Gospel Story Finder

When Nuliati heard that Kiconco was going to help them get a house, she fell to her knees and cried. She had been praying that God would help her. Kiconco’s mom says, “She got to the point that she suffered so much that she thought God didn’t know she existed.” But God had been listening to Nuliati’s prayers, and they were answered in a unique way.

When I was a young boy, about 12 years old, I loved to play baseball. The only piece of athletic equipment that we had around our house was an old baseball mitt. We didn’t have footballs in those days. We didn’t have a lot of other things. I thought the great moment in my life would be that I would be playing baseball for the New York Yankees, and this was back in the days when the Yankees were a great team. I would be playing for them in the World Series, the games tied 3 and 3. Now in the deciding game, guess who would get up to bat? As I stood at the plate, the pitcher would pitch the ball exactly where I’d want it, I’d knock it out of Yankee Stadium, and I would become the hero of the World Series. I thought that would be the great moment of my life. But I want you to know that that isn’t true.

A few years ago I sat in the Los Angeles Temple in a little sealing room with my wife, Ruby. We had our sons there with their wives—they’d been married just for a short time—and our sweet daughter was kneeling at the altar, holding the hand of the young man she was to be sealed to. And as I looked around the room, I then realized that this was the great moment of my life because I had in that room everything that was precious to me—everything. My wife was there, my eternal sweetheart and companion. Our three children were there with their eternal companions. And I thought, David, in your youth you had things all wrong. You thought some worldly event of some kind might be the great event of your life. But now I was witnessing that great event. I was there, I was feeling it, I felt a part of it, and I knew in that little white sealing room—clean, sweet, pure in that room—with all of my family there, that this was the great moment of my life.

“Nai Nai’s on the phone!” Mom’s called out. Tom leaped from the couch and ran to find Mom. He took the phone from Mom’s outstretched hand and cradled it against his ear.
“Wei? Hello?” Tom said, a large grin on his face.
Nai Nai was Tom’s grandmother who lived overseas with Tom’s grandfather, Ye Ye. Tom loved getting calls from them, even though he didn’t speak Chinese very well.
“Tom! We miss you,” Nai Nai said in Chinese.
“I miss you too!” Tom said. “Are you OK?”
“Yes! We are OK,” Nai Nai answered.
Tom didn’t know how to ask about the thing he was worrying about. He wondered how to say “coronavirus” in Chinese. Tom had heard all about the coronavirus on the news. He knew that many people all over the world were sick and that most countries were asking people to stay home to keep the virus from spreading.
“Nai Nai, are you sick?” Tom asked. He hoped Nai Nai would understand. He has spent a lot of time worrying about his grandparents.
“No!” she answered. “Hen hao! Very well!”
Tom smiled and breathed a huge sigh of relief. After a few minutes of chatting with Nai Nai, he passed the phone back to Mom. Soon Tom heard Mom say, “Hao, zai jian! Goodbye!”
After Mom hung up the phone, she turned to look at Tom. “Nai Nai says the stores where she lives have already run out of face masks. She asked if I could check the store here to see if there are any masks left. If we find any, we’ll send them to Nai Nai and Ye Ye.”
“Can I come too? I want to help!” Tom ran and put his shoes on. He couldn’t be with Ye Ye and Nai Nai right now, but he could at least do something small to help!
At the store, Mom pushed the shopping cart toward the pharmacy. They were very careful not to touch anything they weren’t buying and to not get too close to other shoppers. When they reached the pharmacy, Mom found the right shelf. There weren’t very many masks left. Mom put one box of masks in her cart. Tom spotted a bottle of green hand sanitizer and showed it to Mom.
“What about this? They could use it to help keep their hands clean!”
“Great idea,” Mom agreed. Tom set it in the cart.
Later, at the post office, Mom chose a red mailing box with spring blossoms. Tom helped put in the masks, the hand sanitizer, and a few packages of cookies. Mom closed the box with tape and brought it to the counter to buy postage.
Tom watched the mail worker take the package and get it ready to ship far away to Nai Nai and Ye Ye. Tom was still worried about his grandparents, but doing something to help made him feel a little better already.
“I’m glad we were able to help Ye Ye and Nai Nai somehow,” Tom said. “I really hope they don’t get sick.”
“Me too,” Mom agreed.
Tom thought about how happy his grandparents would be when they got the package. “They might even be able to share the masks with their friends,” Tom said.
“That’s right! Even when scary things happen, there is always a way we can help.”
As Tom left the post office with Mom, he felt warm all over. He knew that helping others was what Heavenly Father wanted him to do.

