Gospel Story Finder

Detective Donut and the Wild Goose Chase Professor Drake was missing. So was the valuable statue he had found. As Detective Donut works on the case, he keeps losing the socks sent to him by his mother for his birthday. The art is as hilarious as the story and lets you see who really solved the case.Bruce Whatley8–10 years

Troy Swartzle, a priest in the New Bern Ward, Kinston North Carolina Stake, was selected to attend Governor’s School of North Carolina. Troy was selected because of his outstanding abilities in instrumental music. He plays french horn.
Troy was one of two from his high school and five from the county school system selected to go to the school. During his stay, he met Church members from throughout the state and was able to invite some interested friends to accompany him to Church activities. He was also able to correct misconceptions about the Church during his philosophy class.

When I found out that our stake was going to produce a musical show I was filled with the desire to participate. I had been in many plays, but since becoming totally blind three years earlier, I had neglected my love of amateur acting. I was afraid that the directors would never use a blind actress, and I wondered if I would be able to handle the complex stage movements. But my desires overcame my fears, and I auditioned for a part in the show.
The audition went well, but even my very supportive husband warned me not to get too hopeful. To my surprise, I not only got the part I wanted, but one of the directors hadn’t even realized I was blind! Had I let my fears keep me from trying, I would have missed one of the most delightful experiences of my life.

On my mission, rejection and failure were as much a part of our everyday lives as eating and breathing. It was easy to expect rejection and anticipate that our investigators would lose interest in our message. But five weeks in one particular city taught me a valuable lesson. It was a city where no one had ever had much success. But someone forgot to tell my companion or me. We got along famously. We worked hard. And we had fun. We met lots of people interested in our message. We had a thriving investigator class each Sunday in this tiny branch. Miracles were happening in people’s lives. And we felt we were just scratching the surface of this golden city.

Why did we have so much success there? I believe the Lord blessed us with success because of our attitude. My companion and I loved working together. We were united. We worked hard. We honestly believed the city was a gold mine just waiting to yield up its treasures. Attitude has a lot to do with faith. Faith has everything to do with success. And faith is contagious.

Unfortunately, I was late in understanding this lesson. I failed to make the connection between the fruits of our labors and the way we labored. Consequently, I was not able to apply this principle as successfully in my next two assignments.

Green Bay, Wisconsin, is cold this time of year, but young women in the Green Bay Second Ward work hard to spread the warmth of the gospel. Using the theme of the Young Women Values, the girls designed a tree covered in angels made from paper bags in the Value colors. The tree was featured as part of a local YWCA event. The tree was a great missionary tool in getting out the message of what the Young Women program is all about.

My own testimony began as I studied and pondered the teachings found in the Book of Mormon. As I knelt down to ask God in humble prayer, the Holy Ghost testified to my soul that what I was reading was true. This early witness became the catalyst for my testimony of many other gospel truths, for, as President Monson taught: “When we know the Book of Mormon is true, then it follows that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet and that he saw God the Eternal Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. It also follows that the gospel was restored in these latter days through Joseph Smith—including the restoration of both the Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthoods.”15 Since that day, I have had many sacred experiences with the Holy Ghost that have reaffirmed to me that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world and that His restored gospel is true. With Alma, I can say with certainty that I know these things of myself.

There are some in the world who might say that such parental influence is repressive and robs the child of its freedom, but quite the opposite is true. A group of young girls was overheard talking about the parents of one of their friends. Showing maturity beyond her years, one of the girls said, “Her parents don’t love her; they let her do anything she wants.” The others agreed.

“The Joy Is in Becoming” in the June New Era really made an impression on me because I had been questioning some of the new styles. They seemed to look really good on my friends and on models, but something just wasn’t quite right. They looked cheap.
About a week ago I purchased a two-piece bathing suit. It was very pretty, but I didn’t feel comfortable in it. Well, I thought about it, prayed about it, and I knew finally that I was not to own it. I returned it. The article in the New Era helped me a lot; I was afraid to do what I knew was right, and it helped give me courage. From here on in I’m going to try to be a good example of high moral standards.
Debbie ThompsonTustin, California

An example of such service was the missionary experience of Juliusz and Dorothy Fussek, who were called to fill a mission in Poland. Brother Fussek was born in Poland. He spoke the language. He loved the people. Sister Fussek was born in England and knew little of Poland and nothing of its people. Trusting in the Lord, they embarked on their assignment. The work was lonely, their task immense. A mission had not at that time been established in Poland. The assignment given the Fusseks was to prepare the way so that a mission could be established.

