Gospel Story Finder

Granny keeps a plastic pail
filled with colored chunks of chalk.
At her house she lets us draw
on the driveway, porch, and walk.
Sometimes it gets to be a mess,
but she says, “Never fear.
Just a whisk of water, and
it all will disappear.”
My brother drew a blue spaceship;
I filled in moon and stars.
Next I made yellow cats and dogs;
He drew green dinosaurs.
Granny traced around our shapes
from our head down to our toes.
Then we got up and colored in
our hair and eyes and clothes.
Granny loved our work and said,
“We’ll leave it for today.
This sidewalk art is much too nice
to simply wash away!”

Jules Feifer wrote the following article, “Be Yourself”:
“Ever since I was a little kid, I didn’t want to be me. I wanted to be Billie Widdledon, and Billie Widdledon didn’t even like me. I walked like he walked—I talked like he talked—I signed up for the high school he signed up for.
“Which was when Widdledon changed. He began to hang around Herby Vandeman. He mixed me up! I began to walk and talk like Billie Widdledon, walking and talking like Herby Vandeman.
“And then it dawned on me that Herby Vandeman walked and talked like Joey Haverlin. … And Joey Haverlin walked and talked like Corky Sabison! So here I am, walking and talking like Billie Widdledon’s imitation of Herby Vandeman’s version of Joey Haverlin, trying to walk and talk like Corky Sabison!
“And who do you think Corky Sabison is always walking and talking like? Of all people—Dopey Wellington—that little pest who walks and talks like me!”

People tried to steal the plates many times. Once Joseph hid them under the bricks of the fireplace.
Another time he hid them in the barn loft. Once on a trip Joseph and Emma hid the plates in a barrel of beans.

I was sitting in my advanced neuroscience class during my last semester of undergraduate work at Brigham Young University. One of my favorite things about BYU was that most of my classes began with a prayer. This morning, it was Josh’s turn to pray (name has been changed).
I had met Josh in a biology class the previous year. He had a quiet confidence that set him apart from the other premedical students, and he was someone I looked up to. He seemed to get good grades effortlessly. While the rest of us scrambled for scientific research experience to pad our graduate school applications, he had chosen to study with a renowned religious scholar instead.
In contrast, my own college experience had been frustrating. I didn’t do poorly, but I was never the top student in any of my classes. Despite the time I spent doing homework and working with professors, I never felt that I was performing as well as I could have. What was Josh’s secret? What was he doing that I wasn’t? That morning, his simple prayer held the answer.
He began by reverently addressing Heavenly Father. He respectfully thanked Him for the opportunity to be at school that morning and to learn from our accomplished professor. He thanked God for blessing us with good minds. Then he asked Him to help us remember that our talents and gifts were not ours alone but to be used in His service. He humbly concluded by asking that we be blessed with the Spirit that morning so that we could internalize what we were taught and ultimately use that knowledge to perform well on our tests, provide for our families, and serve our fellowmen.
I was touched and edified by Josh’s prayer. His attitude toward learning was quite different from mine. While I had felt I was entitled to a college education, Josh seemed truly grateful for the opportunity to learn. My goal was to get into medical school and make a good income as a doctor, but Josh was praying that what he learned would make him a better servant.
I believe our Heavenly Father blesses those who will, in turn, bless His children. When we have service as a goal, I believe that God will aid us in our righteous endeavors. As a result of Josh’s class prayer, I resolved to be more grateful for my blessings and opportunities and to approach my education with the goal of serving others better.

What a joy it is to be here with all of you! As I look at this vast audience and reflect upon our beginnings—our humble, humble beginnings—just imagine the Peter Whitmer log cabin in Fayette, New York. The dimensions as I recall were about 20 feet by 30 feet. There were two little bedrooms upstairs. The Peter Whitmer family lived there. There were no plumbing facilities in the house. There was a well outside and only a fireplace for cooking and heating, but in that humble building 170 years ago the Church was organized. Just imagine.

The Prophet Joseph had received a revelation with instructions regarding the organization of the Church. And in that humble little cabin, not only was the Church organized but the translation of the Book of Mormon was completed within one of those upstairs bedrooms made available to the Prophet Joseph and Oliver Cowdery. And in that little farmhouse the first elders of this Church were ordained, when the Prophet Joseph ordained Oliver Cowdery and then Oliver ordained the Prophet Joseph Smith. And in that little farmhouse the first sacrament meeting was held after the Church was organized. Just imagine. The sisters brought bread and some grape juice for that first sacrament. Those were the humble beginnings of what we witness here today.

