Gospel Story Finder

In November 2001 my younger sister was diagnosed with a serious form of cancer. She was 45 years old and the mother of four sons, one serving a mission in Portugal. Immediately, her ward and stake in Arizona, as well as her family, began to fast and pray in her behalf. But before the end of May, the cancer had won the battle, and she fell into a coma. After we received priesthood blessings and prayed fervently, we decided to remove her from life support. The doctors assured us that her passing would be quick. But eight days later her status had remained the same, making each day long and grievous.
The previous few months had been a time of reflection for our family. We loved my sister, and although we understood the plan of salvation, it was difficult at times to have faith in the Lord that all would be well. Somehow we felt that if we had enough faith, my sister would be cured. So we questioned the power of that faith. We knew that Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers, but we were devastated by His answer and unable to feel at peace.
Our stake conference in Utah was scheduled for June 2, with a visit from an Area Seventy. Because of the number of members in the stake, stake conference was divided into two sessions. Our three sons who were attending a singles ward in the stake were assigned to the morning session. The rest of the family was to attend the afternoon session. My husband and I decided that attending the morning session as a family would be best. Shortly after we made that decision, however, my husband and I were invited to offer the prayers for the afternoon session. So we changed our plans.
During the Saturday evening session of conference, we noted a change. Elder L. Whitney Clayton of the Seventy had been assigned to our conference at the last minute, replacing the Area Seventy.
On Sunday afternoon Elder Clayton began by saying he felt impressed to completely change his talk. The Spirit told him he needed to speak to a family present that day. I immediately sensed that he would be speaking to our family. He told of a stake president whose wife was diagnosed with cancer. After much prayer and fasting by family members, friends, and members of her stake, she had fully recovered.
Elder Clayton then talked about another stake president, one whose wife had died of cancer during his service as stake president. She left several small children in his care. Many people had also fasted and prayed for her recovery. This story was particularly touching to Elder Clayton because this woman was his wife’s only sister.
Elder Clayton went on to explain that no matter how much faith is exercised at times like these, sometimes the answer is no. Then he read what has become one of our family’s favorite scriptures, Daniel 3:17–18:
“If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king.
“But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up” (emphasis added).
Elder Clayton did not speak of any doctrine that was new to us that afternoon. But a miracle happened that left us in awe. The Lord made sure we would be in attendance during the afternoon session by inspiring someone to ask us to pray. He also arranged for one of His servants, one who had had an experience similar to ours, to speak to us. And finally, He gave us someone wise and obedient who had lived his life in such a way that he could hear the Spirit and respond accordingly. Our spirits were touched in indescribable ways by that experience.
The next day we received the call telling us my sister had passed away. Although we were saddened, a sweet spirit of comfort was in our home as we prayed for her family—this time with full confidence that the Lord’s will had been done—and thanked Him for His precious answer to our prayers.

