Gospel Story Finder

“With the knowledge we have, we may mourn, but we need never despair. We have a little granddaughter in Seattle, Washington. There the daily rain keeps the sun and stars alike hidden much of the time, so she hasn’t really seen stars. We think there are lessons to learn from them; they are brighter in winter’s night, you know. I explained this to this little girl when we stood on a clear night looking into heaven. I smiled at her wonderment at first seeing stars crowd the nighttime.
“‘Are they there every time it gets dark, even if I don’t see them?’ she asked. I assured her they were, even behind the clouds.
“‘Then darkness isn’t so bad, is it? If you know the stars are there.’
“It has application to life, doesn’t it?”

When I was called as a General Authority by President Russell M. Nelson, I was flooded with emotions. It was overwhelming. My wife, Julie, and I anxiously awaited the Saturday afternoon session of general conference. It was humbling to be sustained. I carefully counted the steps to my designated seat so as not to fall in my first assignment.
At the conclusion of that session, something happened that had a profound effect on me. The quorum members formed a line and greeted the new General Authorities one by one. Each one shared their love and support. With a hearty abrazo they said, “Don’t worry—you belong.”
In our relationship with the Savior, He looks on the heart and is “no respecter of persons.” Consider how He chose His Apostles. He didn’t pay attention to status or wealth. He invites us to follow Him, and I believe He reassures us that we belong with Him.
This message especially applies to the youth of the Church. I see in you what President Nelson sees in you. He said that “there is something undeniably special about this generation of youth. Your Heavenly Father must have great confidence in you to send you to earth at this time. You were born for greatness!”
I am grateful for what I learn from the youth. I am grateful for what my children teach me, for what our missionaries teach me, and for what my nieces and nephews teach me.
Not too long ago, I was working on our farm with my nephew Nash. He is six and has a pure heart. He is my favorite nephew named Nash, and I believe I am his favorite uncle speaking in conference today.
As he helped me come up with a solution for our project, I said, “Nash, that is a great idea. How did you get so smart?” He looked at me with an expression in his eyes that said, “Uncle Ryan, how do you not know the answer to this question?”
He simply shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and confidently said, “Jesus.”
Nash reminded me that day of this simple and yet profound teaching. The answer to the simplest questions and to the most complex problems is always the same. The answer is Jesus Christ. Every solution is found in Him.

—“My dad runs a welding shop,” said Blaine Hill, 19, who hails from Burley, Idaho. “He was always building swing sets and monkey bars for the family, doing repairs and making things for people. I grew up with welding.”
But he had no idea that it was the sort of thing he could get a degree in.
“I imagined that when you went to college you’d have to major in something big, like being a doctor or a lawyer or something to make money. I thought welding was something you did in your spare time.”
Then in high school, he heard about a welding contest sponsored by Ricks. He entered it, and it changed his life.
“I won a scholarship, so I came here just to get a feel of what it would be like.”
Not only did he discover that “welding is what I’d like to do for the rest of my life,” he also found out that it’s a topic of study and research at a number of major universities.
Blaine is currently serving in the Oregon Portland Mission. When he returns, he’ll “probably go on to Arizona State University for a master’s degree in welding engineering and technology.” That program, like the associate degree program at Ricks, has a job placement approaching 100 percent.

Once there was a man who liked taking evening walks around his neighborhood. He particularly looked forward to walking past his neighbor’s house. This neighbor kept his lawn perfectly mowed, withblooming flowers and healthy, shady trees. It was obvious that the neighbor worked hard to have a beautiful lawn.
But one day as the man was walking past his neighbor’s house, he noticed in the middle of this beautiful lawn one enormous yellow dandelion weed. It looked so out of place that it surprised him. Why didn’t his neighbor pull it out? Couldn’t he see it? This dandelion bothered the man so much that he wanted to do something about it. Should he spray it with weed killer? Perhaps if he went at night, he could remove it secretly.
The man kept thinking about the dandelion as he walked toward his home. He walked into his house without even glancing at his own front yard—which was covered with hundreds of yellow dandelions!
approach: come to
teachable: ready to learn
I’m not sure why we are able to tell people how to fix their problems so well, while we often have difficulty seeing our own. But we need to see ourselves clearly. We must approach our Heavenly Father with teachable minds. We must be willing to learn and change. As we do so, God will lead us by the hand. We will “be made strong, and blessed from on high” (D&C 1:28).
Jesus Christ taught not to judge other people. He asked why we would pay attention to a small speck, or mote, that was in someone else’s eye if we had a large piece of wood, or beam, stuck in our own eye! Read what Jesus said below.
“Why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? … First cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother’s eye” (Matthew 7:3, 5).
Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, each of us can change for the better! Draw a line between the two pictures of the same child. How did that child choose to change?