Karoly Takacs, a Hungarian, was recognized as the best pistol shot in the world. More than anything he wanted to win in the Olympics. But one day driving home, Takacs was in a crash, and doctors had to amputate his right arm—his shooting arm.
Takacs’s recovery was slow. It wasn’t a physical challenge, but an emotional one. He had hit bottom. People wanted to help but there was little they could do. Takacs began to avoid his friends; even his family didn’t know where he spent his time. But Karoly Takacs was preparing. In solitude he had trained his left arm and his aiming eye, a training that’s far more of an intellectual mastery than most people realize. By the next Olympics, Takacs was ready.
When the pistol event was over, this one-armed Hungarian stood, the cheers rising about him, on the topmost step of the winner’s platform with a gold medal around his neck.
Takacs showed us something more than his ability to shoot. He proved that human beings have a largely untapped comeback capacity. He discovered for himself the exciting fact that hitting bottom does not mean defeat, but that it just signals the end of downward movement. As one friend told me, “The bottom can be something to bounce on.”

May I tell a little story? More than half a century ago, I was standing on a little railway station platform in Cardston, Canada. I was leaving for England on a mission. My saintly mother stood there with me and held my hand. This is what she said. “Hugh, my son, do you remember when you were a little boy you often had bad dreams, nightmares, and you called out to me as I was sleeping in the next room: ‘Mother, Mother, are you there?’ Do you remember I always said, ‘Yes, my son, I’m here. Just turn over and go to sleep. Everything is all right.’” She said, “My boy, five thousand miles must now separate us, across a continent and an ocean. You are not going to have bad dreams only at night, but many times, in the daytime, you are going to want to call for help and comfort. Son, when you are beset with difficulties, when you meet temptation, when you are confused and don’t know where to go, call out and say, ‘Father, are you there?’” She said, “My boy, I promise you He will always answer and you need not fear.”
My dear sisters, through the intervening years, countless occasions have arisen where men could not help me much, when I felt alone, where I had a nightmare with my eyes wide open. I have taken the advice of my mother and have said, “Father, are you there?” Now He has not spoken to me audibly; He has not appeared to me personally; but He has always answered me. There has come into my heart a quiet peace which enabled me to know that I could, figuratively, turn over and go to sleep.
Hugh B. BrownThe Abundant Life (Bookcraft 1965) pp. 202–3.

On 24 November 2016, as Sister Kasimbe returned home after an honourable missionary service, her mission president gave her $50 for eventualities during her trip home. She travelled safely and there were no eventualities. Upon her return home, she handed the $50 to her stake president, who in turn gave it back to the mission president. She later learnt from her stake president that her mission president said that she was one of the very few missionaries who returned such funds. Sister Kasimbe knew that she was returning home, where such money would go a long way, since her mother was striving to afford the necessities of life. Sister Kasimbe knew too that this was not her money. She was determined to be totally honest with great integrity even if that meant sleeping on an empty stomach. She tells her own experience: “When I arrived at home, life was difficult. My mother sacrificed her earnings for my welcoming home party. After two days at home, we were struggling to have meals on the table, so I prayed for a miracle. Soon after my prayer, I felt to look in my tithing envelope in which I found $10, which was a great miracle for my family”.

When I was getting my hair cut, one of the ladies there gave me a cup of tea. I said, “No thank you.”
She tried to give it to me again. I still said, “No thank you.”
Morgan’s mother writes: “The lady cutting Morgan’s hair was very insistent, trying to get her to drink the tea. I was very proud of her. She was very polite, while sticking to her belief in the Word of Wisdom. She wanted to share this in the Friend. I think she’s a wonderful child!”