I stopped at the bottom of Sanford’s huge sycamore tree and looked up the ladder of wooden slats that led to the door of our clubhouse. I avoided looking at the sign that read, “FOR BOYS ONLY” nailed to the tree trunk.
I glanced back uneasily at Meg and Michelle, the two sisters who had moved in next door to us the day before.
“The clubhouse is way up there,” I muttered, nodding toward our hideout overhead. “It’s pretty high up—kind of scary too. There’s not much to see. Are you sure you want to go up?”
Meg, the older of the two, gazed up into the branches. “Looks like a pretty neat place. I’m not afraid of heights, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Who put that up?” Michelle asked, pointing to the sign.
“We did.”
“Well, it’s kind of dumb, if you ask me,” she muttered. “Why aren’t girls allowed?”
“We like it that way.”
“Your mom said you’d take us up,” Michelle reminded me. “I’d like to see what it’s like.”
When Mom asked me to show Meg and Michelle around the neighborhood, I told her that I wouldn’t. She just shrugged and said something about my not getting to do something the next time I wanted to. Well, I knew what she was thinking about: Garett Hadfield’s family was going to Disneyland in two weeks, and Garett had asked me to go with them.
Slowly I turned back to the ladder, grabbed the first slat, and started up. When I reached the trapdoor in the middle of the clubhouse floor, I could hear voices inside. I gulped and knocked softly.
“Who’s there?” a voice growled.
“Me, Jared,” I answered meekly.
The trapdoor opened. I pulled myself up through the opening and sat there with my legs dangling down. “Hi,” I greeted them sickly. I looked around. Sanford was there. Garett too. Then I saw Will, Andrew, and Mark in the dim light. The whole club was there, except Paul. “I brought some … uh … some visitors,” I explained. “They’re our new neighbors.”
“Let’s have a look,” Sanford said.
I gulped again, pulled my feet up, and slid across the floor to sit against the wall. Then Meg’s head poked up through the trapdoor. She looked around and grinned. “Hi. I’m Meg.”
“A girl!” all the guys gasped, jumping to their feet. They stared at Meg as she climbed into the clubhouse, then glared at me.
Before the guys had a chance to get over their shock, Michelle poked her head up through the hole.
“Another girl!” the guys groaned.
“What’s wrong with girls?” Michelle challenged them.
“You brought girls into the clubhouse?” Andrew asked, pointing at me. He turned to the girls. “Didn’t you read the sign?”
“Sure,” Michelle retorted before I had a chance to open my mouth. “But we figured anybody dumb enough to put up a sign like that didn’t know what he was doing anyway.”
“It’s just for today,” I put in. “I’m just showing them around. Mom made me.”
“I haven’t even let my mom come up here,” Sanford protested. He glowered at the girls. “I say they leave right now.”
I looked at Garett. He looked back at me and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me,” he said. “They look all right.”
Well, as long as Garett was with me, I still had a shot at Disneyland, so I didn’t much care what the others thought. “I say they stay,” I said, standing up. “The clubhouse is part mine.”
“My dad built it!” Sanford shouted.
“He couldn’t have built it without my dad’s lumber,” I reminded him. “I say they stay.”
For a few minutes we all just sat there glaring at each other. Then Mark spluttered, “Listen, guys, we have a bigger problem than these girls to worry about—remember? Today’s the day we’re supposed to play the Highland Heights team.”
Then all of us boys groaned. We had been bragging to the Highland Heights team that we could beat them. All that they had to do was name the time and place. Well, they’d named the city park as the place, and this morning as the time. But our best pitcher had the chicken pox!
“We just can’t play them today,” Will croaked. “We don’t stand a chance without Paul pitching.”
“I can pitch,” Sanford volunteered.
“And we can help out,” Meg said.
“We let you come into our clubhouse just this once,” Sanford growled, “but that doesn’t mean we’re going to let you play baseball with us. Those guys would laugh us clear out of the park.”
“We’re going to need all the help we can get,” Garett said uneasily.
“Are you saying that we should let girls play ball with us?” Sanford yelped.
Garett shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe they can fall down in front of a ball. At least we can cover the field that way.”
“I say girls don’t play on our team,” Sanford insisted, folding his arms across his chest defiantly. “If they want to come, they can cheer for us.”
“We’re not cheerleaders,” Michelle protested. “We know how to play ball. Meg and I were in a league where we used to live.”
“I say we let them play,” I said, starting for the door. “If we lose, we’ll just say it was the girls’ fault.”
Michelle grabbed my arm and turned me around. “We don’t play on a losing team. We play to win.”
When we reached the city park, the Highland Heights team was there waiting for us. “We thought you got scared and decided not to show up,” TJ Blake called out as we walked up. TJ was the leader of his team and their best player. He could hit a home run almost every time. He started to grin. “No wonder you’re late. You had to find some girls to help you out. That’s OK with us—you’ll need all the help you can get.”
Well, the Highland Heights team batted first. We put Meg and Michelle in the outfield, where there’s a little less action. Sanford pitched, but he pitched everything that the other team wanted. The first three batters got hits and loaded the bases. Then TJ came to bat, grinning.
“I thought you said you could pitch,” I shouted at Sanford as I covered first base. “Now they’ll have four runs and no outs.”
“Well, you haven’t done anything to help,” he growled back at me. “The only thing you’ve done is drag those two girls along.”
“Michelle can pitch,” Meg called from center field. “She’s a good pitcher. She pitched for our old team.”
I looked at Garett, who was playing second. He shrugged. “She can’t be much worse than Sanford,” he muttered.
TJ laughed as Michelle came in to pitch. “Oh, I love it! I get to bat against a girl.” Then he frowned. “Just make sure you get it this far,” he grumbled at Michelle.
Michelle ignored him. She turned to me. “Meg plays shortstop better than any guy I know.”
I looked over at Mark, who was playing shortstop. “Mark, why don’t you trade places with Meg?”
“With a girl?” he protested.
“It’s just for a little while,” Garett explained. “Besides, we’re going to need three good outfielders while TJ bats.”
“Come on, little girl, throw it here,” TJ taunted when Michelle was ready to pitch.
Michelle just glared at TJ, then wound up and let the ball fly. It zoomed right across the plate, and TJ swung hard enough to knock it clear over Mark’s head. But he missed the ball! Instead, he spun around and fell on the ground. Everybody on our team laughed as TJ stood up, brushed himself off, and got ready to bat again.
“Don’t let a little girl strike you out!” chortled Jason, who was catching.
TJ glared at him, then turned back to Michelle, who was already winding up. Again she let the ball fly across the plate. TJ swung and got just a piece of it. Foul ball. The next time, Michelle wound up and looked like she was going to throw that ball clear into next week. But it was a slow one. TJ swung and missed the ball completely.
We all cheered as TJ stomped away from the plate. Clay Barnes came up to bat next. He missed the first two pitches, but on the third pitch, he hit a line drive—straight for Meg! I thought for sure that it was going to knock her right off her feet, but she snagged the ball and burned it over to me for a double play.
TJ pitched for his team. Boy, was he mad! And the first one to go to bat was Michelle. The fielders came in, since it was just a girl batting, and on the first pitch Michelle got a piece of that ball and knocked it over Clay Barnes’s head into right field.
We beat the Highland Heights team that afternoon ten to eight. And we were sure glad that Meg and Michelle had refused to cheerlead for us.
When we got back to Sanford’s backyard, his mom called from the back porch, “Sanford, there are some cookies and punch in your clubhouse.”
“How’d they get up there?” Sanford asked, surprised.
“You’ve never invited me up, so I decided I’d use the cookies and punch as an excuse to take a look around.”
“You went into our clubhouse?” Sanford gasped. “But it’s just for boys!”
“Don’t worry about it, Sister Nichols,” I called to Sanford’s mom. “You’re not the first girl that’s ever been there.”
“And you won’t be the last,” Michelle added, grinning.
As we were about to climb the tree, I looked at the FOR BOYS ONLY sign. I shook my head and turned to Garett. “There’s a pencil up in the clubhouse. Would you go get it?”
When Garett came back down with the pencil, I grabbed it and scribbled on the sign, “(AND A FEW GOOD GIRLS).”
We all looked at the sign and grinned, then climbed up for cookies and punch.

