Gospel Story Finder

The youth of the Bountiful Utah Central Stake were planning a youth conference for the first week in June. They were planning some exciting events right in their own area. They planned a day at a water slide, an evening barbecue, a day of workshops, a dance, and more. It was going to be great fun. But the week before their youth conference, mud slides and floodwaters had inundated dozens of homes in Bountiful. It didn’t seem quite right to be planning an activity when so many people needed help. The youth decided to cancel their youth conference and offer their time and strength in helping their neighbors.
Julie Merrill, Lisa and Lori Dearden, Michelle Reading, Jim Summers, Bob Foster, Betsy Ann Wiscombe, and Adam Birmingham and nearly 100 percent of the youth in their wards turned out dressed in old clothes and with shovels over their shoulders to be assigned a home to help clean. This group was shown to a home where mud had filled the bottom level.
At first the group gingerly waded into the mud careful not to get too much on their clothes, but as bucket after bucket was filled and lifted in a bucket brigade out of the house, they didn’t hesitate to get dirty. As the group was working, one boy called out, “I know a song we should sing. We should sing, ‘Give Said the Little Stream.’” His suggestion was met with groans. The heavy mud started to take its toll on young muscles, but their good spirits won out. Someone missed the bucket with a shovelful of mud. Another retaliated, and soon everyone was yelling to stop the mud fight, but since everyone was already covered, it did little damage.
The youth went back the next day and the next until the home they were working on was as clean as they could get it and ready for reconstruction work.
How did they feel about shoveling mud instead of having fun at their youth conference? Julie Merrill said, “It was nice to help other people. I was worn out, but I felt like I was helping. I didn’t really mind the change of plans.” Lori Dearden actually preferred the change of plans. “I’m still a Beehive so I couldn’t go to some of the joint activities at the youth conference, so I didn’t mind the change of plans. It was hard work, but we were really excited to finally see the floor. We left it really clean with all the walls washed down. It felt good to help.”

During the week, Alba Fonseca lives a busy life as a high school student. Besides school and seminary, she manages to squeeze in time for violin, piano, soccer, and dance.
But on Sundays, Alba takes on a role unlike most other 14-year-olds. Stop by her Spanish-speaking branch in Ogden, Utah, and you may find her sitting in a side pew, whispering English words into a tiny microphone attached to headphones atop her head.
Even at 14 Alba isn’t a newcomer to the world of interpreting. In fact, Alba has been interpreting for everything from sacrament meeting to stake conference since she was just 11 years old. And long before that, Alba was interpreting for parents, teachers, and students at her elementary school.
Talking with Alba, you probably wouldn’t even consider that English is her second language. Even though she has always lived in the United States, Alba’s parents are from Colombia, and Spanish was the first language Alba learned as a child.
It wasn’t until she attended preschool that Alba first started learning English. Even though she was very young, she remembers how frustrating it was at times. But she picked up the language quickly.
When kindergarten started, Alba’s teacher knew she was bilingual, so she assigned her a seat next to a boy who couldn’t speak any English. She asked Alba to translate basic phrases for him such as “write your name here.”
One day, a mother who couldn’t speak any English stopped by the office. The staff could not find anyone in the whole school to interpret for her. When Alba’s teacher learned of the dilemma, she immediately recommended her five-year-old interpreter. From then on—from parent-teacher conferences to phone calls—the school asked young Alba for help whenever they needed an interpreter.
“At least three times a week they would call me out of class,” she says. “It was exciting for me. I felt special,” she said with a laugh, “and I could get out of class.”
Eventually Alba started translating for her Spanish branch. In the beginning, she would sit behind English-speaking visitors (such as the stake Young Women presidency), and whisper the translation to them. It wasn’t until a few years later that the branch started using headphones with microphones.
Learning Church words in English was like learning a whole new language for Alba. “It was totally new for me because as a child I had never read the scriptures in English. I had never done anything that had to do with the Church in English—only in Spanish,” she says. “So it was really weird for me to learn all these English words—like the different levels of the priesthood—all these words I had never heard before.”
For the first few years, Alba really struggled with some of the English terms. But now she is in an English seminary class and has read the Book of Mormon in English. She says this has really helped.
Even though she still makes mistakes once in a while, Alba has overcome a lot of the self-consciousness she used to feel. She says she still gets nervous for the big events, but mostly she thinks it’s fun and exciting that she can help out.
Now Alba is helping out wherever and whenever she can. Sometimes it’s as simple as helping someone at the store, or sometimes it’s for big events, such as the missionary conference she helped out with last year.
“I had to translate for all these people! So I prayed, and Heavenly Father helped me through it,” she says. “Words I had never heard before, I just said them. It was really awesome, and I could feel the Spirit.”
Even though it has often been challenging, Alba is grateful for the opportunities she’s had to use her language skills to serve. “It helps me to see that I can help other people,” she says. “It has really strengthened my testimony of service.”
Alba loves helping other people feel the Spirit and better understand the messages in sacrament meeting. She also thinks that interpreting for her Spanish branch has helped her stay in tune with the Spirit.
“It has really helped me a lot, because in sacrament meeting, sometimes it’s easy for my thoughts to wander,” she says. “But now I pay attention more, I am more focused, and I understand what the speaker is trying to say.”

