Gospel Story Finder

In 1849, Brigham Young had a dream in which he saw the Prophet Joseph Smith driving a large herd of sheep and goats. Some of these animals were large and beautiful; others were small and dirty. Brigham Young recalled looking into the Prophet Joseph Smith’s eyes and saying, “Joseph, you have got the darndest flock … I ever saw in my life; what are you going to do with them?” The Prophet, who seemed unconcerned with this unruly flock, simply replied, “[Brigham,] they are all good in their places.”
When President Young awoke, he understood that while the Church would gather a variety of “sheep and goats,” it was his responsibility to bring all in and allow each of them to realize their full potential as they took their places in the Church. (Adapted from Ronald W. Walker, “Brigham Young: Student of the Prophet,” Ensign, Feb. 1998, 56–57.)

Scott was not the best athlete in his high school. He had not carried the ball or tackled anyone in football, won any races in track and field, or scored any points in basketball. Yet that year his school’s athletes, coaches, and parents gathered to present him with their most prestigious award, the award for best athlete of the year. In the past, young men and women who received the award were on championship teams or won individual honors. Several had gone on to college with scholarships attesting to their abilities. Why they now gave the highest award to someone who had not been a member of any team is a story of sensitivity and gratitude for a boy honored for a different type of achievement.
I know this story because I am Scott’s priesthood adviser. I knew that Scott was given the award because he had, as manager of the football team, contributed his enthusiasm, warmth, and work to the team members. After one ugly incident when Scott was abused by a member of the team, the coach and other team members became very protective of him. Because of their love they voted to give him the award.

One of the most important parts of a successful home teaching visit is preparing and sharing a lesson. Every other month Brandon Stewart gives the lesson. Brandon has learned how to prepare a lesson by watching his senior companion, his father. Thanks to his dad’s good example, giving the lesson is Brandon’s favorite part of home teaching.
To prepare his lesson, Brandon starts by reading the First Presidency Message in the Ensign. He picks the parts he thinks may help the family he will be teaching. He then adds his personal experiences and feelings about the topic and concludes his lesson just as his father does, by bearing his testimony.

I had to see the temple! I just had to see the temple, I thought as the bus rolled along the Washington beltway.
It was a long ride from our home in Pennsylvania to the National Girl Scout Camp in Maryland. There were about 20 girls in the bus with me, some I’d been friends with for years. Together we went to school, camped, served, and goofed off. So much of my life had been within this circle of friends, yet I felt a little different from them. A year ago I’d been baptized, and I’d changed. I was 15 years old and I knew things, really important things, that I wanted to share with these friends.
I looked out the window, and my thoughts turned to the temple. I’d never seen one before, but I’d heard how spectacular the Washington, D.C., temple is as it suddenly appears before you on the beltway. I wondered if we would see it tonight. I hoped we would pass by, and concentrated on looking for it.
I frantically searched the landscape beyond the traffic for the temple’s white spires. With every passing mile I felt my chances becoming slimmer. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on something else.
“What is it?” someone shouted.
“It’s the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen!”
Crowded against the windows on the other side of the bus, all 20 girls strained to see the temple towering above the highway.
“It’s the temple,” I explained to the girls nearest me.
“How do you know?” “Who’s that on top?” “Who would build something so big?” they continued. I answered their questions with excitement.
What seemed like a vision that only lasted a few seconds gave me the chance to give answers that could last forever. Since then I’ve had many opportunities to enter temples, and each time I see the temple’s spires I’m reminded that I am different, and I still know things, really important things, that I want to share with my friends.

“I remember observing one elderly sister learning how to read. I watched her wrinkled face and beautiful black eyes light up like the sun as she read the first words she had ever read in Spanish: eso, mesa, mama. This came only after a solid week and a half of learning to recognize and distinguish sounds. Now, finally, she was able to put them together into words, the most difficult task of all. Nothing in the world could equal the joy that radiated from her face and eyes as she slowly read those words. Nor could anything take away the joy I felt upon realizing that we were actually helping this woman. Someday, perhaps, she will be able to sit down and read and study the scriptures.
“I never realized before how lucky I really am to be who I am. How much I take for granted the gifts and talents I have. I had never considered that being able to read is a blessing, a gift, and a talent. It is all three! Why is it that we never realize this until the day we meet someone who is without? I know now that I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for this experience and awakening.”
Michelle SmithNovato, California

