Gospel Story Finder

In the story of Alice in Wonderland, Alice does not know which way to go, so she asks the Cheshire Cat, “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”
The cat replies, “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.”
Alice says, “I don’t much care where.”
“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” says the cat.6

After working on their disabilities merit badge and deciding to involve Jeffery more in their activities, they met with Jeffery’s parents to find out what he was capable of doing. The boys in the quorum decided to invite him to participate in their basketball game. Since Jeffery couldn’t participate in the actual game the boys were playing, they took turns removing themselves from the game in order to step to the sidelines to toss the ball to him. Brother Bellon notes, “Having Jeffery become a more active part of the quorum helps us realize that he is really no different than any one of us. Building a relationship with him has allowed all of us to be more compassionate toward him and toward each other.”

The Philippines Missionary Training Center, which Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles dedicated on May 20, 2012, can house up to 144 missionaries from the Philippines, Cambodia, Hong Kong, India, Indonesia, Mongolia, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Taiwan, and Thailand. These missionaries are trained in the languages of their home countries.
The new center’s two buildings contain an auditorium, translation booths, a computer lab, a laundry area, teaching rooms with built-in audiovisual equipment, sleeping quarters for the missionaries, classrooms, and offices.
In offering the prayer to dedicate the new facility, Elder Nelson expressed gratitude for the Atonement of Jesus Christ and for faithful missionaries and Church members worldwide who love and serve the Lord. He asked for a blessing upon the Republic of the Philippines to “maintain open doors of welcome” to all the Lord’s servants and prayed that the nation’s people will be blessed with “freedom and accountability to grow in righteousness, both temporally and spiritually.”

The sun was setting quickly as we trudged down our last street of tracting for the day. My companion and I, both students at the University of Washington, were new stake missionaries. We had spent many hours that day doing what we were told had a 2000:1 chance of success—tracting. And we were doing our part to add to the bleakness of that statistic. Not one pamphlet about the coming general conference had been accepted.
Consoling ourselves with thoughts of a good dinner, we were almost home when we passed what looked like a lumberjack sitting on his front porch whittling a stick into a reed instrument. The Spirit whispered to me that we should stop and ask him the golden questions. I whispered back that we didn’t know him, his house obviously contained many boisterous college boys, and my stomach had plans of its own. We kept walking.
By the time we reached the corner I had a definite feeling of impending doom if I did not turn around and heed the prompting. Somewhat embarrassed, I explained the situation to my companion. She agreed to return to the whistler.
As we approached him, he lifted a face to us that could be described as cherubic. And he was all too willing to talk to two college girls about a gospel message. We soon discovered the lumberjack was a physics student in Seattle for six weeks of special courses. He invited us back the next day to teach him the first discussion.
I know we ate dinner that night, but I don’t think we tasted a bite we were so excited. The next day we were back on his doorstep teaching him life’s great plan amid the frequent exuberant interruptions of his many housemates. He devoured the information as rapidly as we could present it. Our new friend was baptized very soon thereafter. I was a recent convert myself, and my testimony was strengthened by watching this brilliant young man find everything we had to tell him immensely satisfying.
When his six weeks of classes were up, he played us a haunting tune on his now finished instrument and moved back to his home in Walla Walla, Washington. I thought that was the end of the story.
Four years later, I had finished my nursing degree and had begun to practice in Salt Lake City. While working, I met the night shift nurse, an energetic girl named Cathy. I was pleased to find that she was LDS and from Walla Walla. When I asked if she had ever known a young lumberjack-type named Dan, she smiled very broadly and said that she indeed did know him. Cathy said Dan was very active in the Church, and had been the young adult group leader at their institute of religion. And, she added, Dan had gone on a mission to England and had married her in the temple.
I thought back on that afternoon of tracting in Seattle, and I thanked Heavenly Father for the prompting he gave—to share just one little pamphlet before dinner.

Thomas S. Monson
(85) Thomas S. Monson gives a priesthood blessing to an elderly brother who can no longer see or hear.

Second, pay your tithing to rightfully claim the blessings promised those who do so. “Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” After she lost her husband in the martyrdom at Nauvoo and made her way west with five fatherless children, Mary Fielding Smith continued in her poverty to pay tithing. When someone at the tithing office inappropriately suggested one day that she should not contribute a tenth of the only potatoes she had been able to raise that year, she cried out to the man, “William, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Would you deny me a blessing? If I did not pay my tithing, I should expect the Lord to withhold His blessings from me. I pay my tithing, not only because it is a law of God, but because I expect a blessing by doing it. [I need a blessing.] By keeping this and other laws, I expect … to be able to provide for my family.”