Before I married my wife, Stacey, people told me how to find the right person to marry. They said I should make a list of the qualities I was looking for in a spouse.
My list went something like this: I want to marry a young woman who is spiritual, is a returned missionary, has a strong testimony, and wants to be a mother and raise our children in the gospel. It would also be nice if she is tall, athletic, and has blonde hair.
As I was dating, I had a hard time finding a young woman with all of those characteristics. Young women are much more than a list of characteristics. They have different personalities, different likes and dislikes. Some are easier to talk to than others. Some are tall, some short. Some like sports, some don’t.
I began to revise and prioritize my list.
The most important change came from a sentence in my patriarchal blessing that says Heavenly Father was preparing a young woman for me to marry in the temple. That sentence, along with prayer and the Spirit, was my guide.
My wife is short, has dark brown hair, didn’t go on a mission, and doesn’t play sports. But as we dated, I found that she is kind, easy to talk to, fun to be with, has a strong testimony, and wants to raise children in the gospel.
So I decided that hair color and athletic ability weren’t as important to me as seeking to know Heavenly Father’s will in deciding whom to marry. When I was with Stacey, I felt at peace. I felt she was the one Heavenly Father had prepared for me to marry. Stacey and I were sealed in the temple.
I’m glad I put learning and obeying Heavenly Father’s will at the top of my list.

I’m reminded of the little child who came to her daddy and said, “Give me something hard to do.” So he thought of things she could do, but she would say, “No, daddy, that isn’t hard enough. I want something hard to do.” He was carrying his briefcase into the house, and he said, “Well, carry this; this will be very hard to carry.” She grabbed hold. Oh, boy, it was heavy! She said, “I think I can.” She struggled and staggered until she finally got it to the house. We all like to feel that we have met the challenge of something hard to do.

During that same Saturday afternoon leadership meeting, I noticed some youth slip into the meeting and reverently and attentively listen to the teachings and discussion. I was surprised to see them, as those invited to the leadership meeting were adult district and branch council members, and typically youth are not anxious to sit through long additional Church meetings, especially when not directed at them. After the meeting, we went to meet these fine young people and to learn more about them. I was astonished to learn that they had just arrived on a public transportation bus from seven hours away. They had come straight to the meetinghouse with the desire to feel the Spirit during this weekend district conference. It was obvious that they were full of joy at being in the midst of fellow members of the Church far from their homes in the north of Namibia. Several were new converts, and several were actively preparing to serve missions despite living in a town where there was no organized unit of the Church. They were led by a wonderful returned missionary who radiates the joy of the gospel and is appropriately named Happy. Immediately following the Sunday session of the conference, this impressive group of young people would once again get on a bus for the seven-hour return journey so they could be home in time for school and work on Monday. I marveled at their willingness to journey from so far at great personal sacrifice to hear the word of the Lord and am delighted to know that now in their own town of Ongwediva, we have since organized a branch of the Church.

While I was reading the August 1997 issue of A Liahona (Portuguese), I realized, especially when I read “A Stitch in Time,” that the photographs and artwork have a great influence. I would like to thank the inspired and talented people who illustrate the books, manuals, teaching aids, and magazines published by the Church.
Giuliana Oliveira Giusti,Baeta Neves Ward, São Bernardo Brazil Stake

• Your friend had an operation and won’t be back in school for a month; he can have visitors after school but only during the time you usually play basketball with your other friends.

“Before I found the Church, I felt that all was hopeless, that there was no point in trying to succeed or work for a future,” says Alexandra. “Everywhere there was war, and it seemed that the world would end in catastrophe. Becoming a member of the Church has given me a rest from that sorrow.”
Alexandra has found a scripture that seems to apply directly to her, and it has become her favorite:
“And it shall come to pass in that day that the Lord shall give thee rest, from thy sorrow, and from thy fear, and from the hard bondage wherein thou wast made to serve” (2 Ne. 24:3).

