Gospel Story Finder

“When President Russell M. Nelson announced the temple for Puerto Rico, I was alone in my room, watching General Conference, and the emotion was so great that I cried, I thanked Heavenly Father for answering my forty-year prayer.” expresses María del Carmen Carrasco Caraballo, from the Ponce 1st Ward, Ponce Puerto Rico Stake.

Although due to the COVID-19 pandemic the work was stopped in March 2020, they felt confident that everything would be resolved. “I clung, with all my heart, to the knowledge that God’s timing is perfect, and I felt peace,” says Sister Carrasco Caraballo, happy that the work was resumed in May of that same year.

Sister María del Carmen Carrasco, from the Ponce Puerto Rico Stake, along with a group of her from her Ponce 1st Ward, are preparing in the Santo Domingo Temple and have been set apart to serve as ordinance workers in the temple in her country.

“After forty years of waiting for this great blessing, our sights are on the temple and the ordinances that are performed there. Our goal is to be able to serve in the Puerto Rico Temple,” she says.

While the temple is being built, this sister has focused on teaching Primary children the importance of family history and temple work for a Latter-day Saint. On the other hand, she has increased the search for data to strengthen her family history and strives every day to stay worthy to enter the House of the Lord.

In one of my stake conference assignments in the Salt Lake Valley, I invited a young deacons quorum president to join me to talk about the keys of the priesthood. I wanted him to understand that he held a very special office that included the keys to preside over a quorum of the priesthood. We talked about the great responsibility it is to hold keys and how special it is to belong to a quorum. At the conclusion of the little presentation, I asked him how many members he had in his quorum. His answer was 14.
Then the question: “How many are active?”
The answer: “12.”
Then I asked, “What about the other two?”
His response was, “I need to get to work and make them an active part of our quorum.”
I asked him how long that would take. He thought maybe three months. I encouraged him in his efforts.
Three months later, almost to the day, I received a letter from him informing me that all the members of his quorum were now active. He said he had befriended them, and one was now attending deacons quorum meetings, and the other had been ordained a teacher by the bishop. I was overwhelmed with his response. What an example of one honoring his priesthood and using priesthood keys to carry out an assignment the Lord has given him to fulfill. I could not help but marvel at the design the Lord has established for the administration of His work here on earth using the powers of the priesthood.

Things had not gone smoothly that morning. Getting my fifteen-month-old and my new baby ready to go anywhere was still an adjustment for me. I was relieved to see a parking space right across the street from the medical clinic. With a little luck I would still be on time for the baby’s first check-up.
It wasn’t easy to climb out of our small car and cross the street with a diaper bag, a baby in an infant seat, and a toddler who was just taking her first steps alone. As we prepared to cross the street I noticed our car was very close to the driveway of the house we had parked in front of. I saw a curtain move and a face peering out, but I quickly turned away. “It’s not fair,” I reasoned; “I’ve had to rush around all morning and all she’s had to do is look out the window daring someone to park too close to her driveway.”
The long wait in the waiting room, my fussy baby, and my restless toddler all made me feel even more frustrated when I emerged from the clinic an hour later. Just as I was about to cross the street, the woman, about seventy years old, came rushing out of her house. All my morning’s frustration came to the surface; expecting harsh words from her, I felt I would either burst into tears or explode in anger.
Then it happened. Her words astonished me. “You poor little dear,” she said. “I’ve been watching for you. I was mad at myself for not coming out to help you when you drove up. Let me help you to your car. You’ve really got your hands full.”
Tears filled my eyes as I realized how quickly and how wrongly I had judged her. I had let my unhappy attitude determine the way I viewed her.
Since then, when tempted to judge someone’s motives, I remember that woman’s actions and try to expect the best.

Some bore tender testimonies. Let me share just two. Sister Guadalupe, a nonmember, lost everything. Then in the shelter of a little room in our chapel, she gave birth to a baby boy. She stated that the Lord had helped her escape. She learned that everything of the world is temporary and can be lost. She thanked the branch and the Church for opening its doors to her and for the assistance she received.

