Gospel Story Finder

Mark combed his hair carefully. His baseball heroes seemed to look on with approval from the posters covering his bedroom walls.
“Everyone into the van,” Mom called from downstairs. “We don’t want to be late for church.”
Mark put down his comb and turned to leave. He stopped short. Staring him straight in the eye from the picture on his bedroom door was another of his heroes—Captain Moroni. I almost forgot! he said to himself. He went back and grabbed his scriptures from under a stack of baseball cards.
Brother Barton, Mark’s Primary teacher, was really cool. He’d returned from his mission a year ago and often told them, “Brethren (he always called them brethren), before you know it, you’ll be on your missions. Studying the scriptures is a great way to prepare.” Brother Barton made scripture study fun, and Mark especially loved reading the Book of Mormon.
A brisk hot breeze ruffled his hair as he climbed into the van. As it slowly went down the gravel driveway, Mom observed, “Everything’s so dry.” Through the open window, Mark could hear the tall, straw-like grass rattle nervously in the wind. Even the manzanita bushes and oak trees looked thirsty. In the summer, wildfires were a way of life in their rural area, but this year, after several dry winters, the fire danger was extremely high.
“It looks like there’s a fire over in Acorn Valley,” Dad said. Mark turned and spotted the thin, black feather of smoke.
“The firefighters are well trained,” Mom said confidently. “They’ll have it out before long.”
But by the time they got to the meetinghouse, the smoke plume had grown much wider. Mark became more and more alarmed as he heard bits and pieces of anxious conversations in the foyer:
“This wind is spreading the fire …”
“… having trouble controlling …”
“… alerting crews from all over …”
As Mark stepped into the classroom, Brother Barton smiled at him, and Mark relaxed a little.
After the opening prayer, Brother Barton said, “Let’s turn to 3 Nephi 13:21.” [3 Ne. 13:21] He waited until everyone had found the right place, then read, “‘For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.’”
He closed his scriptures. “After Lehi and his family left their home in Jerusalem, the Lord told Lehi to have his sons return. Why?”
“To get the brass plates,” one of the boys answered.
“Right. The brass plates contained scriptures and their genealogy,” Brother Barton explained. “The plates were a precious treasure to Lehi’s family. They gave up their gold and silver and even risked their lives to get them.” He looked right at Mark as he asked, “Brethren, how about you? What’s important to you?”
As Mark thought of his baseball cards and his mitt, Brother Barton continued, “Are the things of the world more important to you than the things of the spirit? Brethren, where is your heart? What is your treasure?”
On the way to sacrament meeting, Mark was still thinking about what his teacher had said. What is my treasure? Then he noticed the concerned faces of the people in the half-full chapel. Tensing up, he remembered the fire and found it very hard to concentrate.
After the sacrament, the bishop was handed a note. “The wind has shifted,” he somberly announced, “and the fire is now threatening Wildwood Acres.” There were a few gasps. Mark knew many of the ward members lived in that community. And it wasn’t far from his own home!
“We’ll dismiss early today, brothers and sisters. For those who need it, an evacuation center will be set up here at the church.”
Evacuate! A couple of weeks ago, Mom had given a family home evening lesson on being prepared for emergencies. Mark thought of the hours he, his dad, and his brothers had spent clearing a thirty-foot strip of weeds from around their house. Would it be enough to save their home if the fire kept spreading?
Mark’s family hurried out to the van. The smoke now billowed like a black thundercloud in the distance. Airplanes heavy with fire retardant roared overhead. Fire engines screamed past them.
On the radio came the report: “The fire has already burned through hundreds of acres, and several homes have been lost.” No one in the van had much to say.
As they turned onto their street, they were stopped by a roadblock. The highway patrol car’s lights were flashing alarmingly. Walking over to the van, a uniformed officer spoke to dad. “This area’s been evacuated, sir.” Mark’s stomach muscles tightened even more. He could hear the wail of sirens echoing through the valley.
“But we live just three houses down,” Dad told him.
The officer hesitated, looked at his watch, and said, “We can give you twenty minutes to get what you can out of your home, but then you’ll have to leave.”
Dad’s face was grim as he drove past the roadblock. “Do you all remember what you were assigned to save in an emergency?” Everyone nodded. “If there’s still time after we get the essential things out, you can each fill a small box with whatever you want to take.”
The moment the van screeched to a stop, everyone dashed for the front door. The smoke-filled air made breathing unpleasant. Just over the hill, flames like the tongues of a dozen dragons licked the horizon.
Working quickly, the family loaded financial papers, family records, journals, and photo albums into the van. They added their 72-hour emergency kit from the house to the one already in the car, sleeping bags, extra changes of clothes, and additional food. Mark carefully wrapped the old family Bible in a towel and placed it in the van, then he grabbed an empty box and sprinted to his room.
What should he take? The words of the scripture kept repeating in his mind: “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” He quickly stuffed his baseball mitt and three of his best baseball card albums into the box.
Then he remembered Brother Barton’s words, “Are the things of the world more important to you than the things of the spirit?” Fragments of the story of Lehi’s family came to mind. They left their home. They went back for the brass plates. The plates were precious treasure.
“We have to leave right now!” Dad shouted.
As Mark hurried down the stairs, his eyes rested on his scriptures, which he’d left on the hallway table. He quickly picked them up and placed them in the box.
The road was crowded with cars and trucks loaded with furniture and belongings. The traffic slowed when it passed the dramatic sight of walls of fire boiling down the hillside.
Mom softly said, “I’m so grateful that our family is together and safe and that we were able to save our most important things.”
A soothing, peaceful feeling filled Mark’s heart. He glanced down at his scriptures. And I got to save my treasure too. He knew that somehow everything would be all right.