As the Lord began restoring His Church through the Prophet Joseph Smith, He again included women in a pattern of discipleship. A few months after the Church was formally organized, the Lord revealed that Emma Smith was to be set apart as a leader and teacher in the Church and as an official helper to her husband, the Prophet. In her calling to help the Lord build His kingdom, she was given instructions about how to increase her faith and personal righteousness, how to strengthen her family and her home, and how to serve others.

At about the same time—by chance, or so I thought—my younger daughter convinced me to allow some scientists from Logan, Utah, to stay with us. They were in Russia to install equipment on the space station Mir. We became good friends, and every time they came to Moscow, they stayed with us.

They distracted me from my grief, but they were aware of my sorrow. Seeing my tears, Gail Bingham, one of the scientists, tried to comfort me: “Why are you crying?” he asked. “What can you do now? Don’t you know that God has taken your husband to be with him? Your husband was such an intelligent, good person—you will certainly see him again.”

Although I do not speak English very well, when he spoke about God, I understood everything he said.

Last February my cousin, who was a very bright, intelligent, and fun high school junior, committed suicide. I was so terrified, confused, upset, and sorrowful that for weeks I walked around idly not knowing what to do with myself.
My cousin dwelt on her problems and didn’t communicate to anyone what was really disturbing her. As a result, those terrible thoughts and emotions could not be cleansed from her system. She didn’t give anyone the chance to hear, care, or help. I miss her now, and what hurts the most is that I couldn’t do anything to help her or save her.
If my cousin had taken her confusion and pain to someone that loved, understood, and cared about her, maybe she would be here today.
Do anything and everything you can to feel the Lord’s presence and love. I’m sure that when you feel that presence, you will be determined to fulfill your mission here on earth rather than end your potential quest which God has planned for you.
Nigelle Halloway, 16Vienna, Virginia

The peace she feels from her mother’s prayer gives Bonnie H. Cordon courage to trust in the Lord.

When I was visiting Hiroshima, Japan, I met an eleven-year-old boy, soon to be a deacon. He was asked to speak at a stake conference. Though very frightened, he quoted scriptures with ease and preached a powerful sermon. There was no question about which shining, smiling face in the congregation belonged to his mother.

When we arrived at the Fort Hall Road, [Idaho], James Spicer, the man I was traveling with to California, was informed that several wagon trains had been attacked by Indians. He decided to change his plans and go through Utah.

“I’ll die brave,” I told him, naturally supposing the Mormons would kill me or worse.

Up to this time the members of our company were ignorant of my parentage. I decided I’d better tell Spicer.

“I have a father in Utah.”

“Who is it?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered. It was the truth. I didn’t know, but I knew there would be trouble.

“They’ll probably try to take me prisoner,” I said.

“We can’t take the Fort Hall Road,” he answered. “Too dangerous. We have to go through Utah.”

Spicer smiled. “You’ll be all right.” He climbed back into his wagon and started his team, turning them north toward the Utah trail.

It was a nightmare. We were too far out for me to turn back alone. The thing I had feared the most all of my life was coming true. I had grown up with a bitter prejudice and intense hatred toward the Mormons. The name was synonymous for me with that of an ugly and dangerous monster. Often in my dreams I had imagined I was captured by them, and in my waking moments I pictured to myself a life of captivity among them—caged like a wild beast.

I’d never seen a Mormon, and I couldn’t remember my father. What I knew about them I’d learned from my grandfather and his family. My father had left for Utah when I was only about 12 months old, leaving two wives (my mother, Clarissa, and her sister, Emily) and my brother Isaac and me with my grandfather, Alpheus Cutler. Only three women accompanied that first group. Most wives were left behind in the care of a trusted relative or friend and came to Utah during the next few years.

About two years later my mother died, and a few months afterward my Aunt Emily also died. My grandfather moved to Manti, Iowa, and established his own church there. He put himself in as its leader and called it “The True Church of Latter-day Saints.”

He denounced polygamy and the law of tithing. He taught his followers that Joseph Smith was a true prophet of God, but that Brigham Young was not his successor. He declared himself to be the true leader, holding the authority to carry on the latter-day work.