At age 17, Kevin Knight, a priest in the Valley View Tenth Ward (Salt Lake City), has already proved himself to be a young man of unusual accomplishment and ability. This past summer Kevin was awarded third place in the Exploring Magazine Contest. Because of Kevin’s accomplishments as a student, Church member, and Scout, and because of his penetrating essay on East Africa, he was chosen to make a safari into East Africa to view the people, the country, and the wildlife. Kevin feels deeply about the problems and challenges of African people and wildlife and expresses his feelings through some beautiful photographs and thoughts that he now shares with you.
“The spectacular wildlife of Africa will leave a lifelong imprint on my mind. I more fully feel the value of God’s creatures and the need to preserve them.”
“Experiencing the animal wonders of East Africa is an excellent way to see the beauty in all living things. The aesthetic sense of man can be dulled after centuries of life in cities. Seeing the beauty of an area untouched by civilization instills a sense of destiny and a feeling of respect for the Creator of these natural wonders.”
“The traditional attitude of the Africans toward game animals has been that of depending on them for food and other necessities. This attitude is evident in the Swahili phrase ‘nyama ya mungu,’ which means ‘meat of God.’”
“East African wildlife reserves are some of the last places remaining on earth where man is still an intruder.”

A wealthy merchant builds a great palace with high walls to protect his beautiful daughter, Danina, from the sadness of the world. One day Danina hears the song of the wind and learns that the world beyond the walls is always changing—sometimes sad and sometimes happy, but different each day. Afterward the palace becomes a prison to Danina, but she keeps the song of the wind alive by humming to herself until they meet again.

When Tyler was four, he loved listening to the piano and wanted to start taking lessons. As soon as he grew tall enough for his feet to reach the pedals, he started playing the organ. He loves it!
Tyler wakes up at 5:30 every morning so he can play the organ at the Church building before school. Once Tyler got to play “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” on the Tabernacle organ on Temple Square.
Tyler also plays the prelude music for sacrament meeting. He says, “Playing music makes me happy because when I go on my mission, I’ll be able to play.”

The last group reached camp at 10:30 P.M. after stopping on the trail to rest and cook dinner. A mile from camp an “emergency squad” met the stragglers and helped carry their packs. Somehow 18 people were squeezed into the four-bunk cabin.