Shortly after my mother and I were baptized, she began working as a registered nurse. As a single parent, she didn’t have time to cook, so we began eating more processed and fast foods. Although I was only 12, my health began to decline. I didn’t have the energy I once had. I felt tired and anxious. I gained weight.
I asked my mom how I could get into better shape. Hoping for a medical response, I was a little surprised when she simply said, “Live the principles of the Word of Wisdom.” I thought she would give me advice on calories and carbohydrates and fats, but her answer was exactly what I needed.
For family home evening the following Monday, we reviewed Doctrine and Covenants 89 and outlined an eating and activity plan. Our lifestyle change was dramatic. We both began to feel healthier and happier. I noticed more peace in my life and more quiet promptings from the Holy Ghost.
I am grateful to a loving Heavenly Father, who wants to communicate with us. I know now that we must be prepared physically and spiritually to receive sacred, personal revelations.
Eric D. Richards, Utah, USA

More than 200 youth from the Las Cruces New Mexico and El Paso Texas Stakes came together last summer for one purpose—to help those in need. Armed with gloves, water bottles, and sunscreen, they came eager to serve.
Some of the youth painted houses, some moved mounds of gravel, some pulled weeds, mowed lawns, and pruned trees and bushes, while others cleaned up loads of garbage. In all, 4 churches and 57 homes were transformed and beautified during the two-day “Helping Hands” youth conference. Rebecca Daw, a member of the youth committee that organized the conference, said “Service helps both the giver and the receiver. It helps us become better, stronger, more loving people. We need to be out doing stuff, doing hard work.”
Of the 57 families that benefited from the service projects, 52 were not members of the Church. By the time the service projects ended the second day, 7 of these families had requested copies of the Book of Mormon. Along with all the service projects, the youth also enjoyed food, activities, and a closing fireside with a slideshow and testimonies on the second day of the conference.

A few days later we were reading scriptures in Mom and Dad’s bedroom. Mom and I sat on the bed, and Eli stood next to us, holding Susie. We read about being witnesses for Jesus Christ. “To be a witness means that we tell people about Jesus,” Mom explained. “How do we help Eli know about Jesus?”
“We love him,” I said.
“That’s a very good way,” Mom said.
Suddenly, something warm and fuzzy landed in my lap. It was Susie Bear.
“Hannah. Susie,” Eli said, pointing at me.
“Is it my turn to play with Susie?” I asked him.
Eli nodded.
“That’s so nice, Eli,” Mom told him. “Hannah, I think Eli loves you a lot.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “And I love him a lot too.”

My next step was to try my goal at school. Being the only Mormon in my school was more than a little challenging. I started by listening to my friends, not just hearing. Others began to listen back. I found there was so much to learn about each person—their beliefs, their interests, and their goals. Also, I found that each person, whether he is Jewish, Greek Orthodox, or Catholic, wants to be important; he wants others to care about him.

