Gospel Story Finder

I have been blessed to hear many modern-day examples of youth, just like you, who are not afraid to arise and shine forth and allow their light to be a standard among their peers. Joanna was one of only three members of the Church in her high school and the only young woman in her ward. She committed to herself and the Lord that she would never use bad language. When she was paired with a young man for a school project who had not made the same commitment, she did not lower her standards. She asked him to respect and honor her values. Over time, with many gentle and some not-so-gentle reminders, her friend formed new habits and used cleaner language. Many people noticed the difference, including his father, who thanked Joanna for being a good influence in his son’s life.

In addition to responding to natural disasters, we undertook thousands of public health initiatives during the year. Over 1 million people benefited from Church-sponsored clean water projects in 25 countries. More than 60,500 people received wheelchairs in 60 nations. Early this year Sister Burton and I, with the South America North Area Presidency, participated with the First Lady of Colombia in a wheelchair presentation. Tears came easily as receivers and their caregivers expressed their appreciation. In 11 countries, over 54,000 individuals now enjoy improved vision. Over 16,500 health-care professionals in 23 countries were trained in infant neonatal resuscitation; they, in turn, will train many others. In a quest to eliminate measles, 2.8 million children and youth in 10 countries received immunizations. The combined effects of these outreach endeavors directly touched nearly 4 million people in 85 countries.

As a young missionary, I was assigned to a group of seventeen small islands in the South Pacific. One day a member told us that if we would be at a certain harbor on a particular island when the sun set the next day, a family would meet us there and listen to the discussions.
What joy that news brought! It was like finding a piece of gold. I quickly found four other members who were experienced sailors who agreed to take me to this island the next day.
We made good progress for a few hours, but as the sun climbed higher and the boat got farther from land, the wind began to play out and soon quit altogether, leaving us bobbing aimlessly on a smooth ocean.
Time passed. The sun got higher, the sea calmer. Nothing moved. We soon realized that unless something changed, we would not arrive by sundown. I suggested that we pray and plead with the Lord to send some wind. I offered a prayer. When I finished, things seemed calmer than ever. We continued drifting.
I thought, “There is a family at the harbor that wants to hear the gospel. We are here in the middle of the ocean and want to teach them. The Lord controls the elements [weather]. All that stands between us and the family is a little wind. Why won’t He send it? It’s a righteous desire.”
As I was so wondering, I noticed [a] faithful older brother move to the rear of the boat. He unlashed the tiny lifeboat and carefully lowered it over the side.
He looked at me and softly said, “Get in. I am going to row you to shore, and we need to leave now to make it by sundown.”
I was dumbfounded [speechless]. It was miles to shore. The sun was hot, and this man was old.
The old man did not look up, rest, or talk, but hour after hour he rowed and rowed and rowed.
Just as the sun dipped into the ocean, the skiff [boat] touched the shore of the harbor. A family was waiting. The old man spoke for the first time in hours and said, “Go. Teach them the truth. I’ll wait here.”
I told the family, “When we exercise faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, we can do things we could not otherwise do. When our hearts are determined to do right, the Lord gives us the power to do so.”
The family believed and eventually was baptized.

The youth of the Salem Oregon East Stake really cleaned up at a local 4-H outdoor camp. Heavy winter storms had toppled some trees and torn hundreds of smaller branches from others. The stake youth council decided that cleaning the camp would be a good service project.
The date was set, and come rain or shine, the stake youth were invited to help. One hundred and fourteen showed up to clean the cabins and lodge—inside and out. Trails were cleared, downed trees were cut up for firewood, fences were repaired, and windows were cleaned.
After a hard day’s work, the young people relaxed over dinner and games. The 4-H people were grateful for the help, and the youth felt they had made some new friends.

