience, I thought of you Aaronic Priesthood brethren and how you are taught by your mothers, like the two thousand stripling sons of Helaman, and by caring fathers and priesthood leaders. I thought of you following their good example, disciplining yourselves, and keeping yourselves alert—willing to serve your Lord and Master as He chooses and calls you.

Two parallel episodes related by his eternal companion, Ruth, are especially illustrative.
The first concerns his initial call in 1972 to be a General Authority: “We had a special family home evening, including the only grandchild back then. Jim went around the circle and told the children what was unique about them and how they were special individually. Then he told them about his call, stressing that if he were not a good father, he could not succeed as a General Authority, adding, ‘I am never going to be released from my calling as a father or a grandfather.’”
In the second episode, when he was called to be in the First Presidency, President Faust did the very same thing! In 1995 the teaching involved 22 grandchildren and ended with President Faust’s saying again how very important they all were to him and that he couldn’t succeed as a member of the First Presidency if he wasn’t a good father. Sister Faust further observed, “This is the kind of person he has been all of his life. Family and loved ones have come first!”

It is important for all of us to remember that we can learn both from the teachings of the Brethren and from the examples of their lives. Given the majestic vision of the future growth of the Church articulated by the Prophet Joseph Smith, please now consider the power of his personal example in the performance of routine and mundane but necessary tasks. George A. Smith described in his journal the reaction of the Prophet to the daily challenges of the march to Missouri.
“The Prophet Joseph took a full share of the fatigues of the entire journey. In addition to the care of providing for the Camp and presiding over it, he walked most of the time and had a full proportion of blistered, bloody and sore feet. … But during the entire trip he never uttered a murmur or complaint, while most of the men in the Camp complained to him of sore toes, blistered feet, long drives, scanty supply of provisions, poor quality of bread, bad corn dodger, frouzy butter, strong honey, maggoty bacon and cheese, etc., even a dog could not bark at some men without their murmuring at Joseph. If they had to camp with bad water it would nearly cause rebellion, yet we were the Camp of Zion, and many of us were prayerless, thoughtless, careless, heedless, foolish or devilish, and yet we did not know it. Joseph had to bear with us and tutor us, like children.”12

I had the good fortune to be introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints through a friend. I was taught by missionaries who were called by God to bring the light of the gospel to the world. Two years after my baptism I was called to serve in the Italy Milan Mission. Before I left, I had a profound spiritual experience.
My parents, who were not members of the Church, didn’t share my joy in this missionary opportunity. We had terrible arguments that caused me much suffering.
Two days before I left on my mission, both my parents suddenly became seriously ill. My mother had a health crisis for which she was hospitalized. Nothing the doctors tried seemed to help. My father had cirrhosis of the liver, from which the doctors said it would be difficult to recover.
That evening I knelt and prayed to my Heavenly Father, saying, “Father, help me. My family is sick, and I can’t leave them in these circumstances. I pray, Father, help me know whether it’s right to leave or stay.”
I meditated on my situation for a few minutes. Then I felt a subtle but penetrating voice that said, “Have faith, and everything will work out for the best.”
Notwithstanding the sorrow I felt in seeing my family in poor health, I decided to get on the airplane that would take me to Rome and then to the United States, where I attended the missionary training center. My nights at the MTC were not happy. I thought over and over again about my parents. Finally, with the approval of the MTC president, I was able to call them to see how they were doing.
On the phone, my mother told me with great joy that she and my father had had a miracle from the Lord—words I never would have expected to hear from a woman without a lot of faith. She told me that after I left, their health had improved, and the doctors couldn’t explain it. My parents were healthy and happy. My joy was full.
Through this experience, my testimony of the power of faith, prayer, and obedience grew. I am grateful that the Lord took care of my family during my mission.

Later in the week my school held a dance. Even though they used the clean versions of popular dance songs, many people in my grade began screaming out the removed word in one particular song.
Once again I felt uncomfortable. The teachers were sitting nearby and didn’t seem to notice. I looked down at my wrist. I saw my bracelet from youth conference that said, “Stand ye in holy places, and be not moved (D&C 87:8).”
I knew that where I was standing wasn’t a holy place, so I left until a new song came on.
I know that music can have a profound influence in our lives. I know that listening to the inspirational music on my MP3 player a couple days before had helped give me the courage I needed to leave the dance. These experiences helped me get much closer to my Heavenly Father.

As a teen I studied in a technical school for young men. It was hard to be a member of the Church in an atmosphere where there were other beliefs or no beliefs at all. Being the only member in school was difficult because I felt alone; I felt different. My classmates were relatively good, but many didn’t share my principles.
I remember well one time when they wanted to get me to smoke. They didn’t say it directly. Instead, one of them lit a cigarette while we were in our classroom waiting for the professor. We weren’t supposed to smoke inside the school.
I was sitting in the back. The guys at the front of the room lit the cigarette, and they each took a puff and passed it on. Everyone was watching to see it get to me. Finally the guy in front of me took a puff and turned around.
I didn’t take the cigarette.
He said, “Come on. Go ahead.”
“No, I’m not going to smoke.”
He took the cigarette and put it to my mouth. So I hit him. He hit me back. Then almost everyone in the room started to fight, though we quickly calmed down before the professor got there.
Now I’m not saying that was the right way to respond, but I was only 13. I didn’t know how to respond. I just knew no one was going to make me smoke.
After class I found the boy I had hit and asked his forgiveness. With some emotion, he told me, “No, I’m the one who needs to ask your forgiveness.”