Did Elder and Sister Fussek despair because of the enormity of their assignment? Not for a moment. They knew their calling was from God. They prayed for His divine help, and they devoted themselves wholeheartedly to their work.

In time Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles; Elder Hans B. Ringger, then of the Seventy; and I, accompanied by Elder Fussek, met with the religious affairs minister, Adam Wopatka, of the Polish government. We heard him say, “Your church is welcome here. You may build your buildings; you may send your missionaries. This man,” pointing to Juliusz Fussek, “has served your church well. You can be grateful for his example and his work.”

Like the Fusseks, let us do what we should do in the work of the Lord. Then we can, with Juliusz and Dorothy Fussek, echo the Psalm:

“My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.

“… He that keepeth thee will not slumber.

“Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 121:2–4).

Ten years earlier, I had been this sister’s visiting teacher. Back then, I was baking bread one day and felt that I should give a loaf to her. But when I drove to her house, I noticed an unfamiliar car in her driveway. I thought she must have company, and I didn’t want to intrude. So, I turned around and went home.
Half an hour later, the Relief Society president called to ask if I could go to this sister’s house and watch her children. She was in the hospital, and her mother had come to stay with the children but was eager to be with her daughter. I hurried over but felt ashamed that I had not followed the earlier prompting. Since that day, I had tried my best to follow promptings from the Spirit, but this experience still haunted me.
I am grateful I reconnected with this dear sister. That day, not only did Heavenly Father answer the prayers my family had offered to find a family to serve, but He also blessed me with an opportunity to forgive myself for a previous mistake. I had not expected this gift, but it’s one I’ll never forget.

After the war, Church groups were organized at two U.S. military bases—Clark Air Base and Subic Bay Naval Base—as Latter-day Saint service members looked forward to the establishment of a more formal Church presence in the Philippines. On August 21, 1955, President Joseph Fielding Smith (1876–1972) dedicated the Philippines for the preaching of the gospel. Legal restrictions, however, delayed the missionaries’ arrival until 1961.
In 1960, Elder Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), then an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, visited the Philippines for several days: “I expressed the view that missionary work will be … as fruitful as it has been in many other places in the world.”3 The following year, after much preparation and paperwork done by members such as Maxine Tate Grimm and President Robert S. Taylor of the Southern Far East Mission as well as friends outside the Church, Elder Hinckley returned to the islands to rededicate the Philippines for the commencement of missionary work.
On April 28, 1961, in the outskirts of Manila, Elder Hinckley met with a small group of service members, American residents, and one Filipino member—David Lagman—and offered a special prayer “that there shall be many thousands who shall receive this message and be blessed thereby.”4 Those words, uttered by a true servant of the Lord, soon became prophetic.
The first four missionaries—Raymond L. Goodson, Harry J. Murray, Kent C. Lowe, and Nester O. Ledesma—arrived in Manila several weeks later. “The Filipinos accepted the gospel very readily,” Elder Lowe noted. “When the head of the family decided to join the Church, in many, many cases the entire family would join the Church.”5

Soon Ray Beaty, 16, of Granby, was working side by side with Aurora youth he’d only met that morning. “We get lonely up here, and sometimes we think we’re all alone. But working together like this, I think we’ve formed some friendships that will last.

