Gospel Story Finder

Sister Hurtado’s mother was a widow who supported her four children by what they made from a store they ran in their home. Sunday was the day the family did the most business. They lived across from a movie theater, and moviegoers would stop at their store to buy refreshments. They also sold cooking oil in large containers, and their customers always came on Sunday.
The missionaries taught and baptized the whole family. The Sunday morning following their baptisms, Sister Hurtado asked her mother who was to stay at home to tend the store. She was shocked by her mother’s response. “We are closing the store for the whole day. We are now members of the Lord’s church, and we will keep his commandments.”
Sister Hurtado reminded her mother that they would lose their best business, but her mother was firm in her decision to honor her covenant with the Lord.
They closed the store that Sunday and every Sunday thereafter. To Sister Hurtado’s surprise, they did not lose the business of those who had bought oil on Sunday. Their customers learned to come on other days to buy. In fact, their overall sales increased, even though the family was working six days instead of seven.

4. Bring a bag, backpack, or bucket filled with several heavy objects that have been labeled with sins such as cheating, disobeying parents, lying. Let the children take turns holding the heavy bag. Then have a child take out the objects. When all the “sins” are removed, the child’s “burden,” or heavy load will be light. Compare the weight of the heavy bag and the light bag. Jesus Christ told us that if we come unto Him through faith, repentance, and baptism, our burdens will be lightened. Repentance is being sorry for committing a sin, not doing it again, and then trying to live more like the Savior. Use a bottle of clear water as a representation of a person free from sin. Drop a small amount of food coloring in the water and point out how the color spreads throughout the water. Compare this to sin. Then add a few drops of liquid bleach to clear up the color. Compare this to how repentance cleanses us from sin. Note: Try this experiment in advance to know how much food coloring and bleach to use. (See Primary 4 manual, pp. 47–49.)

In 1862, six-year-old Clara Leonard lived in the town of Farmington, Utah, where more than 150 pioneer families had settled. There were log homes, rock homes, and adobe homes. They had a schoolhouse, a courthouse, and a mill for grinding wheat. But they did not have a church house. They needed a place to sing and pray.
Sometimes they held church meetings in one of the homes, but there wasn’t enough room for everyone.
Sometimes they held church meetings in the schoolhouse, but it wasn’t big enough, either.
Sometimes they held church meetings in the upper room of the adobe courthouse, but the county officials decided it could no longer be used for religious meetings.
They needed a place to sing and pray.
A lovely place, right on Main Street, was chosen as the site to build their chapel. It was next to Brother Haight’s house and hotel and across the street from Brother Penrose’s house. It would be a wonderful place for a chapel. But the church members had no money to buy building materials.
Everyone in town donated all they could to the building fund. Clara and her family worked hard to earn some extra money to give to Bishop Hess. But after all the money was counted, the building fund had only twelve dollars. They needed much more to build a beautiful place to sing and pray.
The people held a prayer meeting. They knelt and asked the Lord what to do. They had done all they could, and now they needed His help. They had faith that the Lord would know what was best.
A few days later there was a huge storm. It rained and rained. There was mud everywhere. The wind blew very hard, and some trees fell down. Clara had to stay inside all day long.
The next morning, when the storm was over, the men from the town found a rockslide about three blocks from the church lot. Tons of large rocks had slid down from the mountain. Not far from the rockslide was a place where lots of sand and gravel had washed down from the mountain, too.
There was enough rock to build a chapel! The sand and gravel could be used to make the mortar to hold the rocks together. They knew the Lord had heard their prayers and blessed them. They soon would have a place to sing and pray!
Everyone in town helped build the chapel. Some of the men hauled the rocks with ox teams. Some of the men laid the rocks to make the walls. Others worked as carpenters on the inside of the chapel, while still others made benches and tables. Even the children helped by carrying drinking water or serving food prepared by the Relief Society sisters. The chapel was 40 feet wide and 60 feet long. The stone walls were three feet thick.
As they worked, they were able to raise the rest of the money needed to complete their chapel. After two years of construction, the building was finally finished. On 9 January 1864, President Brigham Young and Elder Wilford Woodruff of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles came to Farmington to dedicate the building. Even though there was a thick blanket of snow on the ground, it was a day of jubilee and rejoicing. After the dedication, the town’s brass band played, and everyone celebrated.
At last they had a place to meet. Clara loved to go to church. She felt a sweet spirit of reverence there and found joy in hearing her leaders teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. The sacrament was passed—the bread on silver trays and the water in a tall silver cup with handles on both sides. A piano was donated, and later they got an organ. It was a wonderful place to sing and pray!