The red, yellow, and orange leaves crunched under my feet on the bumpy brick sidewalk. Ivy climbed up the old buildings I passed on my way, forming intricate designs. I was headed for the subway. I was happy; inside I was singing. The blue sky outlined the tall majestic buildings. When I arrived at the subway station, I dug into my pocket and pulled out a button that read, “I Care.” I smiled. I pulled out a quarter and rode up to Park Street Station. A hundred faces, each individual, each reflecting a different personality, rode with me.
I smiled at every gaze that fell my way; some smiled back and sent a part of themselves with their smile. I knew where I was going; I knew what I wanted. I wanted others to know too. I had found the true joy of living; the button was pinned on the outside of my coat and on the inside of my heart.

Charleston and Columbia South Carolina Stakes
Charleston County (South Carolina) school superintendent, Chip Zullinger, figured Chicora Elementary School received $100,000 worth of help, help that is hard to come by because of lack of funding.
When youth from the Charleston and Columbia stakes volunteered their time to fix up the school for the beginning of classes, teachers, administrators, and students were grateful. In a true student-helping-student effort, the LDS teens scraped paint from peeling walls, repaired damaged ceiling tiles, and did general cleaning throughout the building.
“It was fun making the school look nicer for the little kids,” said Rachel Bonitz.

President Romney tells an interesting experience he had with regard to following the living prophet:
“One day when President Grant was living, I sat in my office across the street following a general conference. A man came over to see me, an elderly man. He was very upset about what had been said in this conference by some of the Brethren, including myself. I could tell from his speech that he came from a foreign land. After I had quieted him enough so he would listen, I said, ‘Why did you come to America?’
“‘I came here because a prophet of God told me to come.’
“‘Who was the prophet?’ I continued.
“‘Wilford Woodruff.’
“‘Do you believe Wilford Woodruff was a prophet of God?’
“‘Yes,’ said he.
“‘Do you believe that his successor, President Lorenzo Snow, was a prophet of God?’
“‘Yes, I do.’
“‘Do you believe that President Joseph F. Smith was a prophet of God?’
“‘Yes, sir.’
“Then came the ‘sixty-four dollar question.’ ‘Do you believe that Heber J. Grant is a prophet of God?’
“His answer: ‘I think he ought to keep his mouth shut about old age assistance.’” (Conference Report, April 6, 1953, p. 125.)

One of the first components in building family faith is the courage to begin a family. Marco and Raffaella Ferrini of the Firenze Second Branch, Florence Italy District, dated each other before serving missions. Soon after returning home, they both felt impressed in the temple that they should marry soon. “In Italy it’s more common to get married in your 30s,” Marco says. Some friends and relatives asked them, “Why are you getting married so young?”
Raffaella also wanted a temple marriage. She says, “To marry in the temple is a good goal,” even though it may be harder to achieve in countries with fewer Church members. “Satan tries to convince us to make wrong decisions, but when we have a good goal clearly set in our minds, Heavenly Father will help us overcome everything so we can reach that goal.” She is grateful that it’s easier to meet Latter-day Saints now than in her parents’ generation. She’s also happy the Lord blessed her with the opportunity to marry “not just a Church member but a worthy priesthood holder.”
Raffaella and Marco showed their gratitude to the Lord by making sacrifices so they could marry when the Spirit guided them to. They planned a simple, inexpensive celebration, and Marco decided to delay finishing his university studies. “Everything is so expensive here that it’s hard to do more than one thing at once—study, work, and have a family,” he says. Financial concerns prompt most Italians to finish school and establish careers before marriage, “but our main desire was to start our family,” Marco says. He realized that only three things were vitally necessary to be able to do so: a job, a place to live, and the faith to move forward. At first “I didn’t get a very good job, but it was enough,” Marco says. “Anytime you have to make a hard decision, you just have to jump in. You go by faith and try your best,” trusting that needed blessings will come. Eventually he was blessed with a better-paying job in the tourist industry, thanks to the foreign languages he learned on his mission. He also has a testimony of paying tithing because his young family has never been in need.
Marco values Church leaders’ counsel to get an education, and he plans to earn his degree when his children are a little older. But for now, “I feel the Spirit telling me that it’s important for me to be with my family. And since my two children, Giulia and Lorenzo, have been born, I haven’t regretted a thing.”
“We don’t have much money,” Raffaella says, “but we are happy.” They are grateful to participate in the plan of happiness and teach its truths to the next generation—the third generation in their family to receive gospel blessings.