The coarse dust of the harmattan wind blew across an expectant crowd in Accra, Ghana. Thousands of Latter-day Saints sat quietly, the air swelling with anticipation. They had worked and prepared, and now they were ready. It was time. The prophet was there.
The excitement of the youth in Ghana had begun months earlier with a request from President Gordon B. Hinckley to get the youth and children involved in the dedication of the Accra Ghana Temple, the first temple in West Africa.
For the youth in the Ghana area, getting involved meant hours of rehearsing native dances and songs and then putting them all together to create not only the biggest youth activity ever in Africa but a spectacular cultural event for the prophet.
President Hinckley arrived at the Accra Sports Stadium and found almost 1,000 youth, 700 Primary children, and all the full-time missionaries from the area waiting to perform for him. He was welcomed in English, French, and Twi, and with talking drums.
The missionaries started the show by singing “Called to Serve” (Hymns, no. 249), and then the youth took over. Dressed in traditional costumes, they were organized within their stakes and districts to represent various regions and villages.
Desmond Ahwireng, a youth, played Anansi, a legendary spider from African folklore. Onstage, Anansi went from village to village looking for all the good things in the world so he could keep them for himself, gathering them into a gourd he carried on his head. As he approached each village, the youth in that village sang and danced for him and gave him good things like courage, service, love, music, and family.
At the end of his journey, Anansi found the Accra Ghana Temple. The beauty of the temple convinced the selfish spider that he should not keep all the good things he had collected for himself, so he emptied the contents of his gourd to share them with everyone. Anansi’s good deed was greeted by 700 Primary children, all dressed in white, singing “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301).
The youth in Ghana will remember the dedication of this temple. They, like Anansi, love to see the temple and hope its presence there will move them to share the good they have as they continue to follow the counsel of the prophet.

In my youth I learned an important lesson about how our actions may limit our freedom. One day my father assigned me to varnish a wooden floor. I made the choice to begin at the door and work my way into the room. When I was almost finished, I realized I had left myself no way to get out. There was no window or door on the other side. I had literally painted myself into a corner. I had no place to go. I was stuck.
Whenever we disobey, we spiritually paint ourselves into a corner and are captive to our choices. Though we are spiritually stuck, there is always a way back. Like repentance, turning around and walking across a newly varnished floor means more work—a lot of resanding and refinishing! Returning to the Lord isn’t easy, but it is worth it.

Another example: In 1830, Frederick G. Williams, a prominent medical doctor, was baptized. He immediately gave of his talents and prosperity to the Church. He became a leader in the Church. He donated property for the Kirtland Temple. In 1837, caught up in difficulties of the times, Frederick G. Williams made serious mistakes. The Lord declared in a revelation that “in consequence of [his] transgressions [his] former standing [in the leadership of the Church had] been taken away from [him].”18

The beautiful lesson we learn from Frederick G. Williams is that “whatever his personal weaknesses, he had the strength of character to [renew] his loyalty to the [Lord,] the Prophet and … to the Church, when it would have been so easy to have disintegrated in bitterness.”19 In the spring of 1840, he presented himself at a general conference, humbly asking forgiveness for his past conduct and expressing his determination to do the will of God in the future. His case was presented by Hyrum Smith, and he was freely forgiven. He died a faithful member of the Church.

I recently met the president of the Recife Brazil Temple, whose name is Frederick G. Williams. He recounted how his great-great-grandfather’s decision of character had blessed the family and hundreds of his posterity.

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
It’s time for family prayer, everybody. Gather around.
I believe it’s Matt’s turn to pray.
Are you sure? It seems like I just had my turn.
I have a question for everyone. Suppose Matt wanted to talk to the leader of our country—or any other country. How long would it take him to get an appointment?
A week?
A month?
It would probably take many months. And it might never happen at all. Even if it did, such a busy person couldn’t talk to him long and might not pay very close attention.
And yet in a few seconds, with no appointment and no waiting, Matt will be speaking on our behalf to Heavenly Father—the God of the whole universe—for as long as he likes. And Heavenly Father will listen as if Matt were the only person in existence.
Wow! What do you guys think of that?
I think I’m glad it’s my turn, and that I can have a turn whenever I want.