At the end of World War II, when I was 19 years old, enemy troops came to occupy my hometown in Europe. One evening my parents and I were sitting at our table when we heard a loud noise. We looked out through the blackout curtains, hung so that bombers couldn’t detect our house at night, to see enemy troops—along with their motorcycles, trucks, and tanks—coming into our village from two different directions. I was very frightened.
My father, always a faithful man, said simply, “Don’t be scared.” In the face of what was just outside our house, that was an extraordinary statement. We all knew that the soldiers would likely invade the neighborhood to pillage people’s homes. Father suggested that we kneel next to the couch and pray for Heavenly Father’s protection. He prayed, “Father in Heaven, please blind those soldiers. Make our house invisible so they won’t see it.”
After he prayed, my mother prayed. Then I prayed. Afterward, we returned to the table and cautiously looked out the window. We watched soldiers storm into every house on our street. Ours was the last one on the street. They approached our house but then passed our front gate and went to the next street. We watched them enter every house that we could see from our window.
After an invasion of about two hours, someone blew a loud whistle, and the soldiers returned to their vehicles. As they slowly left, we were tremendously relieved and knelt again, thanking Heavenly Father for His kindness and protection.
The next day I learned from a distraught friend that the soldiers had done terrible things in every house she knew of. When I told her that they had not come to our house, she was shocked. She said she had watched them go in our direction and that she knew of no homes in our sector that they had not entered. Our house was the only one the soldiers had left alone.
I know that Heavenly Father hears our pleas and answers them. Sometimes it seems that we might not ever receive an answer, and we wish that He would answer sooner. But I know that in our home 65 years ago, He answered right away.

Karalee M., 10, Idaho, likes to dance. She is a wonderful sister to her two brothers and her sister. She enjoys activity days and does well in school. She gave a Book of Mormon to her best friend.

Mike Bruneau’s parents and Church leaders told him that work is something to take seriously, to be honest at, even when it is not very glamorous. He took that advice to heart.
Mike, 15, is working as a temporary custodian for a Pepperell elementary school during the summer. If you have ever pushed a vacuum around your own living room you can probably testify that cleaning is not the most exciting job. Mike says the temptation to slack off at work is strong at times, but he sets goals and takes pride in his work.
“It could be boring because we do a lot of the same things over and over,” Mike said. “So I set a goal to make sure we get everything done before the end of the day.”
Mike also adds that he wants to be a good example because he’s LDS. He has had the opportunity to tell other employees about the Church and feels better about talking religion when others can see what kind of person he is trying to be.

Preeti Khadgi says that she has become more kindhearted and she enjoys talking to people more since she became a member of the Church. Preeti is one of the few whose entire family joined the Church, starting with her father, who was the first Nepali to be baptized in Nepal and is now the branch president.
Before joining the Church, Preeti’s mother had a dream in which she found a way “to make all of her children good children.” The Khadgis feel the Church is fulfilling that dream. Preeti’s brother, Pratik, is now serving in the India Bangalore Mission.

