Rae lay on her air mattress, staring at the colorful pages of scripture she had decorated and taped to the door of the closet. Each one was special at the time of its creation, deserving to be illuminated in big, beautiful script and bright colors…but now they meant nothing. Nothing meant anything at this moment. Just over two months ago she had left the man she'd been with for 14 years; walked out on him, their dog, and their beautiful house. She'd driven an hour and a half to her cousin's apartment, where she'd made herself a small space in the spare bedroom with an air mattress and end table, next to the pet rabbit. She'd left because he was abusive, but she'd also left to be with another man – a man that had shown her what it meant to be truly loved, cherished, and respected. When she had left, life felt so promising. Unfamiliar and a little scary, but promising. She was with the man of her dreams, and he had introduced her to his faith – a beautiful faith that provided so much hope. She had become friends with the sister missionaries and began attending a church that felt like home the second she walked in. But then everything started to fall apart. First, she'd been denied baptism because she was involved with a married man. That was understandable, and something she couldn't really be mad about. But then, her love took full responsibility for this denial and reduced his affections, claiming that it was more important to him that she get baptized. She admired this, but it was difficult to see the logic in it when he was her joy…and it was difficult to be excited about her new faith when her family members were so opposed to it. Then Covid hit…and her love moved back in with his family…and her sister missionaries were sent home…and her church closed its doors…and she lost her job. And now here she was…in a new town, with a new faith, no friends, no church, no job, and what felt like no family since hers didn't understand her recent life choices. Rae rolled over and closed her eyes, figuring her best option was to sleep as much as possible until this whole nightmare was over. … A ding awoke her. Irritated at her escape being interrupted, Rae grabbed her phone and opened the messages. "Can we meet today?" It was the new sister missionaries. They had been pestering her for a few weeks now. She couldn't handle their cheeriness. Didn't they understand what she was going through? And how could they possibly be so excited about life when the whole world was going to shit? None of it mattered. Hope had been shattered. Life had been permanently altered. Happiness was no longer possible. "No," she responded. "I'm not in any shape to be meeting with you right now." "Can we give you something to read?" They asked. Rae let out a long sigh. She doubted it would do anything for her, but whatever. "Sure," she replied, rolling her eyes, and dropped her phone on the bed next to her. It dinged again a moment later, and she reluctantly picked it up. "Doctrine & Covenants 121" What in the world was that? She hadn't heard about that yet at church. "It talks about suffering," The next message read. Hmm. Rae opened her church app on her phone and clicked around until she found the referenced scripture. The first line was exactly what she had been asking for several weeks now: “O God, where art thou?” It continued with lamentations, anger at God, a deep feeling of despair, hopelessness, and abandonment. The man writing the passage was languishing in a cold, desolate jail cell while his family and friends were being severely persecuted for their faith. The prayer of complaints went on for several verses, and then God answered: “My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.” Rae read that line over and over again. “Thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment…endure it well…thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.” Rae's eyes flitted up to the passages on the closet door. She read them all again, one by one, remembering how she had felt when she'd created them. Hopeful. Loved. Cared for. This was just a small moment in the grand scheme of things. That realization didn't make it hurt any less, but it made her remember that everything happened for a reason, for the good of those who believed in God, even if she didn't completely understand it right now. That's when she remembered something her love had told her – Satan works extra hard against those who are on the right path. Satan is the one who doesn't want you to be happy. She might be in pain right now, but she wasn't going to let Satan win. Not after she had made it this far. Switching back to her messages, she typed "I will meet with you."