I once visited a family in Chile. Their father had died in an accident a month before I came. One of the children was a boy named Benjamin. He was 10 years old.
Before his dad’s accident, Benjamin gave a family home evening lesson. It was about the stripling warriors from the Book of Mormon (see Alma 53:16–22; 56:42–57). He talked about how brave they were and how they trusted God.
When Benjamin’s mom heard about the accident, she thought of Benjamin’s lesson. She told her family, “We need to be brave like the stripling warriors. We have another battle to fight.”
It was hard for Benjamin’s family. It felt like their lives were turned upside down. They had to move to another house to live with their grandma. And they really missed their dad. But they knew they would be together with him again someday. They decided to be a stripling warrior family. Benjamin told us, “I’m being brave.”
I walked into their house wanting to comfort them. But I was the one who left feeling blessed. Benjamin and his family are fighting this battle so bravely. Their faith is inspiring to me.

Long before I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I wanted to serve the Lord. I always said to myself that I would devote all of my time to Him no matter what. Serving Him throughout my life was my dream. And joining the Church of Jesus Christ gave me an even better chance at following my dream.
In December 2017, I was baptized. That was the greatest day of my life. The gospel taught me how to think differently, how to inspire others, how to overcome my fears, and how to reinforce my talents and discover new ones. Eventually I also learned about the opportunity to serve a full-time mission. I immediately knew that was something I wanted to do. So day by day, I worked to prepare. I read the scriptures, attended institute, and magnified my calling. However, there was one problem in my family that made me so uncertain about the future.
Poverty.
When I turned 18, poverty struck my family. We could barely eat, go to school, or even pay for transportation to church. The only thing we had left to hold onto was our faith. This situation really slowed down my process of serving a mission. I opened up to mom about my desire, but she repeated something she had often told me: “Finish school, then follow your dreams.” Because of our financial situation, I didn’t have much of a choice. So I worked hard to get through school.
Eventually I graduated and was finally ready to go out and serve the Lord. But poverty was still affecting us.
I was frustrated.
I thought, “I’ve finished school, and I’ve done everything I can. Why is this still not working out?” I didn’t want to wait for my dream any longer, but despite being discouraged, I trusted that things would work out with time.
I decided to work extra hard to earn all the money for my mission expenses. I prayed every day, visited with the missionaries as much as possible, and strengthened my testimony by studying Church materials.
A lot of my relatives were against my dream to serve a mission. They would tell me that serving a mission would only make things worse for me and my family. But I stood my ground. I knew that I wanted to serve a mission and that Heavenly Father would provide a way.
After a long while of working and saving money, I finally submitted my mission papers. When my bishop called me and told me my call had arrived, I shouted and jumped for joy! I immediately went to the stake office and got the letter. That evening, I opened my mission call and announced to my family that I was called to serve in the Philippines Cabanatuan Mission.
I cried tears of joy that night. Despite all that had happened, with faith and hard work and trust in the Lord, I finished everything I needed to do to serve a mission and fulfill my dream. I realized that if I hadn’t experienced that hardship before my mission, I might not have been completely physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and financially prepared. But because of my circumstances, I was able to grow in so many ways.
I know that Heavenly Father has a plan for all of us. Everything you’re going through might not make sense at times, and you might want things to happen sooner rather than later, but trust in His timing rather than your own. If we trust in Him and exercise faith and work hard, He will lead us to our righteous desires at the right time and help us grow along the way (see Enos 1:12 and Alma 29:4).
Marc Deo Dela Cruz is from Cagayán, Philippines.

In the October 2012 general conference, President Boyd K. Packer related an incident that explains this very well. On one occasion he was assigned to a stake conference in Western Samoa. As part of the conference the group had to travel from Savai’i to Mulifanua on Upolu Island. They had originally planned to go by plane, but weather conditions prevented that, so they set out on a forty-foot boat. What they did not know is that they were headed into the center of a ferocious tropical storm. After many hours they crossed the rough seas and arrived at the harbor at Mulifanua. President Packer explained what happened next:

We arrived in the harbor at Mulifanua. There was one narrow passage we were to go through along the reef. A light on the hill above the beach and a second lower light marked the narrow passage. When a boat was maneuvered so that the two lights were one above the other, the boat would be lined up properly to pass through the dangerous rocks that lined the passage.
But that night there was only one light. Two elders were waiting on the landing to meet us, but the crossing took much longer than usual. After watching for hours for signs of our boat, the elders tired and fell asleep, neglecting to turn on the second light, the lower light. As a result, the passage through the reef was not clear.
The captain maneuvered the boat as best he could toward the one upper light on shore while a crewman held [a] flashlight over the bow, searching for rocks ahead. We could hear the breakers crashing over the reef. When we were close enough to see them with the flashlight, the captain frantically shouted reverse and backed away to try again to locate the passage.
After many attempts, he knew it would be impossible to find the passage [without the second light]. All we could do was try to reach the harbor at Apia 40 miles (64 km) away. We were helpless against the ferocious power of the elements.25