Think of 1830—the meeting in that little log cabin, which for a while was the headquarters of the Church. Imagine such a historical but heavenly meeting in that 20-by-30-foot frontier cabin. Part of the account tells of Peter Whitmer’s wife, Mary. Mary Whitmer got up earlier that Sunday morning and walked out into the living room, where people were sleeping on the floor covered with homemade quilts. They had come by wagon or buggy or horse—friends and people who had heard about what would be happening on April 6th. There were probably 50 people assembled for the meeting.

1. Did you notice how focused this is? When you’re telling a story, just cut to the chase! Your listeners will appreciate it, and you’ll help them know what to look for as they hear the story.
2. Check out how this sentence sets the stage for the entire story without giving away the ending. That’s classy storytelling.
3. Now that’s a great balance of details-enough to explain the situation but not so many as to distract the listeners from the main point of the story.
“There are many ways bishops and quorum members can help to relieve the suffering and anxiety of the unemployed. 1Phil’s Auto of Centerville, Utah, is a testament of what priesthood leadership and a quorum can accomplish.2 Phil was a member of an elders quorum and worked as a mechanic at a local automobile repair shop. Unfortunately, the repair shop where Phil worked experienced economic trouble and had to let Phil go from his job. He was devastated by this turn of events.3
4. In just a couple of sentences, Bishop Edgley captures the essence of brotherhood in a priesthood quorum.
5. By showing how members of the quorum became actively involved, he helps listeners understand that the priesthood is a principle of action. He also gives ideas for how others can help in their quorums.
“On hearing about Phil’s job loss, his bishop, Leon Olson, and his elders quorum presidency prayerfully considered ways they could help Phil get back on his feet. After all, he was a fellow quorum member, a brother, and he needed help.4They concluded that Phil had the skills to run his own business. One of the quorum members offered that he had an old barn that perhaps could be used as a repair shop. Other quorum members could help gather needed tools and supplies to equip the new shop. Almost everyone in the quorum could at least help clean the old barn.5
6. See how he points out the blessings that came through the priesthood. There’s not dramatic fanfare or extra detail, but this story shares a powerful message.
7. Bishop Edgley’s closing ties the whole story together and reminds us of the main point of the experience.
“They shared their ideas with Phil; then they shared their plan with the members of their quorum. The barn was cleaned and renovated, the tools gathered, and all was put in order. Phil’s Auto was a success and eventually moved to better and more permanent quarters—all because his quorum brothers offered help in a time of crisis.6 Priesthood quorums can and must make a difference.”7
Bishop Richard C. Edgley, former First Counselor in the Presiding Bishopric, “This Is Your Phone Call,” Ensign, May 2009, 54.

Hattie W., 16, Arizona, USA
The hymns can help us have cleaner thoughts. Good music elevates the spirit. When I am able to listen to hymns, they always elevate me to a more calm and celestial sphere. They help me remember the love Heavenly Father has for each of us, and it becomes easier to avoid temptation.

On Friday, October 28, 1588, having lost its rudder to being governed solely by oar, the ship La Girona, belonging to the great Spanish Armada, collided with the rocks of Lacada Point in Northern Ireland.
The ship capsized. One of the castaways struggling to survive wore a gold ring given to him a few months earlier by his wife with the inscription, “I have nothing more to give you.”
“I have nothing more to give you”—a phrase and a ring with the design of a hand holding a heart, an expression of love from a wife to her husband.
Just as the ring was recovered from that shipwreck, when we give our hearts to God, we are rescued from the raging seas of this life, and in the process we are refined and purified through the Atonement of Christ and become “children of Christ,” being spiritually “born of Him.” Of this I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Ciomara S., age 8, Iowa, USA, and Hunter C., age 8, California, USA, are cousins who were baptized on the same day. Their grandmother was baptized too! It was a very special day for two families who had waited a very long time to see their grandma get baptized.

Long ago the renowned author Charles Dickens wrote of opportunities that await. In his classic volume entitled Great Expectations, Dickens described a boy by the name of Philip Pirrip, more commonly known as Pip. Pip was born in unusual circumstances. He was an orphan. He wished with all his heart that he were a scholar and a gentleman. Yet all of his ambitions and all of his hopes seemed doomed to failure. Do you young men sometimes feel that way? Do those of us who are older entertain these same thoughts?

Then one day a London lawyer by the name of Jaggers approached little Pip and told him that an unknown benefactor had bequeathed to him a fortune. The lawyer put his arm around the shoulder of Pip and said to him, “My boy, you have great expectations.”

