Gospel Story Finder

Audralyn loves singing, swimming, and playing with her older brother. She has a rare disease called Sanfilippo Syndrome, which makes it hard for her to move on her own and speak. She uses her infectious giggle to make everyone feel loved and happy. Recently, the Young Women leaders and girls in her ward helped Audralyn earn her Young Womanhood Recognition. She was so excited! Through her example, those who know her have been inspired to be kind and show love to others.
Audralyn H., 13, Wyoming, USA

The Chocolate Touch, by Patrick Skene Catling, pictures by Margot Apple. John loves candy. He would have it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he could. Find out what happens when John wanders into a mysterious candy store and buys a special kind of chocolate.

Our pioneer ancestors survived and grew stronger in the face of extreme trials and afflictions and made the desert blossom as a rose. My own great-grandfather suffered so much from asthma that he had to walk a mile or two behind the covered wagons crossing the plains to avoid the dust. However, he always arrived at his destination and did his share of the work.

On the way, there’s a perfect chance to talk about life as a Latter-day Saint.
“I love living in Florida,” says Erin Mitchell, 13, one of three Beehives in the Panama City First Ward. “It hardly ever gets cold. And because it’s a tourist area, we get lots of visitors at church.”
Erin was “born and raised here. I’ve been a member for four years. Baptized April 27.” She rolls off the date like a great anniversary or a birthday, because for her it is both.
“I was in third grade. Our baby-sitter’s son’s friend, Lisa, started talking to me about the Church, and she asked me to go with her. I introduced my mom to her mom, and my mom joined the Church.” That was April 6. Then Erin was baptized. Then her father on June 21, and her brother James on February 25 the following year.
“I’m sure glad Lisa talked to me,” Erin says. “She brought our whole family into the Church.”

The incident at the pond was just one of many times that Elder Wirthlin and his father learned from each other. He related the following incident too.
“Once, when I was about seven, Father gave me five dollars to buy some items at the hardware store about a mile away. When I came back, we accounted for the money and found that they had given me a dollar too much in change. Father said, ‘Whenever you purchase anything, make sure that you get the correct change back, and be especially careful that they do not give you too much change.’ He insisted that I immediately walk back and return the dollar, which I did. This was a great lesson in honesty and in promptness in correcting an error.

Remember how I told you that I took jiu jitsu classes when I was your age?
Yeah.
Well, I was pretty bad at it! I almost quit. But I kept trying.
And then you won a hundred trophies?
Nope!
But I worked hard. And I got stronger. I knew God wanted me to learn and grow.

One winter day as Christmas approached, I thought back to an experience from my boyhood. I was just 11. Our Primary president, Melissa, was an older and loving gray-haired lady. One day at Primary, Melissa asked me to stay behind and visit with her. There the two of us sat in the otherwise empty chapel. She placed her arm about my shoulder and began to cry. Surprised, I asked her why she was crying. She replied: “I don’t seem to be able to encourage the Trail Builder boys to be reverent during the opening exercises of Primary. Would you be willing to help me, Tommy?” I promised her I would. Strangely to me, but not to Melissa, that ended any problem of reverence in that Primary. She had gone to the source of the problem—me. The solution was love.
The years flew by. Marvelous Melissa, now in her nineties, lived in a nursing facility in the northwest part of Salt Lake City. Just before Christmas I determined to visit my beloved Primary president. Over the car radio, I heard the song “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing.” I reflected on the visit made by wise men those long years ago. They brought gifts of gold, of frankincense, and of myrrh. I brought only the gift of love and a desire to say “Thank you.”
I found Melissa in the lunchroom. She stared at her plate of food, teasing it with the fork she held in her aged hand. Not a bite did she eat. As I spoke to her, my words were met with a benign but blank stare. I took the fork in hand and began to feed Melissa, talking all the time I did so about her service to boys and girls as a Primary worker. There wasn’t so much as a glimmer of recognition, far less a spoken word. Two other residents of the nursing home gazed at me with puzzled expressions. At last they spoke, saying: “She doesn’t know anyone, even her own family. She hasn’t said a word in all the years she’s been here.”
Lunch ended. My one-sided conversation wound down. I stood to leave. I held her frail hand in mine, gazed into her wrinkled but beautiful countenance, and said: “God bless you, Melissa. Merry Christmas.” Without warning, she spoke the words: “I know you. You’re Tommy Monson, my Primary boy. How I love you.” She pressed my hand to her lips and bestowed on it the kiss of love. Tears coursed down her cheeks and bathed our clasped hands. Those hands, that day, were hallowed by heaven and graced by God. The herald angels did sing. Outside the sky was blue—azure blue. The air was cool—crispy cool. The snow was white—crystal white. The words of the Master seemed to have a personal meaning never before fully felt: “Woman, behold thy son!” And to His disciple, “Behold thy mother!” (John 19:26–27).