Searching for a great idea for a youth conference? The Aurora Colorado Stake has a suggestion.
Work.
Hard work.
Like shoveling gravel, digging dirt, weeding, painting, washing cars.
Mixed with fun and fellowship.
There’s an explanation. The young people from Aurora wanted to do something different for their youth conference, something special. So they spent three days cleaning up a city.
“We asked the stake youth committee what they wanted to do,” explained Richard C. Humpherys, second counselor in the stake presidency. “They said, ‘something to help someone else,’ and ‘something to build our testimonies.’ Since they asked for it, we encouraged them to go ahead.”
Inspired by a story on service in the Tambuli (see “Building a House Helped Build Testimonies,” February 1988, page 47), the youth committee looked around for a community they could help. They settled on Granby for three reasons: it was close to Aurora; economically the community wasn’t doing very well; and the mayor, town council, and chamber of commerce seemed genuinely interested in providing projects for the youth to work on.
There was an added benefit, too. The small Latter-day Saint branch in Granby, with a total of five active families, had youth who would welcome some company and fellowship with other Church youth. And, while the young people from Aurora were there, it was decided, they could help paint the Granby chapel.
Buses left Aurora at 7:00 on a Thursday morning. By 10:30 A.M., eighty-four young people divided into eight teams were busy all over Granby. Since they were all wearing identical T-shirts, they were fairly conspicuous. And a local radio station advertising the Latter-day Saint youth’s free car wash also let people know who they were and what they were doing.
Besides cleaning up the main street of Granby, washing cars, tidying the cemetery, spreading gravel at the train depot, and chopping weeds at a main intersection on the highway into town, the youth painted the city’s historic log church, landscaped its grounds, and polished the benches and the organ inside.
And of course, that’s very much what the youth were saying over at the chapel.
The Granby youth and the youth from Aurora did everything at the conference together, not only the service projects, but the other activities as well. They played volleyball together. They played football together. They even played soccer with an oversized ball.
Activities included a Hawaiian-style dinner with a floor show, a swimming party, and a dance. But the main activity was conversation, a sharing of ideals and fellowship.
Over the three-day period, the youth from Granby and the youth from Aurora grew comfortable discussing common goals—missionary work, reading and sharing the Book of Mormon, morality and standards, maintaining faith when the world’s full of doubt. That closeness was also reinforced at nightly devotionals, where leaders stressed themes such as “Little Decisions Made Now Have Big Consequences Later,” “Gospel Suggestions on How to Be Happy,” and “Your Most Important Possession is Your Testimony.”
But of course, as it always is, the final meeting of the conference was the highlight. In a sunlit room, the Latter-day Saint youth met Granby’s mayor, Jerry Roberts. The presented him with framed historical photographs of Granby, which now hang in the train station, and with a Book of Mormon, which they hope he will read. They listened while he expressed the community’s gratitude.
Then the youth and their leaders spent an hour or two talking to each other, speaking from the heart.
Of course, as they talked, the youth also offered an evaluation of their three days of service.
Then the president of the Granby Branch, Gary M. Cooper, spoke.
“The branch was formed fifteen years ago, he said, “and I can honestly say that this is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. We appreciate that you took the time to come here and bring us into the limelight in our Community. It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a long time. You did a lot of work and you cleaned up the community, and that’s important. But what I really hope is that because of your example, someone will accept the gospel. That would be the greatest service of all.”