My mother and my friend’s mother take turns driving us to school. One morning, my friend’s mother began asking questions about my religion and about our beliefs about the afterlife. I was surprised that she asked me, and I was a little scared because I hadn’t learned a lot about it.
As I began to talk, I remembered a seminary poster that was on the wall in my Primary room at church. It was about the veil between premortal life, mortality, and the spirit world. I told everything I could remember about the plan of salvation. My friend’s mother was impressed at the things I knew about my religion. I am grateful that the Lord gives me missionary moments.

Two years after his baptism, Gerard accepted a civil engineering position in Paris. Two months later, he was called to be the president of the Versailles Branch. While living in Paris, he became critically ill with meningitis, and his doctor explained to him the necessary plans to remove fluid from his spine. Gerard called on his home teachers for a priesthood blessing and was healed. The feared medical procedure became unnecessary.

After retiring, Brother and Sister Patterson went back to school to learn new skills: gunsmithing and woodworking.
Photograph courtesy of the Pattersons
After 40 years as a medical doctor and military officer, Kerry Patterson was injured while on a routine mission in Afghanistan. Forced to take a military disability retirement, he searched for things to do. Not content simply to spend his days fishing, he and his wife, Linda, went back to school at a local community college.
“I took a shop class in high school but had no other vocational training since then,” he explains. “Nonetheless, I decided to learn gunsmithing. I liked fixing people as a doctor and thought that learning how to fix things that required precision machining would keep me mentally active. It was a lot harder than I thought to go into something so new and different.” But now at age 71, after completing all required courses and getting necessary licenses, he has more business than he can handle. He has even hired an apprentice to share the workload and learn the trade.

In the early days of the Church, other disciples in addition to Joseph Smith and Hyrum Smith also laid down their lives for the gospel of Jesus Christ. The faithfulness of Edward Partridge, the first bishop of the Church, is noted in the Doctrine and Covenants. On July 20, 1833, Edward was sitting at home with his frail wife, who had just given birth. Three mobsters burst in and dragged him into the bedlam of the street and then into the square, where they had already taken Charles Allen. A mob of about 300 demanded through their spokesman that Edward and Charles either renounce their faith in the Book of Mormon or leave the county. Edward Partridge responded: “If I must suffer for my religion, it is no more than others have done before me. I am not conscious of having injured anyone in the county and therefore will not consent to leave. I have done nothing to offend anyone. If you abuse me, you are injuring an innocent man.” The mob then daubed Edward and Charles from head to foot with hot tar containing pearl ash, a flesh-eating acid, and then they threw feathers that stuck to the burning tar.

The Prophet Joseph Smith characterized Edward’s death a few years later at age 46 in these words: “He lost his life in consequence of the Missouri persecutions, and he is one of that number whose blood will be required at their hands.” Edward Partridge left a legacy that lives on in a large and righteous posterity.

I know that the gospel is real and that prayers are answered. I graduated from high school and enlisted in the navy in the middle of World War II. I was on board a ship that was part of a large group of ships. Kamikaze pilots were trying to destroy my ship and others by crashing their airplanes into the ships. My grandson Adam once asked me what I did at such times of extreme danger. There was no place to run or hide. “All I could do was pray,” I told him. “That was a good thing to do,” he answered.