Ivanna: I don’t think of the commandments as restrictive or hard. Instead, I see the blessings that come from them, especially the Word of Wisdom. In Ukraine, a lot of teenagers drink alcohol. I work at a horse stable, and when coworkers offer me alcohol, I tell them I don’t drink. This hasn’t made them think any less of me. I stood my ground and didn’t fall into temptation. I know I am not alone. Heavenly Father supports me whenever I have troubles.

One mother tells the story of her initial attempt to do something with her antagonistic daughter. For some time the daughter had associated with a group of girls whose behavior—drinking, late parties, and skipping school classes—had been the cause of much contention in the home. Soon the only conversation the girl had with her parents was loud and condemning. The mother, finally realizing how far their relationship had deteriorated, determined to do something about it.

The daughter was unwilling to spend time with her mother in any kind of activity, but she was willing to let her mother drive her to school each morning. The first few weeks were strained; their conversations were simple questions with yes/no answers. But as time went on and the daughter saw that her mother would not criticize or condemn her, she began to open up to her mother, to share her life and feelings with her. Their morning rides became close and comfortable conversations, and the young girl found her mother to be a loyal friend.

Eventually the handcarts were obtained, and our family was assigned to Captain Edward Martin’s company. Near the end of July 1856, we cheerfully began our journey to Zion. Our family had three carts when we started out. Each cart could carry about 120 pounds of baggage, 100 pounds of flour, cooking utensils, and additional food. There were 576 people in our company. I’d never been with so many members of the Church!
Pulling the handcarts wasn’t bad at first. But many of them broke down because they were built of green wood. We pulled those carts three hundred miles to Florence, Nebraska. The last members of our company, and the Willie company, arrived there on August 22. As soon as we arrived, there was some disagreement as to whether we should continue on. Some said that it was too late in the year. They felt that we should set up a winter camp in Florence and wait until spring to travel to Salt Lake City. But most of the Saints were for starting immediately. After much discussion, it was decided to continue on. We were anxious to finish our long journey. About a thousand miles remained ahead of us, but we had already come so many miles that another thousand seemed like a short trip. We didn’t know that the worst part of our journey was still ahead.

Thank you so much for the special missionary issue (June 1989). Today a very close friend left for the MTC. We had grown up together, and it was very hard to see him go. For the past couple of weeks I have been pondering why we must send out missionaries, and it seemed like missions were less important than friendships. The pain of saying good-bye didn’t seem worth it. I had always known that going on a mission is the only thing to do, but when it came down to my friend leaving, I wasn’t so sure. Today, after he left, I picked up the missionary issue and read the wonderful stories and articles. It was then that I realized the divine importance of missionary work, a work of a loving Heavenly Father who is gathering his children. I feel so much better about my friend and his choice. Thank you again for the June issue. It reached me when nothing else could.
Carrie JacobsSalt Lake City, Utah