I never really understood the statement in 2 Nephi 32:5 “the Holy Ghost … will show unto you all things what ye should do” until I experienced it.
My friends and I often took our bikes to a place we called the dirt hills. It was our favorite place to go. It was only about a mile from where we lived, so we could ride our bikes to get there. We would literally spend hours at the dirt hills jumping and riding our bikes. It was great fun.
One day, my friend Tyler crashed his bike. He seemed to be OK, and the bike looked OK, so we kept jumping. After about five more minutes, I stopped. Tyler rode over to me and asked what was wrong. I told him that I had this really strong feeling that we should leave and go home, even though we had only been there about 15 minutes. Tyler told me that he had the same feeling, and we both realized it was time to go.
As we rode closer to home, Tyler said that his bike was acting weird. As we got to the corner of the street where we both lived, Tyler’s bike broke into pieces—the pedals fell off and the chain broke.
What would have happened had we not followed the prompting to leave and had still been jumping? Tyler may have been seriously hurt. The Holy Ghost knew it was time for us to go. I am so thankful that we listened.

A retired couple reported:
“The change has been very good for us. The Come, Follow Me manual provides a study routine that we can work on together. We have always read our scriptures together, but this is more structured. We also enjoy the extra time to spend with family. We serve as family history consultants in the ward, and we have seen an increase in families wanting help as they spend time searching their ancestors’ records.”

As fall quarter ended last year, a member of our branch here at the University of California at Santa Barbara stopped by my apartment to visit. He was taking the winter quarter off to do some traveling in Mexico and Central America. Since I have done some research regarding those areas, he wanted my recommendations as to what to see and where to visit. He was especially interested in things that related to the Book of Mormon.
I found it difficult to give him specific answers, so instead I tried to explain some reservations I have on the subject and then indicated those places I thought would be of interest to him. The specific places that I suggested are of little importance, but the reasoning behind my reservations crystallized during the course of our conversation. We both came away with an improved understanding of the Book of Mormon.
Up to the present time, archaeological efforts have failed to unearth documentable evidences of righteous Nephite cultures. By this I mean that artifacts may or may not belong to the Nephites. No one knows for sure. Apart from many still unresolved scholarly problems of geography and chronology, we are faced with the fact that the spectacular ruins and artifacts that are known appear to represent quite another type of civilization—one all too familiar to us and to the writers of the Book of Mormon. I encouraged my friend to visit a number of ruins and museums where he would see impressive remnants of societies that have their roots in an individual and collective rejection of the gospel message so often chronicled by Nephite prophets.

But all of my great experiences are not in the past. Branch Rickey, the great baseball manager, was once asked to describe his greatest day in baseball. He said, “I can’t because I haven’t had it yet.” And most of our greatest experiences are yet ahead of us. One of them will be the glorious second coming of Jesus Christ, when with his mighty angels in flaming fire he will come to cleanse the earth of its sins and to inaugurate the millennial reign upon this earth. Every one of us will have a literal bodily resurrection, and what a great experience that will be! Charles F. Kettering, the mechanical wizard of General Motors, once said, “My interest is in the future, because I am going to spend the rest of my life there.”

On one occasion, emotions were running high when there was a spate of gold burglaries affecting the local Asian population. In a large gathering of around 400 people and a small group of police, Arthur was able to be a calming influence and encourage people to remember the values of their faith about loving one another.