The group eventually made their way to safety, but it was a harrowing experience. President Packer observed, “I do not know who had been waiting for us at the beach at Mulifanua. ... But it is true that without that lower light, we all might have been lost.”26

In going through my husband’s Church books, I came across A Marvelous Work and a Wonder by Elder LeGrand Richards. As I read it, I felt as if it had been written for me. I discovered New Testament scriptures regarding baptism for the dead and Christ’s mission during the time prior to his resurrection. I discovered Jesus’ words to Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb: “Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father.” (John 20:17.) Had he not returned to his Father immediately after his death? But I had used his words to the thief on the cross, “To day shalt thou be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43) to prove deathbed repentance! I had read these same scriptures countless times before but had never really understood them. Now I realized I had been deceived about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I studied and prayed, I began to find answers to the questions I had quietly pushed aside. Finally, I knew that this church was the Savior’s church, and its doctrine was his doctrine. In 1984 I was baptized.

The year was 1977. Star Wars debuted, the Portland Trailblazers won the NBA Championship, disco music was all over the radio, and bell-bottom pants were in style. Shortly after moving from Genola, Utah, to Aloha, Oregon, my father took my brother Roger (2) and I (5) to the church to watch him and his buddies play basketball while my mom and newborn sister, Da'lynne, rested back home.
After an hour of watching Dad play, I was fed up and wanted to go home. Dad told me, "We'll leave in a minute." Well, a minute turned into 10 minutes, and I had had it. So I grabbed my coat and started walking the five-mile journey back home. I had walked nearly two and a half miles when I decided that I needed to cross the Tualatin Valley (TV) Highway near the Harvey Marine store. For your information, TV Highway is one of the major thoroughfares that connects Beaverton to Hillsboro, a four-lane highway much like our own Highway 20 that connects Rexburg to Idaho Falls.
With great confidence I looked both ways for cars and determined that it was time to cross. Just then, a kind lady yelled out from her front porch, "Little boy, are you lost?"
I turned around and confidently said, "No! I'm going home."
She asked, "Where are your parents?"
I replied, "My mom is home with my baby sister, and my dad won't stop playing basketball at the church."
She then asked, "Do you know your phone number so we can call your mom?
I said, "Yes. 649-5856." I still remember that number to this day.
The kind lady called my mother only to find that my dad had already called home to notify mom that I was missing. Mom was panicked and none too happy with my father. Much to her relief, arrangements were made for me to be dropped off at my home, and all turned out well, at least for me-Dad, not so much.
A few months later, when calm was restored, my parents and some friends went out to eat when the conversation started about our little adventure. Inadvertently, one of the men who was playing ball with my dad blurted out, "Not only did we lose, Tyler, but we also lost Roger."
Remember my little brother who went with me and my dad? Whoops! Dad had conveniently forgotten to tell Mom that Roger was also lost. Luckily, after an hour of searching the church grounds, and just about the time I was rescued, one of the ball players found Roger sound asleep under the sacrament table.
Needless to say, from that moment on, Dad has been much more vigilant in keeping his eye on his children and grandchildren when out and about.
I hope you can see from both of these stories the devastating effects that forgetfulness could have had on my family. Dad could've been stranded in the cold for a really long time. I could've been taken by some stranger and never returned.

A home teacher I know relates an experience that gave him a feeling of success that has since carried him through many difficult times: “I was working with a family that was reasonably active, but just didn’t seem to have enough commitment to living all of the gospel principles. I prayed to know what I should discuss with them that would be of most value at the time, and I felt inspired to talk about the principle of fasting. I found that they had been discussing this very principle among themselves, and I was able to answer some of their questions and give them some encouragement to use this principle. One of their children who had never fasted before committed to try fasting on the next fast Sunday, and afterward she beamed as she reported that it had been a wonderful experience.

“Just that one successful experience encouraged me and motivated me to try for other successes as a home teacher. And each subsequent success renewed my feelings that I was truly engaged in a worthwhile work. To this day, some of those early successes help to keep me motivated and inspired as a home teacher, and I truly enjoy that calling as a result.”