Illustration by Paul Mann
For a while I was a student assistant in the library at my high school. At a certain hour I would usually see the special education class come in. One of the girls in that class, Stephanie, often went to a certain area to read books. She seemed very sweet and friendly.
One day some other students were in the lounge area of the library, and Stephanie tried to talk to them. These students started making fun of her, calling her names and making rude comments to her face about her disability.
As I watched from the library desk, I thought, “Oh, dear. That’s just wrong.” Not seeing an adult around at the moment, I walked over to them and said, “Hey, cut it out.” Then they turned their ridicule to me, so I took Stephanie to the other side of the library, where we sat and talked together for a while.
After that, I didn’t have another chance to talk to Stephanie again. The end of the school year came, and life moved on.
A year later, the sister missionaries invited me to go with them to an appointment. When the day came, I went to the address at the scheduled time, but the sister missionaries weren’t there yet. I called them to make sure I was at the right place, and they told me they were running late from their last appointment but would be there in a few minutes, so I might as well just go to the house and introduce myself. I stepped up to the door and rang the doorbell. A woman answered. She was very nice and courteous.
Then I saw a young woman come around the corner. When she saw me, she ran up to me and hugged me. At first I thought, “She looks so familiar.” She asked, “How are you doing?!” As she went on saying kind and friendly things to me, I just looked at her, trying to figure out who she was. And then it clicked—she was the girl from a year ago in the library. It was Stephanie.
At that moment I thought, “What if I hadn’t helped her that day and then showed up here at her door to try to teach her the gospel? If I had looked on while they were making fun of her, if I hadn’t stepped in and been kind to her, why would she listen to me trying to teach her the gospel?”
Her sweet reaction meant a lot to me. I thanked Heavenly Father for giving me the strength to do the right thing.
When the sister missionaries came, the lesson went very well. We visited Stephanie twice a week after that. She loved learning about the gospel and was baptized within a short time. She really enjoys being active in the Church. I often pick her up to take her to church and to firesides or other activities. Though her mother isn’t interested in the Church, she’s very supportive of Stephanie’s activity.
Through this experience I realized that it’s so important to know that people are always watching. You never know when you’ll have a chance to make an impression on someone and plant a seed. It’s so important to stick up for what you know to be true at all times, even when it may not necessarily seem like the easiest thing to do.

There have been many others not so widely publicized—for example, the method of financing local Church operations. For many years members of the Church not only paid their tithing and fast offerings, but they also contributed generously to their respective ward budgets. They participated in the cost of real estate and building construction. Then came a very significant change. It was determined that all such costs would come from the tithing funds of the Church. This change represented a great act of faith based on revelation.

Today all such financing is provided through tithing. And the remarkable and wonderful thing is that the Church has never been in better financial condition than it is today. The Lord has kept His ancient promise as He has given modern revelation.

At age 22, Jill married Olga Kozáková. Like Jirí, Olga had been introduced to the Church as a teenager by school friends who had heard the missionaries preaching. “When I attended the lectures,” she says, “I felt very, very warm in my heart, and I said ‘I’m at home!’” She was baptized in Prague six months after Jirí was baptized in Plzen.

Jirí and Olga met later at an outing of young people from various branches. Groups of Saints went on outings every July 24th to Priests Hill near Karlstejn Castle to commemorate Elder John A. Widtsoe’s dedicatory prayer there on 24 July 1929. At times the youth had programs and competitions or studied scriptures together. Jirí and Olga were married 24 April 1954—Jirí’s 22nd birthday and the fifth anniversary of his baptism.

Soon thereafter, Jirí was drafted into mandatory military service. Regarded as an enemy of the state because of his religious affiliation, he spent his two-year stint in a military labor brigade rather than as a soldier. Turning to the Lord for strength, he endured, returning to civilian life “in good health and strengthened in the faith.”