Several years ago, while serving as president of the Germany Munich Mission, I had an unusual experience that confirmed my faith. I was meeting, as I did on a regular basis, with my two assistants, Elder Betteridge and Elder Gregory Smith. Trying to emphasize a certain point, I referred to an experience I had some twenty years before as a young missionary in Trenton, New Jersey. At the mention of that city, Elder Smith, somewhat surprised, stated that his birthplace was Trenton, New Jersey, and asked when I had serve my mission there. I replied, “1954.” His excitement grew—that was the year of his birth. I then asked about his family background, suddenly realizing that I had played an important part in this young man’s life. Quickly the details came back to me.
There weren’t many members of the Church in Trenton when my companion and I were called to go help organize a branch there. The Lord blessed us, though, and we taught and baptized several families. The branch started to grow.
One day Sister Smith, a member of the branch whose husband was not then active, came to us and asked for a special blessing. She was pregnant, and the doctors feared that there would be complications with the development and the birth of the child. Following the Lord’s counsel in the scriptures, with great faith in the Lord and his priesthood, Sister Smith was asking for help.
I recorded the event in my missionary journal and even now recall the calm feeling I had as I sealed the annointing. Under the influence of the Holy Ghost, I promised Sister Smith that there would he no complications and that the child would be born healthy and strong and that it would serve the Lord.
Soon after that I was transferred, but I shall never forget meeting Sister Smith a few months later at a district conference. She placed a beautiful, healthy baby boy in may arms. To this day I remember the warmth, the gratitude, the humble pride, and the priesthood power that surged through my soul. In my journal I wrote that, though I did not yet know how it felt to be a father, it must be something like what I felt for the little Smith boy that day.
After my mission I lost contact with the Smiths and their son. However, as I sat in the mission home in Germany with Elders Smith and Betteridge, these sweet and beautiful events came back into my mind. Could this be the same boy I had held in my arms twenty-one years before? I asked Elder Smith if his mother had ever related any unusual circumstances regarding his birth. His answer confirmed my expectations, but I asked him to write his mother for the details. Two weeks later the answer came. She stated that an Elder Kelling, a missionary from Germany, had indeed given her a blessing and that consequently her son’s birth was normal.
It is difficult to find words for what I felt then. The Lord was returning to a humble servant a blessing he had given away many years ago. “Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days” (Eccl. 11:1). There in Germany, serving with me at that time in the Lord’s vineyard and assisting me in my sacred calling, was that young man whom I had assisted twenty-one years earlier. Through the Lord’s priesthood power, Elder Smith had been granted life and he had been given—health, energy, and great faith—all of which he was using to serve the Lord.
Joy and wonder and gratitude for the ways of the Lord then filled my soul. I did not know that Elder Smith was born in Trenton when I called him to be my assistant. In my stewardship were 200 missionaries, and I did not know where each was born. I know that Elder Smith was called through inspiration to be my assistant. It was not by chance that he was sent to the Germany Munich Mission. It was not by chance that I mentioned Trenton, New Jersey, in our meeting and that Elder Smith responded.
And what were the results of these things? Elder Smith’s testimony of the gospel and his calling were strengthened. My own testimony of the power of the priesthood was confirmed. I felt deeply our Heavenly Father’s kindness to us—he had mercifully and gently given powerful encouragement and assurance to a servant to help him carry out a most challenging assignment.

Years later the Holy Ghost comforted Elder Cook when he was called to be an Apostle. The Holy Ghost reminded him that he should have faith and not fear. Then Elder Cook felt peace and comfort and strength to be an Apostle and serve Heavenly Father.

I am a returned missionary and have had many personal trials as I have tried to live gospel principles. But the gospel and Seito no Michi strengthen me. Thank you for the comfort your articles offer.
Name withheld upon requestJapan

When I was a young boy, my father saved my life. Although I do not remember the incident, it is a story that has been told many times in my family.
I was two years old at the time, and my brother was four. We were with our father as he was feeding the cattle on our family farm. He didn’t notice that my brother and I had wandered off until my brother, scared and out of breath, came running to him. My brother could hardly speak. He struggled to even say, “Rolfe’s in … !” “Rolfe’s in … !” Fortunately my father realized that my brother was trying to tell him that I had fallen in the irrigation ditch.
My father ran toward the ditch where I had slipped off the ditch bank into the running water. He ran along the ditch. When he saw my red sweater rolling in that deathly water, he jumped into the ditch and pulled me out. After administering first aid, my father was assured that I was breathing again.
I will be forever indebted to my brother for having the presence of mind to alert my father. And I will be forever grateful to my father and his quick actions that saved my life.

My parents have always taught me to dress modestly. My best friend, who is not a member of the Church, gave me a sundress with thin spaghetti straps. I graciously thanked my friend, but I didn’t know what I should do. It was a very cute dress, and I wanted to be able to wear it. I talked to my mom about what I should do. Then I remembered that my Aunt Emily sometimes wears sundresses, but wears a T-shirt underneath to be modest. I am grateful for the example my aunt sets for me, and for my parents who teach me how to dress modestly so I can be ready to go to the temple someday. I’m glad I came up with a modest solution so that I can wear my cute new dress!

Age 60
Mayor
First counselor in bishopric
The tsunami that struck Samoa in September 2009 took my grandson. It took my sister’s son. I lost my home, two cars, and almost everything I owned. Nearly our entire village is moving into the hills so that this doesn’t happen again.
I know God loves those who survived because, through the Church, He has given us new homes, food, and water. I know He loves those who did not survive because, through His power, we can be together again. We have been blessed.