Sister Franco, Second Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, talked about one of her favorite Primary teachers when she was growing up. Back then, Primary was held on Tuesday afternoon. Every week, her teacher made the class a chocolate cake! Years later, Sister Franco found out that her teacher walked instead of riding the bus so that she could save enough money to make those cakes. She was unselfish and loved her class.

My name is Skyy Elizabeth, and I will be baptized when I turn eight. When I was four years old, I was sealed to my parents, and I still remember that happy, special day. I have a baby sister named Olivia, and I love to sing Primary songs to her all the time. I love my family very much! The Friend helps me choose the right and learn how to make smart choices, even when something is hard to do. It also helps me learn Primary songs even better. I love to look for my own magazine in the mail each month.
Skyy S., age 7, California, USA

After I was baptized, the first talk I heard from the prophet, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), was about being self-reliant and being wise with your money. He also said to provide a good education for your children.1 These two things have been taught in our family and have been great blessings. My children are in good situations today—not because I’m so smart; I just chose to follow the prophets.

“Aw, Mom, it’s just not fair!” Sarah heard Ben say as she neared the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks, a wave of guilt sweeping over her. She knew what he was referring to.
“I know it isn’t, Ben,” Mother replied in a soothing tone “but you’ve got to remember that it’s not Sarah’s fault. She knows she shouldn’t be afraid of dogs, but when that little dog bit her on the lip when she was just a toddler, he left more than just a scar on her face. The scar in her mind is a deeper one.”
“I’m not blaming her, Mom,” Ben sighed. “But you know how much I’ve wanted a dog.”
Sarah silently tiptoed away from the kitchen, not wanting her mother and brother to know she’d overheard. She trudged upstairs to her bedroom and flopped on the bed. Why do I have to be such a baby? she berated herself, unconsciously tracing the scar on her lip with her finger. Ben really wants a dog, but whenever I get near one I’m scared out of my mind!
Sighing, Sarah got up and mechanically prepared for bed. After calling goodnight to everyone and saying her prayers, she climbed under the covers. But she couldn’t go to sleep.
The sudden, far-off howling of a dog broke the stillness. Sarah sat upright in bed, shivers running up her spine. I must be imagining things, she thought disgustedly. The sound’s not coming from the direction of the Johnson’s farm, and they’re the only ones with a dog around here. She lay back down and tried to make her mind a blank. Again she heard the faint but piercing cry. Thinking of Ben, tears welled up in her eyes, and she said out loud to the blackness, “But I can’t help it!” Then, burying her head under her pillow, she fell into a fitful sleep.
The next day was a busy one, for there was a lot to do on their farm. The events of the night before were forgotten until lunchtime. As everyone trooped into the kitchen, Sarah lagged behind, exulting in the freshness of the air and the stillness of the countryside when the noise of the tractor was stilled. Suddenly she heard the unmistakable barking of a dog.
“Ben, Ben!” Sarah called, running after her brother. “Did you hear that dog barking?”
Ben frowned and glared at his sister. “That’s not funny, Sarah, and I’ll thank you not to joke about it.”
“I’m not joking, Ben! I heard it last night and again just now—a dog barking and howling, but it sounds like he’s far away. Don’t you hear it?”
They both stood still for a moment. Then Ben shook his head and said, “Sorry, Sarah, but I don’t hear anything—except my stomach growling! Let’s go in and eat. Your mind must be playing tricks on you.”
Sarah tried to forget what she’d heard until that night when she lay in bed again. However, she was so exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before that she soon fell asleep.
The next morning as she climbed into the truck to go to church, Sarah thought she heard the phantom dog again. Her dad declared it must be the Johnson’s dog, but Sarah had an uneasy feeling that he was wrong. When she heard the dog again late Sunday evening, she tiptoed into her brother’s room and shook his shoulder gently.
“What is it?” Ben asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
“Ben, you’ve got to listen. I keep hearing that dog and I’m not imagining it! I’m sure it isn’t the Johnson’s dog. Please, just listen for a minute.”
After a few moments of silence, the unmistakable yowl of a dog came drifting faintly on the night air. “You’re right, Sarah!” Ben whispered excitedly. “It’s a dog in trouble, all right, and it isn’t Shep. We’d better go see if we can find it.”
“Right now?” Sarah asked. “You know we could never find anything in the dark!”
“You’re right,” Ben admitted reluctantly. “Let’s get up early and start looking as soon as it’s light. We can split up so we can cover more ground before school.”