One member is teaching piano to four black students; and because no instruments are available in their homes or in the neighborhood, she picks the students up and takes them to the institute, where pianos are available.

Both Emily and Amanda chose to not attend parties, even though they wanted to go to them. Emily decided to not go to her friend’s house when she learned that her friend’s parents were not going to be there. Amanda decided to not go to a swimming party when she learned that it would be on a Sunday. Neither girl knew that her sister had turned down an invitation, but both were trying to follow the Savior’s commandments. Emily wanted to honor her parents’ rules and choose the right; Amanda was sad to miss the party, but she knew that her decision “would make Jesus happy.” Both felt good about their decisions.

The sun hung low after a warm summer day in Pacheco, in the Latter-day Saint colonies in Mexico. As five-year-old Mae and two-year-old Wasel played outside, they could smell smoke wafting from adobe chimneys and open fires. Supper would be ready soon. Sure enough, Mama called, “Mae! Wasel! Go wash up.” The girls quickly obeyed and went inside to eat.
After supper, Mama said, “Come, little Wasel.” Every night Wasel went with Mama and Papa to herd the cows. Mae and baby David stayed home with Aunt Hattie. Wasel loved this time alone with her parents. She was so excited that she ran outside still clutching her dinner spoon.
“I don’t think Wasel should come with us tonight. We have to care for some horses, and it may be too far for her to walk,” Papa said.
Mama nodded. “Wasel, Mama and Papa are going on a long walk tonight. Take that spoon back to the house and give it to Aunt Hattie. Then you can play with the other children, and tomorrow you can come with us to get the cows.”
Wasel just stood there, holding her spoon. She didn’t want to go back to the house.
“Run along now,” Mama said. Wasel turned and ran toward the house, but when her parents were out of sight, she put her spoon near the door and decided to go get the cows after all. She knew the way to the pasture. But she didn’t know that her parents hadn’t gone straight there.
The shadows grew long as the sun sank lower. Wasel walked and walked, through fields and corn patches. Wolves howled in the distance. Wasel came to a marshy area and walked there for a long time. She liked to feel the mud squishing between her bare toes.
When Mama and Papa returned from the cow pasture, Mama went inside to put the children to bed, and Papa went to the barn to take care of the animals.
“Hattie, where is Wasel?” Mama asked.
Aunt Hattie froze. “Wasn’t she with you?”
“Yes, but we sent her back here.”
“Well, I haven’t seen her!” Aunt Hattie exclaimed.
Mama and Aunt Hattie called for Wasel and searched in all the rooms and in the yard. Then Mama ran to the barn.
“Wasel isn’t here. I’m going to look for her,” she told Papa.
“She’s probably asleep somewhere,” Papa said. “I’ll look in the house.”
Mama knew that Wasel wasn’t in the house. She ran to the river and the cornfield calling, “Wasel! Wasel! Can you hear me, Wasel?” There was no answer, so she returned to the house.
“I think we need help,” Papa said.
Just then, Aunt Hattie pointed out the window. “Look! It’s Brother Carroll.”
Papa ran outside and stopped him. “Wasel is lost,” he explained.
“I’m on my way to the church for a meeting,” Brother Carroll said. “I’ll tell everyone that you need help looking for her.”
When Brother Carroll told Bishop Hardy that Wasel was lost, Bishop Hardy dismissed the meeting and asked the brethren to go search for her.
As everyone searched under the beds, in the outbuildings, and through the house, Mama began to fear for Wasel’s life. “We are wasting time looking for her here. We have already done that, and I know she’s not here!” she cried.
Wasel’s grandpa gathered the men together. “Let’s divide into small groups and circle the area,” he said. “Whoever finds her will return here and fire a gun five times to signal the rest of us.”
One group went with the bishop. They followed the road toward the cow pasture.
“Look, Bishop!” someone shouted. “Little footprints.”
The men held their lanterns high and carefully followed the footprints until they reached the marsh. The ground was too moist there to hold any tracks.
Bishop Hardy instructed the men to kneel on the soggy ground. Then he prayed for Wasel’s safety and for guidance to find her.
With teary eyes, Bishop Hardy rose. He thought he heard something and paused to listen. There, very faintly—yes! He could hear her! The others strained but heard nothing. “She’s calling for her mama!” he exclaimed.
Bishop Hardy ran toward the sound he heard so clearly. He stopped occasionally to listen—“Mama!”—and hurried on. He ran through fields and over hills for nearly two miles (3 km). He found himself in a rugged canyon, the moonlight falling softly around him. Then, suddenly, he saw Wasel walking wearily along the mountainside. Bishop Hardy ran to her and gathered her into his arms. “Mama,” Wasel whispered as she fell asleep.
The bishop carried Wasel back to the house as quickly as he could go. Mama took Wasel in her arms, and tears of joy flowed freely from her eyes. She offered a silent prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for bringing little Wasel home safely.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bishop Hardy fired the gun with joy. When Papa arrived, he hugged his wife and daughter, weeping with gratitude. Then everyone knelt in a circle, and Bishop Hardy thanked the Lord for protecting Wasel. He knew that he couldn’t have heard her soft cries on his own. But the Lord was watching over Wasel and had helped him to find her.