I’m sure this couple will do a marvelous work in England. On the first day of the Asays’ mission to Canada, during my orientation interviews with them, Sister Asay told me that she was nervous and frightened to be a proselyting missionary. I told her it really wasn’t that bad; all she needed to do was talk to people about the Church. And we walked through a practice session asking the golden questions.
On their first day as missionaries, while her husband was paying for some groceries, Sister Asay asked the woman at the cash register if she knew anything about the Church and if she would like to know more. As a result of that question, the woman, Betti W. Guild, was baptized along with her husband and two relatives; at least seventeen others followed.

A new convert to the Church recently shared this story. “I was in and out of enforced confinement most of my teen years. It wasn’t so bad being there because the food was pretty good, and we were treated all right. But it did get boring, so when anyone had any reading material, funny books, magazines, or anything, we would trade our food for a chance to borrow those items. One day I saw a fellow with a nice, thick book. I knew it would take a long time to read, so I offered him my pork chops, my potatoes, and all my main course food items for a week. He accepted my offer and loaned me the book. As I read it, I knew I was reading something very special and very true. The book for which I had sacrificed my food was titled the Book of Mormon. When I had a chance, I found the missionaries, changed my habits, and am now finding a new way of life. I love that book for which I traded my food.”
Here was an unusual but worthwhile sacrifice with rewarding results. This convert indicated that the more time he spends with this book, the greater his love becomes for the truths he is finding between its covers.

The Samoan way is much more than shared chores. It’s about lifting each other to a higher place whenever possible. And for a lot of families, that includes siblings helping siblings with the cost of their education.
“I work in the city to help provide money for my family, including paying for my younger brother’s schooling,” Sefa explains.
This sacrifice means a lot to Don. “This makes me feel closer to my brother,” he says. “I love him and appreciate what he’s doing for me.”
Sefa also knows that Don will ultimately be able to pay it forward. He likes to imagine the man his younger brother will grow to be. “I know that someday Don will do great things for his own family,” Sefa says. He wants his brother to have every shot at success.
Once again, it’s the Samoan way. They help build each other’s future.

6. Get involved in extracurricular activities. If your school is going to put on a play, why not get involved in it? During all those hours of rehearsal, you’ll get to be good friends with others in the cast and crew. And then there’s opening night, and everyone’s nervous, but somehow you get through it. And the second night things go even better. On the last night there’s a cast party, and you get to eat pizza and tease each other and hug everyone who’s worked on the production. It’s a nice break from class.

He keeps an Oreo cookie in a display case on his desk. It reminds him of a young boy who received a package of cookies after his long journey to a refugee camp in Lesbos, Greece. The boy insisted that President Ballard take the very first cookie.