Brother and Sister Tsuya were well known for two things. First was the haircuts Brother Tsuya would give the missionaries.
The other thing the Tsuyas were known for was their incredible love and mission spirit. They spoke no Portuguese and spoke English with a thick accent. But they would take a box of copies of the Book of Mormon they bought with their own money to the fruit fair on the street each week and would always come back empty-handed. Their spirit was incredibly powerful.
One transfer day I had the chance to talk to Brother Tsuya. I found out that he had joined the Church in Hawaii. I told him that my grandfather had served a mission in Hawaii and was there during the attack on Pearl Harbor. Brother Tsuya was very surprised and said he had joined the Church then but didn’t remember an Elder Squire. I told him that it was my mom’s father, Elder Thurgood, who had served in Hawaii.
Brother Tsuya almost fell out of his chair and yelled out “Elder Thurgood is your grandpa?” He related the story of their meeting. He said while he was eating a meal in the Hawaiian community style, he was being inappropriate and was taking the Lord’s name in vain among other things. A missionary, my grandfather, had spoken up and asked him to stop. Brother Tsuya said he took the name of the Lord in vain again. He said that my grandpa had come over to him, hit him on the shoulder, and lectured him about how little he knew about life, how he wasn’t as smart as he thought, how he needed to quit smoking and do a bunch of things differently or he wouldn’t ever amount to anything.
Brother Tsuya told me that when he went home that night, he knew my grandpa was right. He thought about it and decided he wanted to make some changes. He ran into two similarly dressed missionaries a couple of weeks later and listened to the discussions with a sincere desire to change. Brother Tsuya gave much of the credit for his decision to listen to the missionaries to my grandpa.
I quickly wrote home telling my family I had huge news and that Grandpa Thurgood needed to be there when I made my telephone call at Christmas. When I called home, I finally told him that I had met somebody he brought into the Church. I will always remember how quiet he became as he said, “Ryan, you are mistaken. I never brought anybody into the Church on my mission.”
I asked him if he remembered hitting a smart-aleck Japanese kid at dinner in Hawaii and then lecturing him on how much he needed to change his life. He became instantly curious and said that he did remember the incident well. He was transferred away shortly after that and hadn’t heard more.
I told him that two weeks later that boy had decided to listen to the discussions because of what you said to him that night. He had later married in the temple in Hawaii. He had served in various callings in the Church and blessed many, many lives. He served as a mission president in Japan for three years. He also served as president of the MTC in Japan. He had served multiple missions with his wife.
My Grandpa Thurgood was in tears and couldn’t talk to me after that. He had spent over 50 years thinking his mission hadn’t made a difference to anybody. When the Tsuyas completed their mission in Brazil, my grandpa and his wife went to the temple with them and had a tearful reunion.

In 1972, Jirí was called to be the presiding elder of the Church in Czechoslovakia and was asked to renew Church activity as much as possible. In 1975, a district was created, and Jirí was set apart as its president. For many years, Jirí and Olga and their children spent their summer vacations traveling around the country, locating, visiting, and strengthening members. Often they would find only one person; other times they would meet with a group of five or six members gathered in a home. When Church officials from outside Czechoslovakia were able to obtain visas, Jirí accompanied them on their visits around the country.

Between visits, written correspondence “was executed very carefully,” he says. “We worked out an information system interspersed in our letters so the secret police, who censored all my mail—-both overseas and domestic, couldn’t find out what was happening. It was very difficult for somebody uninitiated to see the meaning of our letters.”

Those were busy—though quiet—years for Czechoslovak Church leaders and members. “We weren’t idle!” Brother Snederfler says. Since they couldn’t officially get materials from Church headquarters into Czechoslovakia, they worked quietly and tirelessly to share with one another whatever printed Church material anyone could get their hands on. They translated Church hymns, handbooks, and manuals, finished a translation and review of the Doctrine and Covenants and scriptural commentaries, and transcribed speeches given at district conferences.

Then they typed all of these materials on old typewriters with nine carbon copies at a time. Each of the nine recipients would, in turn, make an additional nine carbon copies and hand-deliver them to others. In this way, Church materials were disseminated to members and families wherever they lived.

At all times, the members knew they were running the risk of severe consequences if they were caught with Church literature. “Our home was searched by the authorities,” says Jirí, “but they never found anything. We had many places to hide things.” And the risk was worth it. “These materials helped the members study and gain the greatest knowledge possible,” he says. “It was glorious work—preparing all of us for the time we would again be able to worship freely and openly in public.”

Although for many years the Czechoslovak Saints had no contact with members at Church headquarters or around the world—and little contact among themselves—“we never felt alone,” says Brother Snederfler. “God is above. I always felt that we were part of the larger family of Church members in the whole world.”

Many of these experiences would not have been as powerful had it not been for the background and history of the people and places provided by our guides, Yosie and Dov. They stayed with us wherever we went, and after three weeks our impact on them seemed to be equally as important. Yosie said, “When you sing, I am at peace.”