I am a banana seller and a graduate of policy studies and administration from the University of Calabar, Nigeria.
I worked with my certificate as a degree holder but was underemployed, my salary at the end of the month was not enough to take care of my basic needs so I quit the job to sell bananas.
When I was introduced to the self-reliance devotional, I found it very interesting and I joined the Starting and Growing My Business group.
During my group meeting, I learned a lot of principles that enabled me to start my own business.
Some of the principles I learned that have made my business successful are:
Payment of tithes.
Fasting and praying for the progress of my business.
Spiritual self-reliance (my faith has grown tremendously in the Lord)
Networking for clients (I have an umbrella shop. I also hawk my goods)
I have an expense book for cash in and cash out reports.
I have developed daily savings.
I have a salary from my business.
Now I can afford my basic needs, provide for those around me, and have enough time to plan for myself and my business.
The experience I gained during my group meeting has blessed my life, and I have encouraged everyone around me to join any of the self-reliance groups to also experience a change in their lives.
I may not be fully self-reliant now, but from my efforts, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

During the global pandemic, travel to Vanuatu was severely restricted, making it difficult for the Church in the area to send out or receive missionaries. Eventually, Tanna Island had no full-time missionaries and missionary work was forced to slow down.
In early 2022, as life began returning to normal, Vanuatu’s mission president, Mark Messick, was delighted to receive a request from Tanna’s district president: “Send missionaries as soon as possible!”
President Messick learned that while Tanna was without full-time missionaries, local members of the Church and returned missionaries on the island continued to teach the gospel to their friends and neighbours, and they had around 85 candidates ready to be interviewed and baptised. President Messick immediately arranged to send his assistants to Tanna.
The plan was postponed because Tanna’s live volcano started rumbling. Then, a small cyclone hit the island, causing widespread damage—further solidifying Vanuatu’s status as number one on the World Risk Index for the likelihood of natural disasters. Just as Tanna began to recover from the cyclone, a sudden outbreak of COVID-19 shut all of Vanuatu down, and once again, travel was restricted.
It wasn’t until the middle of August that President Messick was finally able to send his APs to Tanna to interview the baptismal candidates and prepare them to join the Church. By then, President Messick was worried that the long wait had deterred some of them, that their interest might have waned.
But when Elder Silas Toa and Elder Brian Moses Nalin arrived—armed with a stack of paperwork for the baptismal interviews—they found the opposite to be true. Not only were all 85 still eager to join the Church, but their numbers had increased by 29. Now, 114 candidates were faithfully waiting to be interviewed and baptised. The elders embarked on their tour of all eight of the Church’s branches in Tanna.
After they interviewed and baptised six people at the first branch, Elder Toa and Elder Nalin headed to Saetsiwi, an isolated area tucked high in the mountains. They had no way to contact the Saetsiwi Branch president but knew he was expecting them at some point, so the missionaries drove their truck as far as they could then continue on foot for the remaining 3-hour trek. When they finally arrived, the branch president was nowhere to be found. The elders had hiked all that way in vain.
Then the big rain fell. Everyone in Saetsiwi knows that when it starts to rain hard, getting off the mountain is treacherous. Elder Toa and Elder Nalin rushed back to their truck, knowing every second counted before the local rivers swelled and became impassable. They made it to the truck in time to drive through the first and second rivers, but they knew the third river would be a challenge.
Sure enough, their truck got stuck partway. They tried to push it—no luck. They called the district president, and soon help arrived, but the truck still wouldn’t move. The river rose and flowed so swiftly that the helpers had to get out and move to safety. Then, Elder Nalin spotted something else that worried him. He saw that the waters in next river over—which converged with this river—had become torrential and threatened to break through.
In his mind, it seemed to Elder Nalin that an invisible force was holding that third river back, as though buying time for them—but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. The torrent was racing.
Elder Toa and Elder Nalin are examples of the finest possible young men from Vanuatu—responsible and excellent in every way. To them, a truck is of almost incomprehensible expense, especially in a country where families can barely afford to educate their children, much less buy a vehicle. The elders were determined to preserve the Church’s truck at all costs, but now the water was up to its door handles. They called their mission president and asked, “What should we do?”
President Messick’s response was: “Thank you for calling. Now get out of the truck and save yourselves. I don’t care about the truck; I care about you.”
As they rushed out of the truck, Elder Toa climbed into the back seat to grab their scriptures and the 114 interview papers they needed for the baptisms. He couldn’t see them anywhere. Then a voice yelled, “The water is coming! Get out of the truck!” and Elder Toa slipped out of the back door just as the truck was swept downstream.
As soon as the elders realised that their scriptures and the 114 interview papers were still in the truck—which was now well out of sight—they used the power of the priesthood and commanded the truck to protect their precious documents. “That’s what you can do with the priesthood,” the young men said later, with absolute confidence. “You can command.”
Elder Toa and Elder Nalin managed to pull themselves out to safety, and there by the side of the river, they knelt and prayed. As they prayed that the truck would be safe and that their scriptures and interview papers would stay dry, the missionaries felt a peaceful assurance that all would be fine. Then they walked the rest of the way off the mountain.
The next day, the elders received a call from the district president. Saetsiwi’s branch president had found their truck, 250 meters downstream. When the Elders arrived to retrieve it, they discovered not a dent or a scratch on the body of the vehicle, despite its journey in the river, past trees, rocks, and debris.
The inside of the truck wasn’t so fortunate. It was drenched. The engine suffered electrical damage, and everything in the cab—pamphlets, manuals, books—was soaked beyond repair, except for the Elders’ scriptures and the 114 interview papers. These sat in plain sight above everything else, completely dry.
While the truck was being repaired, Elder Toa and Elder Nalin resumed their tour on foot. At their next stop, they interviewed and baptised 48 candidates before continuing right across Tanna Island. “When you get tired of walking,” one of them told a fellow missionary, “You walk with your heart.”
Their hearts and a priesthood miracle helped these faithful elders reach and bring all 114 candidates safely into the Church of Jesus Christ.