Claudia Laur, a Mia Maid in the Munich Third Ward, Munich Germany Stake, realized there were many activities in the ward for the young ladies but not many for the elderly sisters. Because she felt that particularly those who lived alone might not be benefiting from the same warmth of fellowship, she gathered the Mia Maids and Beehives together and planned an afternoon for the older sisters in the ward. The Merrie Miss Primary class was also invited to participate.
At a planning meeting, a program was outlined, including a difficult-to-learn round dance, a medley of favorite songs from the 50s, self-composed sketches and pantomimes, question-and-answer games in which the older sisters would participate, comedy, hymns (to add a spiritual side to the activity), and of course, refreshments.
Soon they had polished their routines, choreographed their steps, rehearsed their lines, and prepared their props. On the day of the gathering, decorations transformed the cultural hall into a cozy “Café in the Woods,” a comfortable setting for the older ladies to relax in while they enjoyed the show.
“We had a delightful afternoon,” one of the invited guests said. “They welcomed us warmly and escorted us to our tables, which were decorated with flowers and a nice little personal card. Their happy program put us in a joyful mood. We couldn’t help but feel that they served with love. It helped us to feel the unity that can come to sisters in the Church.”
Beehive Andrea Klein agreed: “It was really nice to see the older sisters so happy about such little things. The preparation and practices took a lot of time and required patience and effort, but it was well worth it.”

May I tell you about a young man who had the courage to hearken. Elder Marion D. Hanks introduced us to Jay nearly twenty years ago at general conference. Elder Hanks described a twelve-year-old deacon whose body suffered from muscular atrophy. His loving father carried him as he passed the sacrament, gathered fast offerings, and went about his Scouting activities.
The remainder of Jay’s story exemplifies inspiration and courage. His body continued to suffer the ravages of his disease while his mind continued to be inquisitive and very bright. Because of his disease, Jay was unable to attend high school but rather had home study. He loved seminary and attended regularly. He was one of the speakers at his seminary graduation, addressing his classmates from his wheelchair. Jay’s positive approach to life and his cheery, radiant disposition were uplifting. Jay loved to attend dances. He made his wheelchair dance. He enjoyed music and often sang the hymns of the Restoration in beautiful, clear, melodic tones.
More than anything, Jay loved the Lord. When he turned nineteen, he wanted to hearken to the prophet’s request that every young man serve a mission. By this time, Jay spent much of his time on a soft mat on the living room floor of his home. Much of the muscle tissue of his body had wasted away. He desperately wanted to serve a mission. He found a way to serve in spite of his handicap. While lying on his back on the floor, he painstakingly prepared, with the help of some friends, over 150 copies of the Book of Mormon with his picture and testimony. They were sent to friends serving missions around the world for distribution. Jay received a letter from President Kimball expressing gratitude for his service and courage in hearkening to the call to missionary service.
Thanks to “angel” parents, Jay attended college. He was pushed by his dad from class to class. At times it was necessary for him to lie on a table at the rear of the classroom. He was an excellent student, receiving distinguished grades in difficult courses. Jay passed away three years ago, but his splendid example of one who courageously hearkened lives on.

For a girl who directs high school plays, sews costumes, memorizes Shakespeare, studies Russian, and performs on her school’s dance team, it’s a wonder she finds time to do anything else—especially take care of her diabetes. Adrienne was diagnosed with diabetes when she was 11, but she hasn’t let that get her down.
“There’s really no point in being sad about it,” Adrienne says, “because it’s not going to change it. You might as well make the best of the situation and do things a normal kid would do.” She makes sure to take care of herself physically and spiritually. She tries to do constructive things that make her happy. “If you do all you can, pray, and have faith in Heavenly Father,” she says, “then He’ll help you accomplish the rest.”
Adrienne has been a resource to many around her. Before moving to Utah, she was asked to teach a class on diabetes at a science museum in Minnesota. “It’s fun being able to bring something exciting out of a trial like this,” she says.
She’s also discovered that the gospel is a strength. “The Savior went through a lot more than I did. And I know that He always understands. You try your hardest, and if that’s all you can do, then don’t stress.”