My brother Isaac and I were ill-treated by my grandfather’s family. We were persecuted and called names for being from a polygamist family. On even the slightest provocation they would threaten to send us to Utah, telling us the Mormons would soon settle [dispose of] us.

We were taught that if we stayed in the woods too long the Mormons would catch us and carry us off. More than once when gathering berries we were alarmed by some rustling noise in the underbrush. We would drop our baskets and run like frightened antelopes, never looking back until we were home.

In the spring of 1862 I was sent to Hamburg, Iowa, and stayed with my uncle Edwin Cutler for a week. While I was there he asked me if I would be interested in going to California with him. I told him I would be glad to go.

The trip went well until we passed the town of Julesburg, [Colorado] on the Platte River. I had slept a little longer than usual one morning and failed to get up before sunrise. My uncle shook me awake and told me he had not brought me along for him to wait on me, but for me to wait on him. He said he was glad to have me along as a servant.

A few days later my aunt asked me if I knew where my uncle was taking me.

“California,” I answered. “Where else?”

“He’s taking you to your father in Utah,” she said.

I decided to leave my uncle as soon as possible. When we reached Laramie, Wyoming, James Spicer, who had been traveling with our company for a short time, motioned me over to his wagon.

“I understand you don’t want to go to Utah,” he said.

I told him he was right. He said he was taking the Fort Hall Road that went around Utah and that he’d noticed my uncle had misused me on the trip. He told me I could travel with him if I wanted to.

Two days later my uncle came to me and said, “Abe, [Abraham] get the cattle together. There’s a company leaving this afternoon, and we can travel with them.” I told him I wasn’t going with him any farther, that I was going to California with Spicer.

After my uncle realized there was nothing he could do to keep me from going with Spicer, he told me he planned on telling every Mormon he saw that one of Heber C. Kimball’s lost boys was on the road behind him. I’d heard Heber C. Kimball was a Mormon leader, and this made me even more afraid to go to Utah.

Now I was traveling toward Utah. There was no turning back. I would meet my doom.

At the Green River Ferry, [Wyoming], there was more trouble. We met a Mormon, Lewis Robinson, and when he heard my story he asked me if I planned on seeing my father when I reached Salt Lake City.

“Not if I can help it,” I told him.

“Your father’s a good man,” he said. “He will be very pleased to see you. I’m leaving for Salt Lake City in the morning on horseback, and when I get there I’ll tell your father you’re coming.”

We didn’t encounter any more Mormons until we reached Silver Creek, near Parley’s Park, Utah. When we arrived there I learned that William H. Kimball lived at Parley’s Park. I was told that he was my half brother.

I was approaching a desperate situation. I decided to put on a bold front and to prepare for the worst. Feeling I might as well meet trouble head-on, I decided to pay my half brother a visit. I armed myself with a revolver and quid [a chewable sized piece] of tobacco and said my good-byes, believing it would be the last anyone would ever hear of me.

William recognized me from the description my uncle had given him.

“Hello Abe [Abraham],” he said. “Where did you come from?”

He seemed very glad to see me and asked me to come up to his house with him. I suspected this would be a trap. Keeping my hand close to my revolver at all times I was ready for action. In that house William introduced me to his family and to two more of my brothers, Charles and Solomon. I was invited to dinner. It was the first civilized meal I’d had in months. My relatives in Parley’s Park left a favorable impression on me. The only thing even close to torture they came up with was an attempt at questioning me to death.

It took us two more days to reach Salt Lake City. We camped at Emigration Square that night, and in spite of the good impression my relatives had made, I was still terrified of the Mormons. I expected to fall into their hands in the morning. All of my old fears of captivity and torture came back to me. It was a long night.

At noon Spicer asked me what I was going to do. “I don’t think things with your father will be anything like you’ve been told they will be,” he said. “It’s important to have a family.” Spicer hesitated. We had become good friends. “I’ll be at Fort Floyd for the winter, and if you come there or if you find me in California you’ll always have a home.”

We said good-bye to each other, both of us shedding tears. I stayed at the square as long as I dared, alone, watching Spicer’s outfit move down the road.

If I’d been called to mount the gallows I would have done it with less reluctance than when I went to meet my father. I didn’t dare talk to anyone, so instead of going down the sidewalk I walked up the middle of the road. I still believed it was a trap, that the Mormons wanted to catch me.

I crossed City Creek and stopped at a house to ask directions. I had decided my father must live in the area, so I asked for my half brother, Charles Kimball, instead. The woman who answered the door was Charles’s wife. She told me her husband was at his father’s barn, not far from there.