Abby had big blue eyes and a great smile, and she loved to sing. When she bought a candy bar, she always gave Derrick half. When Derrick accidentally broke Josh’s CD player, Abby defended him against their angry brother. She always seemed to be happy. That was why it was hard for Derrick to think of her as being sad.
And she was sad. Daddy had read a letter from Abby, who was far away on a mission. She was in a country that was very, very hot. And the language the people spoke was hard for her to understand and speak. She said that she wanted to come home.
Mother had wiped her eyes on her hand. Daddy had said, “She’s just homesick. Every missionary goes through hard times.”
Derrick wanted to help Abby. But how? If she were at home, he would climb onto her lap and say something to make her laugh. But he couldn’t even write her a letter. All he could write was his name in crooked letters.
Suddenly Derrick had an idea. He grabbed his box of crayons and a piece of paper. He dashed into Abby’s bedroom and opened the curtains. It was a beautiful fall day. Outside the window he could see the bright red leaves on the maple tree. Derrick took his red crayon and began to draw what he saw.
When he finished his picture, he wrote, “Derrick” at the bottom. Then he went outside and picked up two beautiful, red leaves from beneath the maple tree.
He took the leaves and the picture to his mother. “These are for Abby,” he said.
Mother smiled and said, “She’ll love them.”
The next time a letter came from Abby, Daddy stopped reading it right in the middle, came over to Derrick, and gave him a big hug. “That was from Abby,” he said.
When winter came and snow fell soft and thick from the sky, Derrick cut out white-paper snowflakes. “These are for Abby,” he told his mother.
At Christmastime, he pulled some needles from the Christmas tree. “Please send these to Abby,” he said to his dad.
In the spring, Derrick picked blossoms from the lilac bush in the front yard. Then he carefully put them between two sheets of waxed paper and placed a big fat book on top to press them. When they were dry and flat, off they went in the mail to Abby.
Soon after that, he helped his mother bake a cake and hang balloons in the living room. He helped color a big sign that they taped to the garage door that said, “Welcome home, Abby!” Abby had completed her mission!
At the airport, Derrick waited impatiently with his family. He watched all the people coming through the doorway. Where was Abby? It had been a long time. Would he still know her when he saw her?
There she was! She was his own Abby, and she hadn’t changed. Derrick ran and threw his arms around her.
Abby knelt down beside him. “My loving little brother,” she said. “How did you think of those wonderful presents you sent to me? Do you know how happy they made me?”
Derrick smiled and said, “I just wanted to send you pieces of home.”

After World War I ended, Amelia began taking premed courses at Columbia University and at Barnard College. But studying medicine lacked the pleasure she found in nursing and Amelia soon grew restless. When a letter arrived from her family in California urging her to come west, Amelia packed her bags and bought a train ticket home.
Amelia could hardly wait for the long ride to end. Soon she was hugging her family and talking excitedly about what she had been doing. “Oh, I missed you so much!” she cried.
There was little time for Amelia to rest. The Earharts wanted their daughter to meet new people. She was invited to a number of delightful parties and picnics. Then one afternoon Amelia and her father went to see an air show in Long Beach, California.
“Well, are you having a good time?” her father asked.
“A wonderful time, Father! Wouldn’t it be glorious to fly like that!” Amelia exclaimed.
“Would you like to go up for a spin?” he questioned, catching his daughter’s enthusiasm.
“Do you think I could?” asked Amelia, hardly believing that it would be possible.
“I believe Mr. Hawks, one of the pilots, sometimes takes people up for short rides,” Mr. Earhart told his excited daughter.
“Let’s find him, Father! I just have to go up!” Amelia exclaimed.
They found Mr. Hawks and a few moments later Amelia and the pilot were taking off in a plane from a strip of graveled ground nearby. They just barely cleared the derricks of some oil wells near the end of the runway, but Amelia was too thrilled to be frightened or to notice how old and rickety the plane was.
“As soon as we left the ground,” Amelia recalled, “I knew I had to fly by myself! Miles away I saw the ocean [and] the Hollywood hills smiled at me over the edge of the cockpit. … We were friends, the ocean, the hills, and I.”
As soon as Amelia was out of the plane, she began coaxing her father to let her learn to fly. But he was hesitant and Mrs. Earhart was even more reluctant to agree to Amelia’s plan.
“Flying is not a suitable pastime or occupation for a young lady,” said Mrs. Earhart. “Flying is for men.”
“But why is it only for men, Mother?” Amelia persisted. “Why can’t a woman control an airplane as well as a man?”
“Amelia, there are some things a young lady doesn’t do. Flying is one of them,” her mother insisted.
“Voting used to be something women didn’t do,” said Amelia, not wanting to drop the subject.
“My dear,” her mother added, “there’s a big difference between marking a piece of paper and handling a flying machine.”
Though this may have ended the discussion at the moment, her parents both knew that when Amelia wanted to do something, she would find a way to do it. Before long she had a job where she could work during the week and take flying lessons on weekends. Within a year, she had made her first solo flight. In 1920, she set the women’s altitude record of 14,000 feet.