I’ve always found it difficult to adjust to new situations. That’s why I was nervous to leave Primary and start Young Women. At first the schedule was strange to me. Young Women was a totally different environment—no singing time, no sharing time. We also had Mutual during the week.
I just wanted to fit in and feel comfortable, so I gave my new schedule a chance. I prayed a lot, and I began to adjust to the new routine and bond with the other young women.
As the weeks went by, I started to realize why I was in the Young Women program. I was learning more about the gospel, I was getting more opportunities to have a little goodness each week, and I was able to go to the temple and feel the Lord’s Spirit in His house.
Now I am very thankful for Young Women. I’m happy I gave this change a chance and that my Heavenly Father helped me do so.
Bethany W., Florida, USA

Perhaps the hardest lesson I have had to learn is trusting Heavenly Father’s timing more than mine.
One day as I was reading the blessings He promised to me in my patriarchal blessing, I was overwhelmed with the idea that because of my OCD, the blessings described would be impossible for me. I was promised that I would feel peace, but how could I with so much anxiety?
How would I ever learn to love the temple when I always felt unworthy to attend?
I pled for God to remove my OCD from me. But as I did, a single thought came to my mind: “Would I continue to follow the Savior if He didn’t take my OCD away?”
The thought that Heavenly Father wouldn’t take my mental disorder away was devastating. In the days since, I’ve pondered that question a lot: “Will you follow me if not?”
I’ve learned that although OCD might always be present in my life, God will help me to handle its symptoms and continue to grow. My healing still includes crying, bouts of guilt and anxiety, therapy, and pleading on my knees.
But more and more, my healing involves reclaiming joy in my life, offering myself love and grace, and connecting with the Savior. As I turn to Him, He helps me have the strength to carry on. He is by my side as I weep. I have felt His presence more than ever as I plead for His help in dealing with OCD. I now understand how “he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people” (Alma 7:11). I am learning that He truly does know how I feel and will provide me with what I need as I keep moving forward.

A few weeks ago, I was heavily swamped with several personal activities happening in my life. A prior commitment to help a sister with a need she had was approaching in the middle of all I had to do already. I found myself thinking almost despairingly, “How can I find joy in this service?” Immediately another thought occurred which caused me to reframe my perspective, “how can I find joy in His service?”
As I reframed my perspective, I was reminded that despite my less-than-ideal circumstances, my willingness to serve others and focus on Jesus Christ would bring me joy.

Working with horses also taught me to be patient and never to give up. Progress comes a little at a time. Once I had a colt named Planchet. Someone said, “That horse is weak. He will never be worth anything.” But someone else told me if I would be patient and exercise my colt’s muscles, he would someday be a good horse. I fed Planchet and took care of him and loved him. For one whole year, I walked him to strengthen his muscles. I worked and worked with him. And, sure enough, this weak colt won the Brazilian championship in a three-day competition.

President Thomas S. Monson tells of a Robert Blatchford who, 100 years ago “in his book God and My Neighbor, attacked with vigor accepted Christian beliefs, such as God, Christ, prayer, and immortality. He boldly asserted, ‘I claim to have proved everything I set out to prove so fully and decisively that no Christian, however great or able he may be, can answer my arguments or shake my case.’ He surrounded himself with a wall of skepticism. Then a surprising thing happened. His wall suddenly crumbled to dust. … Slowly he began to feel his way back to the faith he had scorned and ridiculed. What had caused this profound change in his outlook? His wife [had] died. With a broken heart, he went into the room where lay all that was mortal of her. He looked again at the face he loved so well. Coming out, he said to a friend: ‘It is she, and yet it is not she. Everything is changed. Something that was there before is taken away. She is not the same. What can be gone if it be not the soul?’”

Photograph courtesy of the author
I often saw the same face staring from an apartment window. I thought to myself, “Isn’t it sad that someone would constantly look out their window, judging their neighbors’ activities?”
Then one day I thought perhaps I should go ask to see if I could be of some help. I decided to take some fresh-baked bread with me.
The warm bread melted the ice in my elderly neighbor’s heart. Tearfully she told me how lonely she felt. No one visited her and no one called her, not even her own children. With a trembling hand, she wiped tears from her cheeks.
She sighed and then said, “How nice it would be to just leave this world. I don’t judge anyone as I look out my window. I just watch the children playing and other things going on in the yard.”
Illustration by Alex Nabaum
Over time, we talked about the gospel. At first she was reticent because her husband served as an official in another church. But the more we talked, the more impressed she became with the truths I shared about Jesus Christ and His restored gospel.
“It’s wonderful that we have the same Jesus!” she said. “Will we see each other in heaven?”
“Yes,” I responded, “we will be there together—hand in hand.”
From then on, we were good friends for many years, until she finally passed from this world.
Now I like to think that my former neighbor looks from the window of her heavenly home, following our activities and hoping we have sufficient harmony and love toward one another.