Annie frowned, seeing what was on the table for supper. She stamped her foot and declared, “Again, Mama!”
“Yes, Annie. Mush again. Come now, sit down and be glad for it. Our stomach walls would touch were it not for the mush.”
Annie pinched her lips together and sat down next to her older sister, Marian.
After supper the mush felt like a cold stone in Annie’s stomach as they gathered around Pa. Annie usually loved Pa’s quiet, deep tones as he read from the Bible or the Book of Mormon. But tonight’s chosen scripture, the third chapter of Habakkuk, bothered her when Pa reached verses seventeen and eighteen:
“Although … the fields shall yield no meat [fruit]; …
“Yet I will rejoice …”
Annie just had to blurt out, “Pa, does that mean that we should be glad even if there’s nothing but mush to eat?”
“That’s right, Annie.” Pa smiled gently at her.
“Well, I like what David said better.” Annie found the place in the old family Bible and pointed.
“Let’s see, Psalm Eighty-One, verse ten.” A slow smile spread across Pa’s face as he read, “Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it.”
With a little laugh, Marian said, “He’s done that, hasn’t He—filled our mouths with mush!”
“David didn’t mean mush, Marian!” Annie objected. “I just know that he didn’t!”
Later, in bed, Annie couldn’t sleep. She turned onto her side, thinking about Heavenly Father and mush. Surely Heavenly Father loves us enough to give us more than just mush, doesn’t He? Pa had talked about a mysterious stock market crash. He had said that the crash and now the long drought were why there wasn’t enough food or jobs. But, Annie wondered, why did Heavenly Father let it be so?
Restless, she got up and looked out the window. Her tiny bedroom above the kitchen looked out on flat, dry eastern Oregon ranchlands that seemed to stretch forever. Above, the sky was alive with twinkles. Annie stared up at the silver-spangled blackness, mulling over what Mama repeated often these days:
“Trust grows in sunshine, but—what’s best—
It blooms in darkness when at rest.”
“OK, Heavenly Father,” Annie said resignedly as she knelt by her bed, “I’ll go along with Mama and Pa and Marian. Maybe You know something that I don’t, so I’ll try to trust You more. I’ll even try to like mush a little bit.” When Annie finished her prayer, she stretched out under the quilts and drifted into a deep sleep.
Scraaaape! Scraaaatch!
The strange scraping sound wakened Annie. Drowsily she heard the screen door slam and Pa’s voice, “Git, Bossie! Go along now.”
Wondering whom Pa was talking to, Annie jumped up and pushed aside the curtains. “A cow!” she cried.
Trotting away toward the road was a jersey cow. Larger than most jerseys, she was yellowish brown, and one side was splashed with a darker brown, as though someone had splattered her with paint.
Annie stretched, then pulled on her clothes. As she slipped on her dress, she again heard the strange scraping sound. Looking down, she saw the same cow scraping her horns against the back porch post. The screen door slammed as Pa came out again, this time briskly slapping his pants with his hand. With a startled swing of her head, the cow took off down the path. Annie rested her hands on the sill and leaned out, watching the cow trot off. Her udder was swollen with milk and swung back and forth as she trotted.
Minutes later, Annie joined Marian and her parents in the kitchen. “Where’d that cow come from, Pa?”
“I imagine she belongs to some rancher. Because of the drought, they’ve had to turn their stock loose to forage for themselves. Poor critters.” As he shook his head sympathetically, the familiar scraping sound came again.
They all went out onto the porch and stared at the big cow. She stared back dully. Then, lifting her head, she drew out a long, sad Moooo.
“Pa, she wants to be milked,” Marian said. “Look at her full udder.” She took a step toward the jersey, then stopped as the animal swung her head, brandishing sharp horns. A hoofed foot stamped in the dust, raising dust swirls in the already hot morning sun.
“I’ll milk her! Then we’ll have cream on our mush. Won’t that be good?” Annie’s voice was excited. She looked appealingly at Pa. “Can I, Pa? Please. She’s come here, asking.”
“Annie, part of her looks like she wants to be milked, all right. But her horns and that look in her eyes say, ‘No one better bother me.’”
“Let me try, Pa. Please. If she doesn’t want me to, she’ll just leave.”
“All right, Annie. Go ahead and try, but I don’t think she’ll even let you near her.”
Annie slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a large pot and a stool. Carrying them cautiously, she walked slowly toward the cow, who stood watching her. The cow’s front hoof pawed at the dusty ground, and her tail switched away a fly. Annie hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. The cow really didn’t look too friendly. Then she thought, Cream on ourmush! I’ll bet this cow is from Heavenly Father.
Annie took another slow step. “There now, little mama,” she crooned. “We’ll soon have you feeling better.” With slow, steady movements, Annie positioned the pot under the cow. Soon steady streams of rich, warm milk were filling it to the brim.
Just as Annie finished, the cow flung her head and took off, her sharp hoofs barely missing the pot of foaming milk.
“Wow!” Marian breathed. “Annie, you sure were brave. She really isn’t too tame.”
“Let’s go have our mush with cream, Marian!” Annie exulted.
After Pa said the blessing, Annie added her own silent thank-you to Heavenly Father.
Early the next morning, Annie was again awakened by the scraping sound.
Oh! You’ve sent her again, Heavenly Father! Annie thought as she drew in a quick breath. She flew down the stairs, snatched up the stool and pot, and raced outdoors.
“Oh, Bossie dear, I’m so glad that you came back. We loved the milk you gave us yesterday. Do you belong to Heavenly Father, Bossie?” Talking gently, Annie was soon filling the pot again with Bossie’s creamy milk.
Each morning, all through the hot, dry summer, the cow returned. And each morning Annie’s young, strong fingers milked her. Mama gave the cow some of their precious water to drink each morning as partial payment for her cream and milk.
The days grew shorter and cooler. One day a long downpour sank deeply into the thirsty ground. Soon Pa found work, and once again they were able to buy a variety of foods to eat.
One afternoon a rancher rode up to the door. “Good morning, Ma’am,” he said to Mama. “I’m rounding up the cattle that I had to turn loose a while back. I’m missing one—a big jersey with a splash of dark brown on one side. I wonder if you’ve seen her?”
“Oh my, yes!” Mama said. “Is she yours? We’ve wondered whom she belonged to. She’s been coming every morning for months. My Annie’s been milking her, and—”
“Nope, can’t be her, then, Ma’am,” he interrupted. “This cow will hardly let a husky man milk her, let alone a tad of a girl. She’s a mean critter.”
“Well, this cow’s skittish, all right. But she apparently lost her calf and was heavy with milk, so each morning Annie has been milking her. We don’t know who has been milking her at night.”
“Well, I just can’t imagine her being milked by a little girl. But maybe I’ll drop by and have a look, anyway.”
The next morning the rancher came as Annie was still milking the cow.
“Well, I’ll be switched!” he declared. “That jersey’s one and the same, as sure as can be.” He walked slowly around the cow as Annie finished milking her. “Yep, there’s my brand, all right. But say, little girl, you’ve been doing something few have ever done.” With that, he led the cow away down the road.
Annie watched the cow go and smiled at the thought of Heavenly Father’s goodness. Thanks, Heavenly Father, for filling our mouths with more than just mush.