In August 2005, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) issued a challenge to read or reread the Book of Mormon before the end of the year.4 Because I was reading from the Book of Mormon daily anyway, I was already in Ether or Moroni. Consequently, upon finishing a week or two later, I concluded that I had completed President Hinckley’s challenge.
But then a faithful home teacher came to visit our family. He asked how I was doing with President Hinckley’s invitation.
I told him that I had the good fortune of having started the Book of Mormon before President Hinckley’s challenge. Then, with some self-righteousness, I announced that I had completed the task.
Fortunately, my home teacher saw things differently. As he gently corrected me, the Spirit whispered to me that my home teacher was right.
Now I had to read two chapters a day to finish again by the end of the year. As I increased how much I read in the Book of Mormon, I noticed that even more power came into my life. I had more joy. I saw things more clearly. I repented even more frequently. I wanted to minister to and rescue others. I was less susceptible to Satan’s deceptions and temptations. I loved the Savior more.
That November I was called to be the bishop of our ward. Completing President Hinckley’s challenge prepared me for that calling. Since then, I have noticed that the busier I become either at work or at church, the more I need to study the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon.

One day at school, I heard that a boy was being bullied. I felt sad. No one should be treated that way.
Later that day, our grade had a party. The boy who had been bullied earlier came to the party and sat by himself. When I saw him, I remembered what had happened. I heard a voice tell me to sit by him. But I didn’t want to be the only one sitting by him. He’ll be fine, I thought. He doesn’t need someone to sit next to him. I pushed the feeling away.
The voice came to me again, stronger. Go sit by him.
I looked at the boy. He looked lonely and sad. OK, I thought. When I sat down by him, he looked uncomfortable. I told him my name and asked him about himself. At first, I was nervous. But as we talked, I felt peaceful. And he didn’t look lonely or sad anymore.
When he had to go back to class, I said I’d talk to him later. He smiled a little and said OK. My teacher came to me and said, “Thank you, Sierra. That was very kind.” I just nodded my head.
The rest of the day went by quickly, but that peaceful feeling didn’t go away. I knew I did the right thing. Sometimes people aren’t treated right when they’re different. I don’t like it, but it happens.
We are all God’s children. We should treat others kindly. If we do this, I know that God will bless us.

Illustration by Dan Burr
My siblings and I always wanted a horse. When I was about 9 or 10 years old, my dad bought a beautiful black mare. We named her Yancy. We were so excited to have this horse, but she hadn’t been trained to be ridden. We were too young to do all the hard work it takes to train a horse, so my dad asked a friend who knew a lot about horses to help train Yancy.
We often went to the pasture to see Yancy. We couldn’t wait for the day we could ride her. But no matter how hard anyone tried, no one could train Yancy. She was too stubborn. We were never able to ride her.
One day my dad’s friend tried to ride her in a parade. As Yancy and her rider were going down the road, Yancy bucked the rider off and started to run through the city. Yancy ran so wildly that she cut her leg on a fire hydrant. I chased after Yancy and found her lying in the street in pain.
I was sad. We loved Yancy. If she had been obedient to the trainer, she could have become a happy horse with a wonderful life. But Yancy wouldn’t listen to and follow her master. Instead she was now injured and lying in the street.
Yancy’s story taught me of the blessings that come when we follow the Master, our Savior Jesus Christ. When we are kind and gentle and humble, we can be happy as we let the Savior lead us.

One of the bishop’s duties was to send to every serviceman a subscription to the Church News and to the Improvement Era and to write a personal letter to him each month. Since President Monson had served in the navy in World War II, he appreciated the importance of a letter from home. He had 23 ward members serving in the military, so he called a sister in the ward to handle the details of mailing these letters. One evening he handed her the monthly stack of 23 letters.
“Bishop, don’t you ever get discouraged?” she asked. “Here is another letter to Brother Bryson. This is the 17th letter you have sent to him without a reply.”
“Well, maybe this will be the month,” he said. It was. The reply from Brother Bryson read: “Dear Bishop, I ain’t much at writin’ letters. Thank you for the Church News and magazines, but most of all thank you for the personal letters. I have turned over a new leaf. I have been ordained a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. My heart is full. I am a happy man.”
President Monson saw in that letter the practical application of the adage “Do your duty, that is best. Leave unto the Lord the rest.” Years later, while attending a stake conference, he spoke of his experience of writing to the servicemen. After the meeting, a young man came up to him and asked, “Bishop, do you remember me?”
Without a pause President Monson replied, “Brother Bryson! How are you? What are you doing in the Church?”
The former serviceman replied with great pleasure that he was fine and serving in his elders quorum presidency. “Thank you again for your concern for me and the personal letters which you sent and which I treasure.”5