He was only sixty-eight, but he looked much older. His feeble body lay strapped to a narrow hospital bed. His breathing was shallow; his vital signs were failing. This was Charlie, one of twenty patients on the medical-surgical ward in the mental hospital where I was working as a nurse.
When I went on duty that night, his doctor told me Charlie was dying. But it was medically impossible to tell if his death would take a few hours or a few days. As night nurse, I would have to decide whether or not to call his family.
In a normal situation at a general hospital, I wouldn’t have hesitated to call the family, but here things were different. Here most of the patients had been hospitalized for a number of years. Families had learned to live without them; some had given up caring. Calling a family in the middle of the night without being certain whether a patient was actually dying was against hospital policy.
As I stood at Charlie’s bedside, wondering what to do, I tried to imagine him differently—no longer aged beyond his years and with poor physical health or without mental faculties including memory. I imagined him as a young husband with a happy wife and laughing children. I was filled with compassion for Charlie and his wife. They still loved each other, I was sure. They would want to be together at the time of his death—-but I stood between them because I didn’t know when that would be.
I bowed my head and prayed aloud to know if I should call Charlie’s wife or not. Words came forcefully to my mind and heart: “Contact Charlie’s wife right away; he will die before daybreak.” I knew that Charlie had less than six hours to live and that it would take his wife an hour to get here.
Immediately I phoned her, explaining that Charlie’s condition had worsened, and suggested that she come in. To my surprise, she was reluctant.
“I have a class to attend tomorrow,” she explained, “and I need to sleep.”
“But his condition is worsening,” I emphasized. “It might be a good idea if you were here.”
“What good would it do?” she said painfully. “He hasn’t recognized me in months. It’s hard to see him this way.” She sighed heavily. “All right,” she said, softening, “I’ll come in. I’ll be there between 7:00 and 8:00 in the morning.”
But that would be too late! Frantically, I tried to say the right thing. “I think you should come in sooner than that!” I said, “—like right away!”
“Why?” she asked.
I wanted to tell her what I’d heard in answer to prayer, but could not. “Ma’am,” I began slowly, “your husband is dying, and I think it would be a good idea for you to come in soon.” I paused. “But you need to decide.”
“Then I’ll come in first thing in the morning,” she replied, and hung up.
I was disappointed in her response, but I knew that the decision was hers to make. I tried not to think about it as I checked the other patients, but silently I prayed that she’d change her mind. Fifteen minutes later she called back.
“Do you really think he’s dying?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Do you think he’ll die before morning ?”
I paused briefly before answering. “Medically speaking, I can’t say for sure. But I feel that he will die before morning.”
“Then I’ll come in,” she said. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
I was elated about her decision to come, but as I thought about it, I became concerned. How sad it was that her dying husband wouldn’t be able to recognize her or realize the effort she was making to be with him.
I went about my duties pondering the situation. At 1:00 A.M. I again felt the need to pray. So, going to a linen closet where I could be alone, I once again asked our Father in Heaven for help—that Charlie would at least be able to recognize his wife, that this one last time there might be love between them—if not in words, at least in tenderness and shared feelings.
It was 3:00 A.M. when she arrived. I was surprised at how young she looked. Her graying hair was neatly styled; she was slim and petite. She looked a youthful fifty, while Charlie looked an ancient eighty. She introduced me to a lovely young woman who had come with her—her daughter.
I walked with them to Charlie’s room. As they went to his bedside, a light seemed to pass through Charlie’s vacant blue eyes. His clenched fists relaxed and he tried to speak. His wife sat in the chair beside him, gently stroking his arm. Then Charlie smiled.
“I think he recognizes me!” she cried. There were tears in her eyes. And in Charlie’s. And in mine.
“I know he does,” I answered, and quietly left the room.
Periodically I checked Charlie’s vital signs. They were slowly worsening, but Charlie continued to be calm and gentle—contrary to his usual erratic behavior. He responded to his wife’s touch and soft-spoken words of love. He did not speak, but they communicated; love flowed between them.
At 5:00 A.M. Charlie was still alive. Sunrise was less than forty-five minutes away; I began to worry about Charlie’s death—not if he would die, but how. He and his wife had spent such a beautiful, special time together! I hoped the memory would not be spoiled by a difficult struggle with death.
Quickly I returned to the linen closet for the third time that night and prayed that when the time came, his life might end quietly. As I knelt there, a feeling of calmness surrounded me, and I felt certain that everything would be all right.
As I was checking my other patients, an attendant came to find me. “It’s Charlie,” he said. “I don’t know if he’s gone or not.” I reached for a stethoscope from the nurses’ station as we walked by to listen for his heartbeat.
Charlie was lying still on the bed. His eyes were closed; a look of serene peace was on his face.
“He closed his eyes as I spoke to him,” his wife said. “Is he asleep?”
I placed the stethoscope on his still chest, knowing I wouldn’t hear anything. I turned to them and said, “Charlie has gone home.”
They wept quietly. Later I walked them to the door, letting my arms around them convey what words could not.
“Thanks for calling me,” Charlie’s wife whispered, squeezing my arm. “These few hours with Charlie were very precious!”