Another experience began 48 hours after my wife’s burial. At that time, I was rushed to the hospital in an acute medical crisis. I then spent the first four weeks of a six-week stay in and out of intensive care and in and out of consciousness.
Virtually all my experience in the hospital during that first period is lost to my memory. What is not lost is my memory of a journey outside the hospital, out to what seemed the edge of eternity. I cannot speak fully of that experience here, but I can say that part of what I received was an admonition to return to my ministry with more urgency, more consecration, more focus on the Savior, more faith in His word.
I couldn’t help but feel I was receiving my own personal version of a revelation given to the Twelve nearly 200 years ago:
“Thou shalt bear record of my name … [and] send forth my word unto the ends of the earth. …
“… Morning by morning; and day after day let thy warning voice go forth; and when the night cometh let not the inhabitants of the earth slumber, because of thy speech. …
“Arise[,] … take up your cross, [and] follow me.”
My beloved sisters and brothers, since that experience, I have tried to take up my cross more earnestly, with more resolve to find where I can raise an apostolic voice of both warmth and warning in the morning, during the day, and into the night.

I learned in school that some children have a disease called cancer and that the medicine they take can make them lose their hair. I was sad for them because not only are they sick, but other kids might make fun of them too. I found out that I could donate some of my own long hair to these children. My ballet school is very strict and wouldn’t let me dance in their recital with short hair. I worked hard all year so I could dance in the recital, but I didn’t care. I donated my hair because I knew Jesus would say that people are more important than anything else.

It is all too easy for leaders to assume that others have discretionary income similar to their own. May I illustrate what I am talking about by quoting portions of a letter from a concerned mother:
“In September, it was making and selling pizzas three nights a week and Saturday mornings to raise money for volleyball uniforms. There were class parties, New Beginnings, leadership workshops, and ward service projects.
“In October and November it was volleyball practice and games three nights a week, a ward dinner, a Halloween party, a stake mid-week fireside, and a barn dance.
“In January there have been basketball practices and games to start the sports program going again, a stake standards night, and a fund-raising project.
“In February, along with the basketball games, there have been roadshow rehearsals three days of the week, a skiing party, a snow party, a stake camp meeting, and a workshop to finish up the Sesquicentennial projects to take up at least twenty-two days of this month.
“I’m sure I need not go on and on with this word picture. But still there is more you should know about: Coming up is a ‘slave auction,’ a car wash, a doughnut sale, a singing telegram project, lawn raking every Saturday morning until summer to raise money for a super activity in Idaho. There’s an Aaronic Priesthood outing for both the boys and girls in May, two Scout overnights besides Beehive camp and Scout camp.”

Deacons Mason Krstic and Elliot Stobbs also needed support from their quorum adviser. Elliot recalls, “Our Young Men leaders would tell us how important it was to carry out our Duty to God, and at first I didn’t understand why. But by the end of the year I had had so many great experiences that I knew why they encouraged us to do this.”