When one of our sons was 11 years old, he woke up with a bad headache. At first I thought he was just delaying going to school, but I quickly realized he had a high fever. I took him to the doctor, and soon we were rushing to the hospital. There he was diagnosed with spinal meningitis, a serious illness.
As his condition became more severe, he began having seizures. The doctor asked me to step out of the room. As I walked into the hall, I was afraid and began to cry. A woman I did not know put her arms around me. I prayed out loud that Heavenly Father would help my son and that all would be well. I remember feeling a great peace.
My son had surgery and many weeks of recovery. Today he is healthy, married, and a father of two beautiful girls. This experience was such an example to me of the power of prayer.

“As I have wrestled with the intense pain caused by my recent injury, I have felt even deeper appreciation for Jesus Christ and the incomprehensible gift of His Atonement. Think of it! The Savior suffered ‘pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind’ so that He can comfort us, heal us, [and] rescue us in times of need.”

He continued: “My injury has caused me to reflect again and again on ‘the greatness of the Holy One of Israel.’ During my healing, the Lord has manifested His divine power in peaceful and unmistakable ways.”

I didn’t want my conversations with my mother to always end with an argument, so I decided to change how I communicated. I tried to say a prayer before we were about to engage in a fight. I also tried to think ahead about what to say or not say. My mother and I have been getting along much better ever since.
Lin H., 17, Taichung, Taiwan

When I was young, I questioned the existence of God because of my arrogance and doubts about my self-worth. I desired worldly praise at school, at work, and even at church. I belittled those closest to me because the lower I pushed them, the higher I would see myself.
I ruined relationships with my pride. I put my love of the world before the love that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ had for me and the love that I should have had for Them. This all caused so much grief and heartache.
As I got older and experienced some challenges, I realized I was seeking the glories of the world because I thought they defined my worth. I wasn’t aware of what truly gave me value—my divine identity.
After realizing I was seeking the things of the world, I eventually decided to turn toward Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I sought to know more about Their love for me and who I truly was.
As I studied the scriptures, I was able to deepen my faith in the blessings we can gain when we understand our identity. I love the story of Moses speaking with God on a mountaintop. In just a few verses, God calls Moses His son three times (see Moses 1:4–7). Shortly after this experience, Moses is tempted by Satan and is able to use his knowledge of his divine identity to resist him (see Moses 1:12–24).
Like Moses, I’ve been strengthened by the knowledge that I am a son of God. Because of this knowledge, I’ve been able to keep an eternal perspective and focus on what really matters. And as I’ve studied further, I’ve realized just how personally Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ know us.

For example, Spencer McMullin, a college student from Raymond, Alberta, Canada, has set up his own business of cleaning carpets in apartment buildings. He has been able to earn sufficient money to pay for his schooling expenses. Spencer says, “There are always jobs around if you are willing to spend a little time and use a little imagination in looking for them. I Started my own company after working for a friend and learning the business from him. I found it exciting to learn a trade and earn money at the same time. I like to check in the classified ads of popular magazines because many of these contain sections on job opportunities.