School is fun for Rachel, but she doesn’t like to get up early for it. “I could sleep until lunchtime,” she said. Usually Rachel is the first one finished with her work in class. “Then I get to help my friend Marcella. She doesn’t speak much English, so I help her. When she finishes her work, I get to put a star on her paper.”

It was my father who searched for the truth and found the missionaries. They taught us the gospel, and not long afterward, we—my parents and five brothers and sisters—were baptized. Our testimonies grew stronger. We learned so many things, especially about the Savior and about families.

Years ago, when it was common for a General Authority to tour a mission and interview all the missionaries, Elder Spencer W. Kimball, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, was visiting with an elder who was just about to finish his mission.
“When you get released, Elder, what are your plans?”
“Oh, I plan to go back to college.” And then with a smile he added, “Then I hope to fall in love and get married.”
Elder Kimball shared this wise counsel: “Well, don’t just pray to marry the one you love. Instead, pray to love the one you marry.”

My testimony of the Book of Mormon came when I was a seminary student in high school. Our teacher challenged us to read the entire book—something I had not done before. As I read, I remember how tears would stream down my cheeks as the Spirit testified to me that the words I was reading were true. I wanted to be worthy so that the Lord could say to me just as he did to Nephi, “Blessed art thou, because of they faith, for thou hast sought me diligently.” (1 Ne. 2:19.) Three years later I received my patriarchal blessing, which admonished me to read the Book of Mormon with a prayerful heart that my testimony would be strengthened. That promise has been fulfilled year after year as I have continued to study this holy book of scripture.

One day in 1961 while Elder Slagowski and I were knocking on doors in Wilhelmshaven, West Germany, an elderly widow graciously welcomed us into her humble apartment. I was so surprised that I asked if she really understood who we were. She assured us that she did and that she had been waiting for us.
She told us that two Latter-day Saint elders had knocked on her door decades before, when she was a young mother. Because she was busy at the time, she had turned them away. Afterward she felt terrible about it and vowed that if Latter-day Saint missionaries ever knocked again, she would invite them in.
Emma Henke had a keen mind, and she listened to our message intently, but she often seemed to have a distant, far-off look. She was kind to us and was always eager to share her meager fare, but we wondered if she truly comprehended the importance of our message. Finally we decided to put her on our callback list and just drop by from time to time when we were in the neighborhood.
A few weeks later we stopped in again. As we visited, Emma suddenly announced, to our surprise, her determination to be baptized!
It was only then that she began sharing details from her difficult life. During the last days of World War I, her infant daughter had died. In 1924 a nine-year-old daughter had succumbed to diphtheria. During the winter of 1941–42 she had received her last letter from her 21-year-old son, who was fighting on the Russian front during World War II. She learned of his death a short time later.
Emma’s husband, Hugo, had despised the policies of the Nazi government. She often pleaded with him to be more cautious. Early one day in 1944, after a government radio-beam locator tracked a British Broadcasting Corporation signal to the Henkes’ home, the Gestapo broke down the door and arrested him. He was sent to a concentration camp near Hamburg, and Emma and their last surviving child, a young son, were left to fend for themselves.
Emma went to the local Nazi official responsible for her husband’s imprisonment and pleaded on her knees for his life but to no avail. She later learned of Hugo’s death in March 1945. The official himself was subsequently sentenced to life in prison but had been released shortly before we knocked on Emma’s door. She said she often saw him speeding along the streets of the city in an expensive new car. On the day she requested baptism, Emma said she had finally found the strength to forgive him for taking away her husband and rejecting her pleas for mercy. She had resolved to leave judgment in the hands of the Lord.
Emma became a faithful member of the Church and found great joy and comfort in discovering the truths of the restored gospel. In November 1966, while hurrying across a public square in Wilhelmshaven on her way to a Relief Society meeting, she collapsed and died of a heart attack.
Sister Henke refused to become embittered by the trials of her life, and she died free of the rancor of revenge. Surely this dear sister enjoyed a marvelous reunion with those she had loved and lost.