Sione ‘Oleli Piutau Tupou also discovered that personal and spiritual journeys require as much faith as physical ones. Raised in the Church by parents he calls “true stalwarts,” he strayed after their deaths, becoming active in another Christian congregation. But in 1984, after forty-six years, he heard that an anti-Mormon film would be shown in his village.
On the appointed day and hour, I sat in the community club watching people line up to see the film, feeling very disgusted and depressed that a church with so much good would be publicly attacked.
As I sat in this depression, I suddenly felt the presence of my father and mother who had been dead these many years. I broke down, unable to control my tears, and surprised my fellow club members by standing up and going home.
The night was miserable and sleepless for me, and the next morning was worse. I knew I needed divine help to escape the darkness surrounding me, and I started a fast in which I begged Heavenly Father to help me.
When I broke my fast, I felt an indescribable relief and joy: Heavenly Father impressed my heart with both the admonition and the courage to return to his church, my church, the church of my father and mother.
On Sunday I dressed in my best clothes and walked to the chapel. The Saints were as surprised to see me as my former church members were bitter to see me go. I have not missed a Church meeting since. So many blessings have come to my family after I “reconverted.” Often I reflect upon the strange circumstances that led me into serious reflection about the Church, that made me feel the closeness of my deceased parents, and that gave me the impetus to seek the witness of the truth through fasting and prayer.