Dov became our translator in concerts, and at first, he only repeated what Dr. Woodward said. However, by the end of our tour, he was taking almost 20 minutes telling our audiences about the Mormons. He explained that we don’t drink coffee, tea, or alcohol. He talked about Joseph Smith and the gospel. He was bearing testimony without knowing it! His last words to us were, “I am a Jew and will always be Jewish, but there is a light about you that I don’t quite understand.” As he reads and studies the Book of Mormon, we pray he will come to understand more about that light.

My wife and I have discovered that Scandinavia is a beautiful land filled with people of great ability and promise. Our family has a special interest in Denmark. It is the ancestral home of my wife’s great-great-grandparents. These ancestors came from Aalborg, Veeborg, Vila, and Presta. One of her great-great-grandfathers was Jens Christian Johansen. He was born in Frederikssund in Jutland in 1832. We have been privileged to read his journal, and we have become more appreciative of the rich spiritual heritage we enjoy as a result of this righteous Danish ancestor.
Jens Johansen was an industrious man. He had grown up in poverty and had prayed that his children would not be required to go begging for food as he had done as a young man. He took a job at an early age. He worked as a stable boy. He learned to farm and to make wooden shoes. His integrity and ambition as a worker enabled him to purchase a farm in Hormesta in 1857. It was at this time that the missionaries came to Grandfather Johansen and his family. He accepted the restored gospel with the same enthusiasm and dedication that had characterized his working endeavors. He worked hard trying to help the Church increase in numbers and influence in his community. Church meetings were often held in his home. At that time there was the desire among many Scandinavians to immigrate to Utah. And Jens Johansen had this same desire. Since he couldn’t go himself, he sent his three daughters in advance. In one year they had earned enough money to help their parents to follow them. He called this a miracle.
Jens discovered that his Danish talents of thrift and industry were assets in his new homeland. It was not long before he bought a small farm and erected a home on it for his family. He located in Elsinore, Utah. Grandfather Johansen’s faith in the Lord enabled him to deal successfully with hardships and challenges. It allowed him to live an enjoyable life. He enjoyed music. He loved to sing and to play the accordion. He liked to speak in Church meetings. He records that his favorite meetings were the ones spoken in Danish. He stated that they were “spoken loud enough so we could all hear and say amen.” He couldn’t understand why those speaking English always mumbled so no one could understand. He took pride in the labor of his hands. His skills were often sought after by his associates. He would willingly provide help to those in need, and he gratefully acknowledged the contributions others made toward his own comfort and happiness.

One night when the elders came to the Cantos home, Pedrito was unusually ill. The elders felt prompted to discuss the principle of priesthood administrations. The family eagerly sought a blessing for Pedrito, who was so thin you could see the bones under his skin. Up until then, he had been unable to tolerate any food except milk. He could neither walk nor talk, and he rarely slept more than an hour or two at a time.

The elders administered to the child and left the house with a strong feeling that he would recover.

From that time on, Pedrito began to improve. The Cantos family were baptized, and the welfare services missionaries helped Sister Cantos get Pedrito started on solid foods. He began to gain weight, and for the first time in his life, he slept through the night. He also learned to walk and talk. The frequent, costly trips to Guayaquil were no longer necessary.

As an eleventh-grader (in a school system that has 12 grades) at Washington-Lee High School in Arlington, Virginia, Karen was very angry to find a derogatory portrayal of the Prophet Joseph and the Church in her history book. It described Joseph Smith as a farmer who moved from place to place digging for buried treasure. She pointed out the inaccuracies to her teacher who responded by asking if she would like to give a class presentation on early Church history. Karen was afraid but accepted. She got out her fifth-grade report. With the addition of the Joseph Smith story and a few other items, it was just the right thing. As it turned out it took the whole class period. The teacher right away asked Karen to repeat the report in his afternoon class. There were dozens of thoughtful questions which led to the missionaries being invited to explain more.