A few years ago, I found myself in a serious rut. My self-esteem was low, I focused only on my insecurities, and I constantly compared myself to others.
Regardless of how much I read my scriptures and prayed, I couldn’t shake my overwhelming feelings of inadequacy. I had faith in God, but I didn’t have faith in my ability to feel better.
Eventually, I grew so desperate for relief that I considered trying something I usually rolled my eyes at: positive thinking.
I realized that if I wanted to change my life, I needed to change my thoughts.
As I tried this, it became clear to me that I was righteously exercising a priceless right—I was exercising my agency.
Because my thoughts were focused mostly on my fears and insecurities, I didn’t feel much joy in my life. I prayed for Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to take away my problems. But I’d forgotten that, in accordance with Heavenly Father’s plan, Christ had also preserved my ability to make choices.
One key to shifting my mindset and feeling better was to choose living with gratitude.
One key to shifting my mindset and feeling better was to choose living with gratitude.
Instead of engaging in negative self-talk, I started actively looking for good things in my day. Sometimes it was a kind comment from a classmate. Other times it was walking home on a beautiful spring evening or eating a good meal.
I soon realized that practicing gratitude magnified my enjoyment of life. Try it! Being mindful of any goodness we experience multiplies its effect (see Doctrine and Covenants 78:19).
I collected good moments like pieces of treasure, and at the end of each day, I was always surprised by how blessed and thankful I felt. The hard parts of my life didn’t disappear, but they began to lose their sting.
As I chose to focus on moments of joy, laughter, peace, and inspiration, I realized that I could choose to create more of them. The power was in me!
My life has changed as I’ve chosen to change my thoughts. I’m more confident, kind, and joyful. I’m more open to trying new things and accepting opportunities. And I’m better at noticing the Lord’s hand in my life.
With the help of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, I’ve become better at making decisions that bring me true happiness and peace.

Members of my seminary class often share missionary experiences. But one time, two months had gone by since anyone shared, so I thought it was time to make a move. I prayed to Heavenly Father, saying that if He would let me have a missionary experience that day at school, I’d do everything in my power to teach others as much about the gospel as I possibly could. The first question came from my locker partner and close friend, Tabitha.
“Are Mormons Christians?” she asked.
“Of course I’m a Christian!” I cheerfully responded, “I believe in Jesus. Did you know that the actual name of my church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?” Then we talked a little more.
Throughout the day it seemed like people flooded me with questions.
The next day, as I related my stories to my seminary class, I knew that I’d have missionary moments as long as I desired them.