No one involved will ever forget the day the youth of the Phoenix 41st Ward, Prescott Arizona Stake, and the youth of the Caborca Mexico District got together for a conference.
“At first it was really weird because everything was done in Spanish and we had to have translators,” said David Larson, a teacher from Arizona. “But after a while, everyone was mixing and the youth found out that we are really the same in the Church.”
The conference included activities, workshops, and dances, but the high point was the service project. Armed with supplies, the youth cleaned, painted, and refurbished the town plaza. Many people passed by as the work was going on, and the youth told them about the Church and its values.
By the end of the conference, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind why it had been themed “Forward Together.”

The young man’s name was John Andreas Widtsoe. He lived with his widowed mother and little brother in a small, poor cottage. They had come from Norway in 1884. On June 27, 1894, in Sanders Theater, in Harvard Yard, Cambridge, Massachusetts, President Charles W. Eliot of Harvard University conferred upon the young immigrant the degree, Bachelor of Science, summa cum laude (with highest honors). He completed the four-year curriculum in three years. He had undergone many hardships. His widowed mother and little brother had sent him small sums of money from their meager earnings. The rest of his education had been financed by unusual personal sacrifice and by loans from kind friends in Logan, with notes signed at 12 percent interest.

Thank you for the article “Praying Our Way to Church” (June 2010). When we are out of town on vacation my family rarely attends church. Recently I spent two weeks at a summer writing program and didn’t plan on attending church while I was away. During the plane ride I came across the article and read it with great interest. I prayed to find a way to go to church that next Sunday. I found out that I had to have a permission slip to be released from the campus, but after a little persistence I was able to attend Sunday meetings.
Samantha F.

One testimony I remember well was given at a Young Adult and Institute conference I attended in California. On that occasion, a blind girl made her way to the front of approximately 400 youth and adults and bore a touching testimony. She said that while taking the missionary discussions prior to joining the Church, she began to lose her eyesight. Her parents strongly objected to the missionaries and the Church and urged her to stop taking the discussions. She simply replied that it was more important for her to have understanding than sight. She concluded by bearing her testimony—a testimony that I’m sure not many who were present will ever forget.

A short time ago I attended the funeral of a friend’s son. Earlier in the week, the young man was traveling home late at night with friends when the driver of another car fell asleep. The second car crossed the median and smashed head-on into the first. The accident occurred with such swiftness that few, if any, brake marks showed on the highway and both cars were demolished. The accident took three lives, including my friend’s 17-year-old son.
In reflecting on the accident, I have thought about the lessons taught by death—particularly the death of a loved one.
Another lesson taught by death concerns the importance of eternal families. Just as there are parents to greet a newborn on earth, the scriptures teach that caring family members greet the spirits in paradise and assist them in the adjustments to a new life (see Gen. 25:8; Gen. 35:29; Gen. 49:33). While I was standing before the casket, the thought came that separation was not only a shock for the parents but also for the young man as he suddenly found himself on the other side of the veil. I suspect that he would like to tell his parents once more how much he loves them. Brothers and sisters, heaven exists only if families are eternal.
Last week I received a letter from the boy’s parents telling me of the peace they have found through their faith in Christ. They know they will see their son again and be with him in the eternities. As Isaiah stated concerning the Savior, “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: … and with his stripes we are healed” (Isa. 53:4–5).

Brother Paul himself was a convert to the Church. While in Nassau as consul general, he became interested in the Church, made inquiries, flew to Utah, and attended general conference there. Impressed by what he learned, he was referred to two LDS families living in the Bahamas—the McCombs and the Ballards. These families had been holding church services in their homes. Alexander Paul and his family were taught the gospel and baptized. It was then that he invited the Ferriers to investigate the gospel.

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

Since I consider family history a type of work, I decided to make my own family history book. So I made a compilation of all the pictures of the members of my family. I did that so that my kids and my great-grandchildren will be able to see how their ancestors looked. And while I was doing it, I felt so peaceful because I knew I wasn’t doing it for myself, but I was also doing it for generations to come.
Glory S., 18, Johannesburg, South Africa