A student at our school, Becca (name has been changed), was scheduled to undergo surgery to remove a cancerous brain tumor. My friend Fede and I wanted to find something special the whole school could do for Becca. I remembered a Japanese tradition involving the folding of 1,000 origami cranes to show support for people in need, and I thought it was something we could do for Becca. We went to the headmaster for approval and then picked up piles of multicolored paper.
We had only two days until Becca’s surgery, but we didn’t let that stop us. That night I learned how to fold origami cranes and started to cut paper squares—hundreds of them!
The next day we announced the project to the school and invited everyone to make a crane for Becca. The entire school, including the faculty, came together to contribute. It was incredible to see.
After two days, we had over 1,000 paper cranes. We threaded them on strings and packaged them in a box, which Fede and I took to Becca at the hospital. She could feel the happiness and love that had been put into making each crane.
While leading this project, I learned that even a small gesture can show people you’re thinking about them and can make a difference. And when many people stand with you, the impact grows exponentially. I also learned that if you have a purpose, those around you can help you reach your goal. When we raised our voice and asked for people to lend a hand, many jumped at the opportunity.
Clara H., Nova Scotia, Canada

Like the time Grandpa got real sick and had to go to the hospital. Everyone fasted and prayed for him, including Eugene. He climbed up into his quiet place and prayed for a whole hour.
Two weeks later, Eugene’s father lay in the tree house and cried. Eugene heard him because he was there, too. Everyone was happy because although the doctor had said that Grandpa was going to die, he got better. Eugene climbed up into the tree and lay close to his father. Neither of them spoke. At least not out loud. They were busy thanking Heavenly Father in their hearts, warm tears trickling down their faces.
After a while, Eugene asked his father why he had come to the tree instead of staying at the house with everyone else. “Everyone needs a quiet place where they can go to be alone sometimes. Even grown-ups. I don’t have one,” he said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I came up here for a few minutes.”
Eugene was happy that his father thought having a quiet place was important.
“Besides,” his father added with a wink, “with Aunt Althea at the house to greet your grandpa coming home from the hospital, it’s a bit noisy there. I needed a moment alone to thank the Lord for your granddad’s recovery.”
A few moments later, Eugene walked back to the house with his father. The back screen door whined as they joined the others. Eugene paused to look back over his shoulder at the old tree. It was like an old friend—warm, inviting, peaceful. And always there when he needed it. He smiled, went inside, gave Aunt Althea a big hug, then hurried over to Grandpa’s bed.

I’m aware of a man who was involved in moral transgressions several years ago. For some time, this man felt too ashamed and too worried to approach his wife and his priesthood leaders. He wanted to fully repent but actually expressed that he was willing to give up his own eternal salvation rather than put his spouse and children through the sorrow, shame, or other consequences that might be caused by his confession.

Finally, this dear man confessed to his faithful wife and his Church leaders, expressing deep remorse. Though it was the most difficult thing he had ever done, feelings of relief, peace, gratitude, love for our Savior, and a knowledge that the Lord was lifting his heavy burden and carrying him caused joy beyond expression, regardless of the outcome and his future.

He had been certain that his wife and children would be devastated—and they were; and that there would be disciplinary action and a release from his calling—and there was. He was certain that his wife would be brokenhearted, hurt, and angry—and she was. And he was convinced that she would leave, taking the children with her—but she didn’t.

Sometimes serious transgression leads to divorce, and depending on circumstances, that might be necessary. But to this man’s amazement, his wife embraced him and dedicated herself to helping him in any way that she could. Over time, she was able to fully forgive him. She had felt the healing power of the Savior’s Atonement for her. Years later, this couple and their three children are strong and faithful. The husband and wife serve in the temple and have a wonderful, loving marriage. The depth of this man’s testimony and his love and gratitude for the Savior are so evident in his life.

At about the same time—by chance, or so I thought—my younger daughter convinced me to allow some scientists from Logan, Utah, to stay with us. They were in Russia to install equipment on the space station Mir. We became good friends, and every time they came to Moscow, they stayed with us.

They distracted me from my grief, but they were aware of my sorrow. Seeing my tears, Gail Bingham, one of the scientists, tried to comfort me: “Why are you crying?” he asked. “What can you do now? Don’t you know that God has taken your husband to be with him? Your husband was such an intelligent, good person—you will certainly see him again.”