I know from experience the troubled mind of such a young person. When I was preparing to go on my mission, some surprising forces tried to discourage me. One was my dentist. When he realized my appointment was so I could be a missionary, he tried to dissuade me from serving. I had not had the least notion that my dentist was against the Church.

The interruption of my education was also complicated. When I asked for a two-year leave of absence from my university program, I was informed that it was not possible. I would lose my place at the university if I did not return after one year. In Brazil, this was serious since the only criterion for admittance in a university program was a very difficult and competitive examination.

After repeatedly insisting, I was reluctantly informed that after being absent for one year, I could apply for an exception on extraordinary grounds. It might be approved or not. I was terrified at the idea of retaking that difficult admissions test after two years away from my studies.

I also was especially interested in a young woman. Several of my friends shared that same interest. I thought to myself, “If I go on a mission, I’m running a risk.”

But the Lord Jesus Christ was my great inspiration not to be afraid of the future as I strove to serve Him with all my heart.

Remember the challenges that I thought I faced prior to my mission? My dentist? I found another. My university? They made an exception for me. Remember that young woman? She married one of my good friends.

But God truly blessed me richly. And I learned that the blessings of the Lord can come in ways different from how we expect. After all, His thoughts are not our thoughts (see Isaiah 55:8–9).

“Ro-sie!” called Mama. “It is time for you and Heman to take Papa his dinner.”
We needed no second call, for this was one errand we delighted in doing. Mama filled a plate with hot food, covered it with a soup dish to keep in the warmth, wrapped it carefully in a large napkin, and placed it in a basket. Then she handed the basket to us with final instructions: “Carry it carefully, don’t play on the way, and hurry home after Papa has eaten.”
It was ten blocks from our home on East Third South to Salt Lake Temple Block where Papa worked as a stonecutter. But it didn’t seem that long to us as we talked of the fun we’d have while Papa ate his dinner. It was interesting to watch the huge granite blocks being brought in from the canyon quarry by ox-drawn wagons. While the wagons were unloaded, the oxen stood patiently switching at flies with their tails. After the rough blocks were cut and smoothed to the required shape and size, they were tilted and placed in rows like dominoes, leaving the sharp edges protruding like saw teeth. We enjoyed running back and forth on top of these stone dominoes in our bare feet. Shoes were saved for Sunday and for school.
Sometimes we would watch as skilled workmen cut sun, moon, and star designs into certain stones. Each held a small iron chisel in his left hand and a hard wooden mallet in his right, tapping gently so as not to chip out too much rock and spoil the pattern.
Today Papa had a special surprise for us. He said, “The men who are making the circular staircase (there was one in each corner of the building) say you may go up as far as it is completed, but you must be very quiet, because this is the Lord’s house.”
I took Heman’s hand, and together we climbed the huge stone steps—up, up, up until we were out of breath. It was easier going down. Then Papa took us into the carpenter shop where wood for the building was sawed. On the floor was a heap of clean sawdust and Papa told us that the foreman said it would be all right for us to take some home so Mama could show us how to make a pincushion. “Someday it will be a fine thing,” Papa said, “to have a pincushion made with temple sawdust.”
Eagerly we filled the basket with fragrant sawdust and hurried home. But Mama had no time right then to help with a pincushion. She was trying to finish the washing and ironing for Sister Young, who lived next door, and the baby was cross. I rocked the baby to sleep, then helped Mama prepare supper.
In the evening, after the dishes were washed and put away, Mama found a piece of sturdy brown cloth on which she drew a large fig leaf. She showed me how to embroider green lines for veins and outline the edge with a blanket stitch. A matching piece for the back was sewed to the front, leaving a hole near the top to pour in the temple sawdust until the leaf would hold no more. Then we sewed the hole shut so none of the precious sawdust would be lost. When the pincushion was finished I proudly showed it to Papa for his approval, then placed it on top of Mama’s bureau with my other special treasures.

While Peter was lying in the hospital as a 19-year-old trying to figure out his future, he asked himself, “What one thing would I have to accomplish that would mean I had overcome my problems?” He was influenced by some books on selling that his friend had read to him before his bandages were removed from his eyes. He decided that if he could be a successful life insurance sales manager that would mean (1) he was able to develop a good relationship with people individually, (2) he would have gained an education, and (3) he would have proven his credibility and ability in one area.
With this goal in mind, Peter began researching insurance companies. He contacted 59 companies and was not offered a single job. He finally landed a position as a planning manager for an insurance company. He had his toe in the door. Through persistence, hard work, and going to school at the same time, Peter began learning the business.
By the time Peter and Marj were married, he had paid off all his debts to doctors and hospitals, but he was starting married life with no assets except his confidence and attitude. In 10 years he has built all that he and his family have from scratch, by determination and discipline. From an accident that could have been devastating to any future accomplishment, Peter Jeppson struggled against adversity to become a successful businessman, church leader, husband, and father. He is now the owner of his own insurance and investment agency, has served on the General Board of the Young Men, and has four children, two daughters and two sons.