We were excited when Sergio received his mission call to the Peru Chiclayo Mission. He began his service on November 20, 2013. He loved his mission. At first, it was easy to write to him. But as the months passed, I needed more time to think about his letters and respond to his spiritual growth.
We didn’t worry about Sergio. We thought that the mission field was the safest place he could be. His mission president called us on October 7, 2014.
The mission president told us that Sergio and his companion had been teaching investigators about the temple and eternal families. Afterward, as Sergio offered the closing prayer, he paused, suddenly lost consciousness, and fell to the floor. He received a blessing and was rushed to a medical center. Doctors determined that he had suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm. They tried in vain to revive him.
The news filled us with deep sorrow. Despite our grief, Liliana and I had to travel to Peru to retrieve Sergio’s body and personal belongings. We had difficulty thinking clearly, so we were grateful that someone from the Church—from the moment we left our home until we returned—was there to help us. We also received help from the Holy Ghost, who comforted us and helped us endure. We never felt alone.
It is difficult to find gratitude in tragedy, but I am grateful for the Lord’s tender mercies associated with Sergio’s death. When he died, I was serving as bishop, Liliana was teaching seminary, and our daughter Ximena was serving as ward Young Women president. We were busy serving and loving others, which grounded us in the gospel. If Sergio had to leave us, I will always be thankful that Heavenly Father took him while we were strong in the faith.
I am also grateful that Sergio departed this life while serving the Lord and while “in the service of [his] fellow beings” (Mosiah 2:17). The Lord has declared, “Those that die in me shall not taste of death, for it shall be sweet unto them” (D&C 42:46).
The Holy Ghost gave me a small glimpse of what Heavenly Father must have endured when His Only Begotten died for us. I realized that I didn’t have any right to be angry with God. My Father in Heaven knew what I was going through. A peace came over me that allowed me to accept His will and the timing of Sergio’s death. Liliana experienced and felt the same.
Our family had been sealed in the temple in 2005, when Sergio and Ximena were small. Ruth was born in the covenant a short while later. Before he left on his mission, Sergio baptized her.
Three days after his death, Ruth had a dream about Sergio. It was the night of her ninth birthday. Ruth dreamt that the two of them walked hand in hand together throughout the day and that he spoke comforting words to her.
Ruth and Ximena were very close to Sergio, and they miss him deeply. Ruth still receives comfort from the memory of her dream.
One day as we were going through Sergio’s belongings, Liliana and I found his mission day planner. We noticed that on each page of each day, Sergio had written the phrase “Be a little better than yesterday.”
Those words have never left me. They remind me that we must continue to live the gospel. That’s how we can be together as a family after this life. That’s how Sergio can be ours again.
As we pass through difficult times, the Savior will succor us. I know that is true, just as I know that His promises are sure. So we hold onto the gospel, and we follow Sergio’s example. We try to be a little better each day.

The last few days had seemed almost like fall, the days when you want to grab a sweater. Today was no exception. The sun was bright yellow, and the refreshing cool breezes seemed out of place for August. But then again, I had felt out of place myself these past few days, as if a certain coolness had entered into my own life.
As I entered the small, dark bedroom my senses were filled with a medicinal odor. Adjusting to the dim light, I noticed the delicate lace curtains at the two long windows. I had always loved the feel of that crisp lace, but years had changed its crisp loveliness into a limp, but still elegant, fabric. On the opposite wall in an old oak bed rested the small form of my grandmother.
I walked hesitantly to her side and sat quietly on the bed. Her eyes opened, and a weary smile formed on her wrinkled face. As I lifted her small hand, I looked into her eyes. The eyes had once been crystal clear blue, but age and years of hard work had dulled their beauty. Those crystal blue eyes had caught the young Air Corps man’s fancy many years before. They were the eyes my grandfather had looked to for comfort and peace, the eyes he had seen the world out of the last few years of his life. Her eyes had beheld many seasons, many times of peace and comfort, and many of pain and tragedy.
Her cool hand clung to mine, and I gripped it tighter. Her hands were small yet strong. I looked at the contrast of our hands and felt her strength. Her hands were wrinkled, rough, and dark from the sun and age; mine were smooth, soft, and white. At first the sight displeased me. How could she have let her hands get so rough? My mind ran back to all the things she had done. With those small, seemingly frail hands she had lifted bales of hay, planted gardens, canned countless bottles of fruit, held children, braided hair, rubbed baby lambs to dryness, and quilted. Yet these same hands had also enjoyed the velvety touch of a rose petal, the smooth rich feeling of fine soil, and later felt the sharp pains of arthritis.
The sun hit on the old windowpanes and found its way into the room. It was a warm ray of sun, yet blinding to the eyes. As I moved to pull the blind, she clutched my hand tighter and then wearily pointed to the small robin in the flower box outside. She had always loved the simple things in life: the flight of a bird, the rain clouds of early summer, the sweet taste of freshly picked raspberries. Her life had been simple and unpretentious. She had no fine clothes or jewelry. But that didn’t matter to her. She had what she needed and cared about.
I suddenly became aware with a fear I had never known, that my grandmother was dying. I suppose I had thought about it, but the reality of it had not touched me before. Suddenly I realized I might never look into those eyes again, never again feel the touch of her hands. I had loved her for years, but only today did I really see my grandmother as she was—a beautiful, caring woman.
She noticed the tears in my eyes and patted my hand, forming the word no on her parched lips. She didn’t want me to feel sorry for her. I realized then that she was relieved. She had lived her life, and it had been a good one. But now it was coming to an end, and she would soon see Grandpa again. I kissed her gently on the cheek and walked away, glancing at the old lace curtains once again. They, like Grandma, had in their aging acquired a beauty all their own.