There is one sport that everyone in Brazil loves—football. And there is no bigger football event than the World Cup. So when Fabiana Silva, a member of the Brasil Ward, Vitória da Conquista Brazil Stake, won a contest and got to attend the 1998 World Cup in France, she was thrilled! But she had no idea it would become a missionary opportunity.
The other contest winners couldn’t help noticing Fabiana’s standards as they attended football game after football game, and Brazil headed to the final game against France. They respected her modest dress, her positive attitude, and her clean language. That respect turned to disbelief, though, when she told them she would not be attending the championship because it was going to be held on Sunday.
Despite pressure and even ridicule from the group, Fabiana stood firm. Sunday found her reading scriptures in her hotel room because she didn’t know where to find a local chapel. Brazil lost; the group went home.
A few weeks later Fabiana was surprised to receive a letter from Fábio Fan, another contest winner from across the country. He told her he was impressed by her standards and that he was investigating the Church. Later he sent another letter—he had been baptized. Fábio then helped bring members of his family into the Church and served a mission.
Fabiana also served a mission, to Campinas, Brazil, where she was well prepared because she had already learned that “the most effective tract we will carry will be the goodness of our own lives and example.”

A word of caution may be in order here, however. A friend of mine named Doug lost his father in an automobile accident when he was about thirteen years old. Though he knew they meant well, it was difficult for him to hear his friends whose parents were still living say, “I know exactly how you feel.” The fact is they probably didn’t, and consequently their well-intentioned remarks sounded hard. A simple “I’m sorry” would have been more appropriate. Furthermore, Doug felt oppressed by those people who felt it was their duty to get him to “talk about it” every time they associated with him. Once he felt the concern and sympathy of his friends by their simple expressions of sympathy, he preferred to introduce the subject himself.

Happy Grandpa Day!
Hmm? You mean Grandpa’s birthday?
We know you miss him a lot, and we do too.
So today we want to celebrate him. We’ll do all his favorite things together!
Grandpa’s flowers are growing so well!
Stroganoff was Grandpa’s favorite meal. I made it for him every Sunday!
Mmmm.
Remember that GIANT sandcastle he helped us build? It was as big as me!
Thanks, kids. It was a great day.
We love you, Grandpa! And we know we will be with you again someday because of Jesus Christ.
You can share family memories on FamilySearch.org!

“Actually, I can” is my personal motto. When people meet me for the first time, they don’t realize that I can do a lot of things if I’m creative and put my mind to it.
When I was eight years old, I was diagnosed with juvenile idiopathic arthritis. I thought I would have to give up all the things I love to do—dance, softball, volleyball—but my medication allowed me to keep living my normal life. I stayed super active and kept doing what I loved. I even started playing the snare drum in marching band. Then in 10th grade, my arthritis flared up and I got really sick. I couldn’t hold up my snare drum anymore. And I had to quit dance because it was too difficult for me to participate.
I tried to stay positive. But I really missed my snare drum. Even though I wanted to give up, my family encouraged me to find hope. We figured out how to attach my snare drum to my wheelchair, and soon I was playing in the marching band again!
Lots of times when we’re faced with challenges, we automatically think we can’t do it. But the truth is that “actually, I can.”
Jess P., 17, Utah, USA

This is me deciding if I should go to a party or go to church. I went to church because it was the right choice.
Ara A., age 8, Cheshire, England

(93) As a full-time missionary, Ronald A. Rasband uses his foot to stop a door from closing.

A beautiful young girl as white as snow finds a home in the forest with seven dwarfs until her jealous stepmother discovers she is still alive. The ending and the unusually lovely detailed illustrations of this 1973 Caldecott Award honor book give a different flavor to a favorite old tale.

In Missouri they built another center. This was to have been Zion. That dream was blasted with rifle fire, the burning of homes, the wolf cries of the night-riding mobs, the illegal expulsion order, followed by the painful march across the bottomlands of the Mississippi and the crossing of the river to a temporary asylum in Illinois.

“Grandma and Grandpa live in Oregon, so we went up there for a while and stayed with them,” says Billy A., 14. “I was impressed by how kind people were to us while we were there. Now I’m back here, and I can see the community starting to rise from the ashes. It’s great to see how, when people get thrown together, they do their best to help each other. It reminds us that we’re all children of God.”

Beauty, Brave and Beautiful The little dog’s eyes were crossed, her legs were crooked, her tail was bent, her nose was bulbous, and her fur felt like coarse straw. The children named her Beauty. They knew that “Beauty is as beauty does.” And she was as brave as she was beautiful.Dick Gackenbach5–9 years

Others, like Holly Mattison, 16, talked about living the gospel in a high school where, as a Latter-day Saint, she’s outnumbered. “It’s not always easy,” she said. “There are lots of challenges.” But she said a talk at one of the devotional reminded her that the Savior loves her, that he know her by name and will help her to be strong.