As I crossed the yard people were staring at me from windows and doorways. I must have looked a little odd. The clothes I was wearing, though they were my best, were old and worn: a hickory-colored shirt, white ducking pants eight inches too short, a pair of shoes and no stockings, and an old rimmed hat.

My brother was hitching horses to a wagon. He was surprised to see me.

“Abe, [Abraham] I was just going to look for you. I’ll unhitch and take you to father.”

I wished then the earth would open and swallow me up. When we got close to the house I saw a man I supposed was my father. I was very much afraid of him.

“Here’s your boy,” Charles said.

My father stood six foot one, and he had keen, piercing eyes, eyes that seemed to penetrate my thoughts. He spoke to me in a kind, fatherly voice. He tried to embrace me, but I wouldn’t have any of that. He told me he was glad to see me and asked me if I knew he was my father.

I told him I didn’t know and didn’t care, and I hoped he would let me go as soon as possible. He said I was free to go if I wanted to and then invited me into his house. He looked at me for quite a while without saying anything.

“Do you have any good clothes?” he asked, breaking the silence.

The Ralphs’ missionary work also extends to family history. When they traced their family lines, they discovered they were descendants of King Alfred the Great. It also happens that the standing stones mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, King Alfred’s meeting place with his troops in 878 A.D. where he made plans to battle the Danes, are on the Ralphs’ land. These two five-foot stones form part of their family shield. The wooden coat of arms also displays the motto “Honor, Truth, and Excellence.” These qualities reflect in their lives as a family as they serve those in need.

After hearing President Hinckley’s talk, 18-year-old Heather Hancock realized that obeying the Lord’s commandment to gain an education requires planning and sacrifice.
“I am a senior in high school faced with the decisions that go along with college. Where to go. How to pay for it. What to study. President Hinckley’s talk on being smart has helped me a great deal. There have been many times where I have thought about buying a new car or clothes, but the words from President Hinckley’s talk, ‘Sacrifice anything that is needed,’ come to mind. They have helped me to stay focused in school and save money for college. I know how important education is, and I am willing to sacrifice other material things to obtain it.”

That kind of confidence comes naturally. Even before she was born, her mother, Toni, decided all her children would learn to play piano. Sheena began lessons at age five.
“She was determined to play the piano,” recalls her teacher, Tammy Drake. “Her hand was never an obstacle. She would compensate with her right hand to achieve a full sound. Then one day, she began playing with her left hand, using her thumb and pinky stub. Sheena has shown all of us a new kind of courage and determination. Some listeners never even know about her hand. She plays beautifully.”

He did enjoy cookies! The last time he stayed in the hospital, a nurse had asked, “What would you like?” Ryan didn’t know that she was offering him a drink, and when he’d answered, “I like cookies,” she smiled. “We’ll see what we can do about that.” She came back with two cookies in a plastic bag. Ryan had been too ill to eat them, but he’d held onto them until his stomach felt better.

My grandmother left Lithuania after the First World War. Her husband had died fighting in the First World War. So, alone, she gathered her resources and travelled with her four children to Brazil to start a new life. It must have seemed to her that she was leaving her heritage behind, along with family, friends, and culture. She was traveling alone across the world to a country that did not speak her language. She knew she would never see her homeland again, but she couldn’t have imagined the importance that place would have for her grandchildren.

Locker Room Prayers—I asked Coach Landrum tonight if we could have prayer before our football games. We all just repeated the Lord’s Prayer, but we are united as a team. We don’t pray to win but to have the strength to be men on the field—using good sportsmanship, wishing no physical injury to either team, winning in the column of character and determination.
A Later Note: I played on many winning teams in elementary and high school. Never did I play on a team as united, as spirited, as our football team this year. It may be secondary that this was the first unbeaten, untied football season in our school’s history.

Be willing to accept ideas from the youth as you go along. When the Polynesian natives in a jungle show advanced menacingly toward the cowardly professor, he leaped into the arms of the guide. It looked so funny we wrote it into the show.

During the 1600s, Cardinal Richelieu used a coding device with punched holes, called a grille. It was placed over a sheet of paper, and the secret message was written through the holes. When the grille was removed, additional letters were inserted in the spaces between the coded words to hide the message. To anyone reading the entire letter, the coded message combined with the added letters appeared to be an ordinary communication between two people. But when the receiver of the message placed an identical grille over the letter, only the secret message would be seen through the holes.