Nima and his family lived in Banepa, Nepal, at the base of the Himalayas, the highest mountains in the world. His people, the Sherpas, call the highest peak, Mount Everest, Sagarmatha (House of Snow).
Men and women come from all over the world to Mount Everest. They come to take pictures of it. They come to climb it and to place their nation’s flag on its summit. Climbing this mountain is a test of human strength against the rigor of the mountain.
Because Nima’s father, Mingma, was a strong and experienced porter, he was sought after as a porter and a guide. That was what Nima wanted to become too.
Other boys of twelve had already begun carrying supplies for short distances to the base camps near the bottoms of the mountains. But because Nima had been born with a twisted foot, his parents thought that he would surely be hurt or killed if he lost his balance on the mountain trail.
A week ago a party of climbers had come from the capital city of Katmandu to hire porters. How Nima hoped they would hire him! But it was no use. Even though his own father was hired as head porter and would choose the men he needed to help him, he would not take Nima.
In this expedition there were doctors and scientists who would study the terrain and ice formations, the weather, and the effect of the thin air on the climbers.
The expedition moved out of town in a long, long line. Most of the men of Banepa were needed to carry all of the supplies and equipment. Nima was left with the women and young children.
The evening after the expedition’s departure, a rumor ran through the streets that a child was sick with smallpox!
Nima’s mother went to the house of the sick child to learn if the frightening report was true. She came home looking grave. “I’m sure that the child has smallpox,” she said. “If only the expedition had been delayed! There were doctors among the men.”
After everyone else was asleep, Nima sat staring at the red coals of the fire. He saw a chance to prove his strength, but doubt haunted him. Surely his parents would have more confidence in him if he proved that he could climb the mountain trails. Suddenly Nima stood up and shook the doubts from his mind. He would not be controlled by doubts!
Just before the roosters woke the town, Nima set out with a bundle on his shoulders. He was going to find the foreign doctors and ask for help for the sick child. In one hand he held firmly a T-bar staff, the staff of the porters. And inside his bundle he had everything he would need for a long hike: a blanket, food for two days, and a container of water.
The first part of the hike was pleasant, and Nima moved along at a steady pace. Then, little by little, his left leg began to ache, and he had to stop often to rest. Finally, as the long day wore itself out, his leg and foot both began throbbing with pain. At every step, he used the staff to take the weight off his body. The temptation to make camp and lie down was strong, but he would not forget his mission. With the coming of darkness he saw the fires of the camp. He’d made it—but without the fifty-pound load he would have been carrying if he’d been working as a porter! Nima was dizzy with pain.
He found his father eating the evening rice with his friends. Quickly he told them about the sick child.
“But Nima, why did your mother so foolishly send you for the doctor?” asked his father.
“She does not even know I came,” answered Nima.
“I see.” Mingma put a hand on Nima’s shoulder. They went together to the tent of Dr. Kelly, who showed his concern as he heard about the trouble in town.
“Wait, please,” the doctor said. He went to talk with others of his party. When he returned, he said he would go back with Nima to Banepa the next morning.
Nima did not want to think about going down the same path he’d just come up. I must do it somehow, he decided, massaging his foot and leg underneath his blanket. He would not admit his agony to anyone.
Morning came too soon. But Nima got up, ate his rice, and waited for Dr. Kelly. How will I ever make it? he wondered. Truly Ihave been foolish. Not having tried shorter hikes first, this distance is unbearable.
The doctor arrived, and the two of them started down the path. As the sun rose higher and higher and the path’s descent became steeper, the doctor took off his jacket. “I need a rest stop,” he said.
Nima sank onto a stone gratefully. He was not sure he could get up again.
Dr. Kelly took some chocolate from his pack and gave Nima a piece. “You are a strong-willed boy, Nima,” he said. “I think you are in great pain.”
“I like to hike,” said Nima.
“I’m sure you do,” the doctor replied, “but I am not speaking of that. I am concerned about the pain you are trying to hide.”
“I will be a porter like my father,” said Nima.
“That is a fine plan,” the doctor said, “but if you are serious about it, you must do something about your handicap.”
Nima looked away. He did not like this talk about his handicap.
“One of the doctors with us is a bone specialist,” Dr. Kelly went on. “Perhaps I could ask him to look at your foot to see if it might be straightened with surgery.”
“No,” answered Nima. “I don’t need help. Thank you.”
But after they started again, Nima’s mind seethed with the ideas the doctor had planted. Is it possible? Can something be done to make walking easier for me, to make the pain go away forever?
A short time later Nima admitted that he needed to rest again. While they rested, Nima asked hesitantly, “Have you seen others with a foot like mine?”
The doctor nodded.
“And these others you have seen—have they been helped so that they can walk more easily?”
“Yes, Nima.”
Nima felt tears welling up in his eyes. He turned away. It was a sweet hope. But it was also a bitter thing to admit his imperfection.
Nima and the doctor had to take many rests because of Nima’s foot, and it was dark when they reached the town. “I have delayed you,” said Nima. “It is something a porter would never do.”
“But today we have walked as friends,” said Dr. Kelly. “I think, with help, that you will climb to the tops of many mountains.”
Nima’s face brightened.
“This is not my first experience with mountains,” continued Dr. Kelly. “I have climbed many. It takes physical strength, but it also takes determination and self-confidence.”
Nima nodded. He understood these things from his father.
“I think you have the necessary inner strength,” said the doctor. “Otherwise you would not have made it to our camp yesterday or back home again today.”
Nima smiled. “What is the name of the doctor who is your friend?” he asked.
“Dr. Holland,” answered the doctor. “Would you like to meet him?”
Nima looked up at the House of Snow gleaming in the pale moonlight. “Yes, please,” he said. “I truly would.”

I was surprised by how comfortable the endowment was. There were parts of the endowment session that were different than the way we worship at Church, but all of it had meaning. Now, I feel like I can focus easily on the Spirit. It’s quiet and there are no distractions, so I just take some time to be with God.
Luke E., 21, Alberta, Canada
Luke E.: Provo City Center Temple
Illustrations by Kahee Shin