Her dad is the bishop of the Arue Ward in the Pirae Tahiti Stake, is a sealer in the Papeete Tahiti Temple, and is a trusted employee of the Bank of Tahiti, so he is a very busy man. Yet he remembers 26 years ago, when he was a young father and the sister missionaries came to teach him the gospel. He refused to take the missionary discussions but agreed to let the sisters come and hold family home evenings. They came, and along with the prayers, the songs, the fun, and the refreshments, they taught him the gospel. Family home evening has held a special place in his heart ever since. From the time he was baptized in 1968, he has not let a single week pass without holding a family home evening.

He is also a caring brother. On the day the Friend magazine interviewed Nolan, he and his brothers were enjoying lunch from a local fast-food restaurant. The younger boys all received toys with their meals except for Austin, Nolan’s three-year-old brother. When Austin told his mother that he wanted a toy, too, Nolan immediately tossed his toy over to his brother, saying, “Here, you can have mine.”

In 1885, two missionaries went to Budapest, Hungary, but after a month with little success they left the country. Two years later, Hungarian Mischa Markow was converted near Constantinople (Istanbul) and returned to preach in his native land the following year, but he was banished from Hungary after being imprisoned. In 1900, Elder Markow and his companion preached in Temesvar, Hungary, until the government forced them to leave. The day before they left, they baptized 12 people and appointed leaders for a congregation of 31 members. Prior to World War I, a total of 106 people were baptized.

My patriarchal blessing tells me that I will find enjoyment in completing family history work. As a 16-year-old receiving this blessing, I didn’t think too much of this. I knew that my mum and grandmother had done a lot of work and much of my family tree had already been completed. They also attended the temple often to process their findings, so it was not something I thought I needed to think about.
It wasn’t until I went to university that I set myself up properly with an account on FamilySearch, and even then, it was a couple of years later and after getting married that I realised I could link my account to the work my family had already done, so that I wouldn’t have to manually type my family tree.
In recent years I’ve been trying to do as much as I can to get to grips with FamilySearch and understand its crucial role in doing work for others in the temple. As names have become unreserved, I’ve been trying to save them for my family so when we can go back to the temple, we can continue to do the work.