“But Ben,” Sarah’s voice quivered a little, “can’t I go with you? What’ll I do if I find him? You know that I …”
“If you find him, you can come and get me, OK? Don’t worry. Now go back to bed and get some sleep.”
The next morning as soon as the horizon began to glow, Ben and Sarah were up and out looking for the dog. After nearly an hour they still hadn’t found anything, so they decided to try again after school. As soon as they got home that afternoon, they each grabbed a couple of cookies and headed out the door.
“You may want to take your poncho, Sarah,” Ben said, glancing up at the sky. “It looks like it might storm.”
Sarah grabbed her poncho off the nail on the back porch and headed toward the cornfields. “Why don’t you try over by the south boundary of the farm, Sarah?” Ben suggested. “Dad covered a lot of ground plowing Saturday, but he didn’t make it down that far. I’ll go the other way.”
Sarah had been looking around for about twenty minutes when she heard the mournful wail again. I’m getting close, she thought apprehensively. “Where are you?” she called, hoping the dog would bark at the sound of her voice. It did. Feeling a few drops of rain, she pulled her poncho over her head and set off in the direction of the sound, calling again as she went. The dog responded each time she called, even though she could tell from its tone that it was getting weaker with each bark.
Coming to the edge of a large irrigation canal, Sarah stopped and sharply drew in her breath at what she saw. The dog was caught in the partly flattened end of a pipe—probably crushed by a tractor, Sarah surmised. He must have gotten stuck chasing a rabbit or something. I’ve got to go get Ben so he can help get him out. Sarah turned to go, but the dog’s pleading whimper brought her back again. Rain was beginning to pelt down harder now. She looked back into the ditch and realized that if the rainwater were to swell the water level of the canal, the dog would drown. The way this storm is increasing, by the time Ben gets here it willbe too late! Sarah thought.
For a minute she panicked. “I can’t! I just can’t go near him!” she cried. Then the words seemed to enter her mind, You’ve got to, or he’ll drown! She looked again at the stricken animal and took a few faltering steps. Oh, help me! She silently prayed, then plunged headlong down the bank.
She stopped a few feet from the dog and looked at him. When the dog saw her, he whined plaintively and stared at Sarah with the most incredible look of relief and joy that Sarah had ever seen. Why, that look is almost human, Sarah thought, surprised. Impulsively, she fell to her knees and stroked the dog’s head. “You poor thing!” she murmured.
She began to tug at the dog’s shoulders in an effort to free him. The water was already beginning to collect in the canal. I’ve got to work fast, she determined. The dog was too weak to help, but he licked her hand with his tongue as she tried to lubricate the end of the pipe with a little mud and water. Days of going without food had helped to make the animal a little thinner. Before long she had him free.
“You’re going to be OK,” she said over and over as she stroked his muddy fur. Then suddenly it hit her. Why, Sarah Blackhurst, you’re petting a dog! And you’re not scared at all! The thought took her breath away. The years of fear had been forgotten in the love and pity she felt for the suffering animal.
The dog was too weak to walk, so Sarah, already muddy and wet, bundled him up in her poncho and carried him out of the gully toward home. The dog never quit looking at her, even when Ben took him out of her arms at the door to the kitchen.
“Sarah! Where did you find him? I was beginning to worry about you!” Ben cried breathlessly. “I was about to …” Suddenly Ben stopped and turned, staring into Sarah’s eyes. “Why, Sarah, you’ve been holding a dog!”
“I know,” Sarah grinned sheepishly. “I know.”
Later that evening after the dog had been fed and given a warm bath, the family sat around the fireplace talking. The dog lay curled on a blanket in front of the hearth. “You know, Sarah, I don’t think that dog’s taken his eyes off you since you found him!” Father said.
“I’ve never seen such a look of love and devotion in my whole life,” Mother commented.
“From Sarah or the dog!” Ben said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Where do you think he came from, Dad?” Sarah asked. “Do you think we can keep him?”
“Well, I think we should advertise in the paper that we’ve found him,” Dad responded, “but I doubt anyone will come for him. He’s probably a stray, abandoned in the country by somebody who wanted to get rid of him.”
“I hope we can keep him,” Sarah murmured.
“I never thought I’d ever hear you say something like that!” Ben teased. Then after a minute he said, “Hey, I thought I was supposed to be the one who got a dog!” But he winked at Sarah as he said it.

Someone once said to Mozart, “Would you teach me how to write symphonies?” Mozart said, “You are too young to write symphonies.” The young man said, “But you were fifteen years younger than I am when you began writing symphonies.” Mozart said, “But I didn’t have to ask anybody to teach me.” Only when we get some of these great qualities inside of ourselves are we in a position to make progress.