One day the sister missionaries knocked on my door and my mother answered. I remember her telling them, “Well, I am not interested, but my daughter would be. Wait, I will get her.”
When I started to talk to them, I could feel the Spirit telling me to listen. After a few months of listening and learning, I knew that this was what I had been looking for. Even though it didn’t feel like it to begin with, my decision to be baptized helped me to come not only closer to the Lord and but also closer to ending my ongoing battle against loneliness.

“Amy,” Steve said breaking the awkward silence, “today when I was climbing, I couldn’t think about anything except those four sets of missionaries I went through during my conversion. Elder Snow gave up a baseball scholarship. Elder Decker postponed his education. Another missionary’s father had to work two jobs to support him. And then all I thought about was a postage stamp.”
Amy shook her head, pulling a weed from the soil and picking it apart. “You climbed Storm Mountain, fasting and everything, and all you could think about was a postage stamp?”
Steve’s voice was barely audible. Amy knew right away he was going to talk about his mother. “Once when I was six or seven years old and my dad was out of town, my mom needed a postage stamp to mail Uncle Robert’s birthday card. We lived in the country. The mailman would pick up the mail but couldn’t sell us stamps. Mom couldn’t wait until Dad got back home with the car or the card wouldn’t arrive at the right time.
“Mom sent me to Mrs. Harold’s down the lane. She was an old lady who kind of looked after Mom and me when Dad was on the road. Of course Mrs. Harold loaned me the stamp, and we mailed the card on time. But the next day Mom told me we were going to pack a picnic lunch and walk the two miles to the post office to buy a stamp to replace the one we borrowed from Mrs. Harold.”
Steve picked up a little rock and tossed it down the hillside. “I remember saying to her, ‘Why don’t we just bake her some cookies or just give her ten cents to cover the cost of the postage stamp?’
“And then I said, ‘We could wait until Dad gets home in a few days and drive to the post office. Why today? What’s a couple more days?’
“Mom put her arms around me. Then she said, ‘Because today is the day we owe for the postage stamp, not tomorrow or the next day.’”
Steve tightened his arm around Amy. “Uncle Robert got his card when he needed it, and the debt was paid when it was owed.”

I almost left the Church over a disagreement with my stake president. I felt he had done something that was not right. His actions did not reflect the way I thought things should happen, so I stopped going to church.
My wife told me, “You can’t make a decision like that without some serious prayer and fasting.”
She was right. After I had prayed for some time, the following words came to me clearly and directly: “The servant of God is called of God.”
That night I had a dream. In my dream my grandfather rebuked me for fighting against my leader. I then woke up from my dream and could not sleep for the rest of the night. After a long night of deep pondering, I knew what I needed to do. I went to my stake president and apologized. He happily accepted my apology, and we prayed together.
Immediately I returned to church. Two weeks later my company transferred me to Abuja, the capital of Nigeria. Baffled, I wondered why I was being pulled out of the stake after my efforts to reconcile myself.
I soon learned that the Lord was preparing me. During my second month in Abuja, I was called as a branch president.
I’m sure that Heavenly Father wanted to teach me the importance of sustaining Church leaders before He called me to be a leader. This experience strengthened my testimony. Now I try my hardest to listen to the counsel of my leaders because I know they are called of God. And anyone He calls, He qualifies.1

“It is related of Tamerlane (1336–1405) the honored warrior, the terror of whose arms spread through all the eastern nations, and who was victorious at almost every step, that he once learned from an insect a lesson of perseverance, which had a striking effect upon his future character and success.

“When closely pursued by his enemies—as a contemporary tells the story—he took refuge in some old ruins, where left to his solitary musings, he espied an ant tugging and striving to carry a single grain of corn. His unavailing efforts were repeated sixty-nine times, and at each time as soon as he reached a certain point of projection, he fell back with his burden, unable to surmount it; but the seventieth time he carried away the grain of corn, in triumph, and left the wondering hero reanimated and exulting in the hope of future victory.”