Although I do not speak English very well, when he spoke about God, I understood everything he said.
Brother Bingham soon sent the missionaries to visit me. At first their prayers and testimonies seemed strange to me, and my interest in them was simply motherly concern. I thought of their mothers—what they must be experiencing having sent their sons and daughters to our cold Russia, so far from home. I wanted to feed and warm them.
As it turned out, the missionaries were not the ones who needed help—I was. I had lived my entire life without a real knowledge of God and his Son, and I was afraid to open my heart. But gradually, over the period of a year as the missionaries continued to teach me and as I began to attend church weekly, I turned more and more to God. The burden of my loss was eased.
Finally, on 10 December 1995, Brother Bingham baptized me. Now I know that although we may experience heartache and difficulties, such as the death of a loved one, the Lord gives us the strength to endure such difficulties. That strength, for me, is the faith that comes through finally having the Lord in my life—and the knowledge that through temple ordinances I can be with my husband again.

I once visited a mission in southern Europe. I arrived on the day a new missionary was preparing to return home at his own insistence. He had his ticket to leave the next day.
We sat together in the mission president’s home. The missionary told me about his challenging childhood, of learning disorders, of moving from one family to another. He spoke sincerely of his inability to learn a new language and adapt to a new culture. Then he added, “Brother Andersen, I don’t even know if God loves me.” As he said those words, I felt a sure and forceful feeling come into my spirit: “He does know I love him. He knows it.”
I let him continue for a few more minutes, and then I said, “Elder, I’m sympathetic to much of what you’ve said, but I must correct you on one thing: you do know God loves you. You know He does.”
As I said those words to him, the same Spirit that had spoken to me spoke to him. He bowed his head and began to cry. He apologized. “Brother Andersen,” he said, “I do know God loves me; I do know it.” He didn’t know everything, but he knew enough. He knew God loved him. That priceless piece of spiritual knowledge was sufficient for his doubt to be replaced with faith. He found the strength to stay on his mission.

Providing that environment can sometimes tax one’s preparation. I recall vividly the time when one of our children, then a first-grader, came bursting into the kitchen to tell me of a new word he had just learned. It was a hard and adult word, but he was so proudly spelling and pronouncing it. Yet, when he spelled it one letter was wrong. As I look back, I am not sure why I did not correct him. Perhaps I thought it wouldn’t matter for the moment. He went from the kitchen to where his father was studying and told him his new word. His father explained the error and corrected it.

Our son came back to me and asked, “Mother, why didn’t you tell me it was wrong?” I didn’t have a very good answer that day, but I had a good lesson. I learned how much it does matter, and that children depend upon mothers to tell them what is wrong—what is wrong and right about words, about life, and about the world with which they are trying to cope. I think it is not possible for a mother to be overtrained for her role.

“As parents of five, we are teaching our children to recognize their missionary opportunities,” says Laura F. Nielsen of the Cupertino Ward, Saratoga California Stake. “Every week in family home evening we take a few minutes to discuss what opportunities each family member had during the previous seven days to be a missionary and how each person responded to them.” As a family, the Nielsens discuss different options for handling those situations.
As a result, family members are learning what constitutes a missionary opportunity. For example, they have learned to refer to the Church by its full name rather than a nickname. One of the children gave a school report on Church history. Another shared his excitement about being baptized when schoolteachers wished him a happy eighth birthday.
Occasionally a family member will admit that he or she missed or ignored a missionary opportunity, and this gives the family a chance to talk about what happened and learn to take better advantage of a similar opportunity in the future. “Family enthusiasm helps us overcome embarrassment or laziness,” Sister Nielsen says. “Our children now actively look for opportunities on their own and eagerly report to the family for feedback. By helping each other this way, we are growing in our own capacity to share the gospel.”