Delarai has been having a hard time lately. She moved to a small village in Belgium with her family not long ago. She misses her friends in California. To add to all of that stress, everyone is fearful of the Coronavirus. How can Delarai make friends when they are sitting so far away? As she arrives home after school and opens the door, the sweet smell of rose and pistachio fills her nostrils. That smell could only mean one thing: Nan-e Nokhodchi cookies for the Persian New Year! Delarai runs into the house and drops her books on the sofa. “Mummy? Is it really Nowruz already?!” she shouts with excitement. "What's Nowruz?" Delarai's five-year-old sister Annalisa asks, running in behind her, out of breath. Delarai turns and smiles at her sister, “It's the Persian New Year, and it means spring is here!” she exclaims. Annalisa thinks hard, trying to remember what Nowruz was like. “Is that when we jump over the fire?” she asks. “Kind of,” says Delarai, laughing, “That's the holiday starting things off, it is called Chahar Shanbe Suri!” “That's right,” Mummy says, “Great memory! Do you remember where that tradition comes from?” Delarai scrunches up her face, thinking. “I think it's about burning away all the bad stuff in our lives. I'm so excited! It's so much fun to jump over the fire with everyone, even though it is a little bit scary. Is it almost time to do it this year?” “Yes, darling, but this year because of coronavirus, we have to be more careful than usual. We cannot gather with other Iranians to do this as a group. We must stay safe, but I will ask Papa to put together some fire in the backyard and we can still celebrate together. You can even bring one friend from school, now that Belgium will allow it! For Nowruz, we can also see family and friends if we stay safely in our social distancing bubbles.” “But Mummy, I have a hard time just choosing one friend,” Annalisa moans, “I want to invite Benaya, and Louise, and Dana, and Jasmine...” Delarai shrugs her shoulders, “I don't want to invite anyone Mummy, I don't have any friends at school,” she says, sighing sadly. “We still have time to figure something out, honey. Now, we need to get busy doing khooneh tekooni, cleaning the house. Would you like to help me out?” As they clean, Delarai tells her mom about her latest school assignment from her teacher, Madame Caroline. The essay topic is to talk about how your family is celebrating a certain tradition differently in the times of corona. “You should write about Nowruz for your essay,” Mummy suggests. “That's a perfect idea!” Delarai says, excitedly. The next day at school, when Madame Caroline calls on Delarai to read, butterflies instantly erupt in her stomach. She stands up from her desk, swallowing her nerves, and gathers her courage. “How my family celebrates Nowruz in the times of corona: “Every year on the exact day of the Spring Equinox, the whole family gathers to celebrate Nowruz. Everyone in our family helps to prepare the house and puts on new clothes. By doing this spring cleaning, we wash away the bad things from the previous year and prepare for better things to come in the new year. In the evening of the last Wednesday before Nowruz, bonfires are lit and we all jump over the flames. The flames burn away sickness and bad luck and it is the warmest memory that continues in the rest of the year. After that, every family member comes and sits together around a special table called the ‘Haft-Seen', which means ‘seven S's'. On it, there are seven special objects, all of which begin with the ‘s' sound in the Farsi language and which symbolise something meaningful for the coming year.” Madame Caroline approaches Delarai and asks her what part of Nowruz she loves the most. Delarai thinks for a moment. She wants to say that the best part is getting presents for thirteen days straight, but that this year will be different because they cannot visit anyone. Usually, for Nowruz, they get to visit all family members and friends that they might have not seen for a while. Suddenly Delarai remembers that there is one part of Nowruz that even coronavirus cannot take away. Her great-grandmother always said that Nowruz is not Nowruz if someone leaves the celebrations with a heavy heart. Yes, Delarai thinks, this is the best part of Nowruz: trying to bring a smile to everybody's face. That is the core beauty of Nowruz. You forget about all of your negative thoughts and feelings and help others forget theirs too. You give them all away to the fire. Then you have a fresh space for your good thoughts, good deeds, and good actions.

2020. I feel like that's all I have to say now. "Hey man, how are you?" "Oh well, you know. 2020. Am I right?" Then just laugh it off like it's no big deal. But it is. This is the year we needed. To open our eyes and face reality and just punch a hole in it. This is not a year of light or happiness. This year is a bottomless pit that we keep falling into. Month after month there's always some obstacle preventing us from finding peace. Yet, you still sit here and do nothing. I know how you feel: hopeless. Tired. You alone can't do anything for anyone and you're stuck as you see media feeding us lies and you just want to believe in them so badly, that the Government really is trying to help us by giving us money. So we don't cause an uproar from quarantine and covid. Big corporations feeding us entertainment so they can live big while we think we're the lucky ones. What about those that are unlucky? The people forced, stuck, in an industry that allows harrassment behind the scenes and corruption as we sleep. You think you can't change that? What about women's suffrage? 1852. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. 1950's. Malcolm X, 1965. Brenda Howard, 1970. These people represented us valiantly and justly, they had courage and they were hungry for change. Where's your hunger? You have to crave for a better world, not just lie in the comforts of your own home. We can unite as one, because past the skin and past the cognitive works that make you, you, all I see is a human. A human who has the same core beliefs as I do: justice, equality, and peace. What we are living through is anything but. And it all starts with you. Living and breathing for a better world, because we can do it just like the people before us who left their beautiful legacies for our protection. We need to do right by all the people before us, and for those are crying out for help, by standing up and saying "I want change." Start a movement. Be apart of one. We have a voice and together we can move mountains? You want to be heard? Then talk until your throat runs dry. You want change? Stand up until your feet bleed. Stand against those who try to control you, look them in their eyes, and say: "I want change." Because it starts with you.