This is to compliment you on the quality of the first two issues of the New Era. I especially liked the February issue, with the editorial by President Harold B. Lee, the article on writing research papers, and the article on how to tie a tie. Since I am a bishop in one of the BYU wards, I took the occasion last Sunday to review the entire issue with my ward council and found them very receptive to the contents. I also made mention of “What I’d Like Most to Talk to My Son or Daughter About” in our fast and testimony meeting. Everything in the February issue was appropriate to some need or problem that I have felt as the bishop of a campus ward.
Robert K. MatthewsDirector, Academic ResearchSeminaries and Institutes

I remember the story of one young woman who was put in a similar situation. She was out on a date with a young man. He went out to a remote area, parked the car, turned the key off, and began to move over to the passenger side.

She said, “Stop where you are. I am not that kind of a girl. You take me home, or I will walk.” She was seven or eight miles away from her home. Later, she said, “I was never more frightened in my life when I made the decision, as well as when he took me home, because we were going 90 miles an hour down that country road.” And yet she had already made her decision.

As a young man beginning my missionary service, I boarded an airplane headed to Australia. Feeling very alone, anxious, and inadequate but having committed to serve, I desperately needed reassurance that what I believed in was true. I prayed and read my scriptures earnestly, but as the flight progressed, my self-doubt intensified and my physical condition deteriorated. After I had been struggling for several hours, a flight attendant walked down the aisle and stopped next to my seat. He took the Book of Mormon I was reading from my hands. He looked at the cover and said, “That’s a great book!” then handed the book back to me and kept walking. I never saw him again.
While his words echoed in my ears, I distinctly heard and felt in my heart, “I am here, and I know where you are. Just do your best, for I will take care of the rest.” On that airplane above the Pacific Ocean, I received a personal witness through my study of the Book of Mormon and the promptings of the Holy Spirit that my Savior knew who I was and that the gospel was true.

As President Cowley’s traveling companion in the mission field, I received instructions from him to keep my briefcase packed with a couple of changes of clothing. He said, “When I say ‘We’re going,’ you grab your bag, start the car, and don’t ask any questions.”

When that would happen, I would grab my bag and go to the car. Being a young, eager missionary, I often wondered where we were going; but I didn’t ask.

Once, after we had driven a few kilometers, he asked, “Would you like to know where we’re going?”

I said, “Yes.”

Then he said, “So would I! I’m not sure just where we’re going, but we’ll keep going; and when the Lord tells us to turn, we’ll turn, and we’ll end up where He wants us to be.”

Goody O’Grumpity by Carol Ryrie Brink When Goody O’Grumpity baked a cake, everyone, especially the children, hurried over to beg to lick the bowl. “And at last when the cake / was all golden and nice, / Goody took a great knife / and cut each a slice.” This easy-to-read story-poem is followed by an authentic seventeenth-century recipe that uses Goody’s ingredients.