I had never failed a class until Popularity 101. I didn’t know such a class existed or that I was even enrolled until the grades started coming in: kind of nerdy, jokes aren’t funny, uncoordinated, goofy hair, and so on.
The problem with this class is that there’s no teacher, there’s no textbook or study material, and the grading is based entirely on the opinions of your peers. In the beginning I didn’t even know what popularity was. All I knew was others had it; I did not.
The grading got tougher at age 13, when I began junior high school. Apparently, there wasn’t anything cool about me. I was becoming desperate. I was ready to do anything to be accepted. In my math class, I saw popular kids cheating on homework. Everyone was doing it. It seemed a small price to pay to be part of the group.
“Are you cheating?” asked Curtis, the student next to me.
“No,” I lied, amazed at how easily one dishonesty followed another.
I realized two things at that moment. First, “everyone’s doing it” is a poor excuse. What I was doing was wrong no matter who was doing it. Second, not “everyone’s doing it.” Curtis wasn’t cheating, and he had lots of friends.
I started watching Curtis. I tried sitting next to him when we had classes together. He didn’t swear; he didn’t cheat; he didn’t lie; he didn’t make fun of other people. This guy was straight out of the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. I wanted to be just like him.
Then one day something amazing happened.
It was lunchtime, the worst part of the day. “Cafeteria” was just another name for “Popularity Exam Room.” As I was once again faced with choosing to sit alone or to sit with people who challenged my standards, Curtis invited me to sit with him. His friends accepted me.
I’m convinced that single act saved me. While many of those I could have hung around with passed Popularity 101, many of them are in danger of failing life—having chosen paths that led them into serious problems such as addictions to tobacco, drugs, or pornography.
Through Curtis, I learned I could have fun and keep high standards. I learned that doing what’s right is cool. And I learned a secret about popularity—it’s Satan’s counterfeit for true friendship.
There’s nothing wrong with having friends; what’s important is how we go about gaining them. Popularity 101 (the world’s way) teaches to focus on yourself and what you have to do to be accepted by others—whether it’s swearing, drinking, smoking, or in my case cheating. True friendship (the Lord’s way) teaches to focus on others, to lift them so they feel accepted by you. This is accomplished through love, kindness, sincerity, and, like Curtis, having the Spirit so others feel comfortable around you.
Curtis and his friends weren’t enrolled in Popularity 101; they were enrolled in Living the Gospel. This class has all sorts of helpful textbooks—the scriptures, Church magazines, For the Strength of Youth. Classes are offered at general conference, in seminary, and every Sunday at church. There’s a tutor who will work with you anytime—the Holy Ghost. Best of all, this class is graded by a loving Savior.
I still flunked Popularity 101. But thanks to some guys who had learned to love others as themselves, I’m now studying with the Master Teacher so I can pass life.

“It just doesn’t seem like Christmas this year,” Porter said. He dropped his backpack on a kitchen chair. “There’s no snow. And I don’t have any friends here.”
“Well, we can’t change the weather,” Mom said. She gave him a hug. “And I know moving has been hard for you.”
“I just wish I had some friends,” Porter said. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.
“What’s that?” Mom asked.
“It’s about a food drive at school.”
“Let me see,” she said, handing him a cup of hot chocolate. “Maybe if you help with the food drive, you can meet some new people and make friends.”
“Maybe.”
Porter grabbed a handful of marshmallows and started dropping them into his cup one by one.
“Really,” Mom said. “I bet there’s a way to make friends and help people feel the Christmas spirit.”
Porter wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking about his friends in his old neighborhood.
“Remember when we did the lemonade stand with Anne?” he said. “I wish we could do that again.” Plop. Plop. Plop. He added three more marshmallows. “But nobody wants to drink lemonade in December, even if there isn’t any snow.”
“Maybe they’d like to drink something warm instead.”
“Like hot chocolate …” Porter glanced at his cup. “I know! We could have a hot chocolate stand!”
Mom smiled. “Let’s do it.”
Porter looked at the food drive flyer.
“What if we asked people for a can of food instead of money?” Porter said. “Then we could donate the food to the food drive.”
“A cup of cocoa for a can of food,” Mom said. “I like it.”
They went right to work. Mom made sure they had plenty of hot chocolate, disposable cups, and marshmallows. Together they made flyers and gave them to all of their neighbors. On Saturday morning the Cup-for-a-Can Cocoa Stand was open. And it was busy.
“That man just handed me 10 cans of food for one cup of hot chocolate!” Porter said to Mom. “I’ve met lots of people, and they’re all really friendly.”
Soon he had stacked more than a hundred cans of food on a table next to the cocoa!
“I can’t wait to tell Anne about this,” Porter said. “This is even better than the lemonade stand. Maybe she’ll do hot chocolate too.”
“I’m proud of you,” Mom said. “You found a way to meet people and help others too.”
“It feels more like Christmas now,” Porter said. “Even without the snow.”