Dad made each of us kids feel special. He loved us and would forgive easily. He did his best to make sure that each of us was happy, and he made it clear that he wanted the best for us. I loved him so much.
When I was in sixth grade, my dad died in a car accident. My family and I were totally devastated. There was a big hole in our family. Dad was the one I leaned on, the one I went to if I was having problems. Instead of seeking help, I let the anger and hurt stay. I finally decided it was God’s fault. I stopped reading my scriptures and saying prayers. I went to church only because Mom wanted me to. I tried to stay far away from my Heavenly Father.
Then I went to Young Women camp for the first time. I liked meeting new friends, but I still didn’t read my scriptures. On the last night, we had a testimony meeting. I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: the Spirit. I admired the girls who got up and bore their testimonies, but I stayed seated because I thought I didn’t have one. All of a sudden I felt like I had to get up. I opened my mouth, wondering what to say. So I said I was glad for Young Women camp. Then I found myself saying that I knew Jesus Christ died for me and that my Heavenly Father loved me and that the Church was true.
I was filled with a remarkable peace. Thanks to this experience I can say that I know I will see my dad again because of the Savior’s Atonement and Resurrection.

In Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo, President Bokolo shares how he and his family joined the Church in France. One day, as he was reading his patriarchal blessing, the Spirit inspired Brother Bokolo to return with his family to the DR Congo. Brother Bokolo knew they would face many challenges if they returned. And their church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was not yet established in Kinshasa.
Yet, in faith, as have many others, the Bokolos followed the Lord’s Spirit. In Kinshasa, they ministered to and blessed those around them, overcame challenges, received spiritual and temporal blessings. Today, they rejoice in having a house of the Lord in their country.

I sit here on the beach
And watch the waves roll in.
The clouds silently scoot across the sky
As the sea gulls use them in a game of hide-and-seek.
A radio plays my favorite song,
While a group of children on down the beach
Cover themselves in sand.
The sun climbs to its high point in the sky,
And I feel the first tingle of sunburn.
Suddenly I remember—
A world of ringing telephones,
Bellowing teachers and taking exams,
Rushing and hurrying everywhere.
A world of heavy coats
And mufflers,
Sniffles and ice.
I shake my head a little
And shudder to myself trying to forget
What seems like a nightmare.
As the sun heads downward,
I walk along the water letting
The waves tickle my toes,
Content to remain
Here in reality.

Hyrum and Emilee F., ages 7 and 6, from California, USA, like going to Primary. They like singing songs and spending time with their friends.
Last December, Hyrum and his family found out that he has an illness called leukemia. He needs special medicine to help him heal. It’s important for him to stay away from germs, so he and Emilee can’t go to Primary while he’s getting better.
But their Primary leaders found a way for Hyrum and Emilee to come to Primary, even though they can’t be there in person. Each week, the Primary secretaries set up a video call with Hyrum, Emilee, and their mom! On live video they can hear the lessons in sharing time, learn the songs for the Primary program, and be with their friends. Hyrum hopes he will be better in time for his baptism this summer. Until then, he is happy he can still be part of Primary.

In 2002 I decided to run marathons. Since that time, I have run more than fifty marathons (42.2 kilometers) and ultra-marathons (beyond 42.2 km). The longest was the Comrades Marathon (90 km). Over time, I learned that consistency in my training makes a difference.
Nine weeks prior to the race day, I follow the following weekly schedule: Monday a 10 km run at the marathon pace (6 minutes per km). Tuesday is speed training, made up of an 8 km in less than 40 minutes. Wednesday is hill work. I start with a 2 km warm up, followed by running up and down a 500-­meter hill. Thursday is an easy 10 km run, much slower than the Monday 10 km, finishing at 1 hour 10 minutes. Friday is another easy run or catching up on any training missed during the week. Saturday is a slow run of two or three hours, aimed at building endurance. Sunday is a rest day—an important element of training. I also remember to keep the Sabbath day holy, for if I obey with exactness, I am guaranteed of completing any marathon within an allocated time. I use the same schedule for both standard marathons and ultras.
These daily and weekly activities work together. If one of them is missed, my run will be affected. For example, the speed work helps me finish within the allocated time, but if I don’t do my long runs on Saturday, I would not have the needed endurance. The speed might be there, but I won’t get there. If hill training isn’t done, I won’t finish in time because I would walk hills instead of running.