Allyson Kitchen, 17, could see the stars now, overhead, their sparkle unchallenged by city haze or street lamps. She liked the way the fire created a haven of light in the vast darkness of the woods. And she noticed that although the campfire made shadows prance in the forest, here where it burned brightly there was no fear.
Like the others, Allyson found her mind filled with three days of memories. The time she’d spent with her friends had been important.
“They’re goofy and I love them and I’ll be going away to college soon.”
The service project had made her feel good. “We worked hard and we helped somebody,” she said to herself.
And she even felt closer to her leaders, just because she’d been around them.
“It’s fun to see the bishop in something besides a suit.”
But the memory that Allyson was really thinking about was the morning she had spent, alone on a hillside covered with wildflowers, reading the Book of Mormon and pleading with God to know of its truth.
She looked at the stars again, scattered across the sky, and remembered reading: “The scriptures are laid before thee, yea, and all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator” (Alma 30:44).
Allyson felt close to her Father in Heaven and to her Savior. And she took great comfort in the reassurance that they are near.

During his late teen years, Noel developed an addiction to alcohol. He eventually met and married my mother, Delbi, and they had four children. Through the years, his alcoholism took a toll on their marriage and after moving to San Francisco, California, USA, in their 50s, they separated. Unfortunately, he died by suicide a few years later.

My mother and I became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints a few years before my father passed away. Some years after his death, all the vicarious temple ordinances were performed in his behalf, except for one: the sealing ordinance. At the time, I did not dare ask my mother if she wanted to be sealed to him, because I knew how strained their relationship had been.

My parents, Noel and Delbi Blanco
Then a miracle happened. My mother had a dream in which she saw her husband, Noel, outside the kitchen door in their home in Managua, extending his hand to her and inviting her to come with him. She woke up with a sweet feeling in her heart. Not too long after that, she called me one day and calmly said, “I am going to be sealed to your father this Saturday. You can come if you want.”

I replied excitedly, “Of course, I want to be there!” After our phone conversation ended, I joyfully realized that I could also be sealed to them.

On a glorious Saturday morning, my mother, my husband, and I knelt at a sacred temple altar and performed the living and vicarious sealing ordinances that gave my parents and me the opportunity to be together forever. My son was also there as proxy for my brother, who had passed away years before. At that holy moment, all the pains and sorrows were forgotten. We all felt the soothing and healing balm that our Savior, Jesus Christ, offers us through His Atonement, on both sides of the veil.

Even though his young family lived in the city, President Hinckley’s father bought a farm out in East Millcreek. “My father believed that it was good for boys to learn to work when they were very young,” President Hinckley continued, “so on Saturdays in the early spring and in the fall, we would go out to the farm. And in the summer we would live there. I learned to live around animals and learned the lessons of nature—the beauty that is there and the penalties that come when nature is abused.

“We had large fruit orchards, and we learned how to prune trees. We built stilts that would put us about thirty inches off the ground, and then we could work up in the trees without ladders.

“In January, February, and March we pruned the trees, but we didn’t like it, because it was hard work. Yet we did learn something from it: You can determine the kind of fruit crop that you will have in September by the way you prune the trees in February. That was a great lesson, and it applies to people as well. You can pretty much determine the kind of adults you will have by the way you care for them as children.

Not long ago I listened at length to a couple who sat across the desk from me. There was bitterness between them. I know that at one time their love was deep and true. But each had developed a habit of speaking of the faults of the other. Unwilling to forgive the kind of mistakes we all make, and unwilling to forget them and live above them with forbearance, they had carped at one another until the love they once knew had been smothered. It had turned to ashes with the decree of a so-called no fault divorce. Now there is only loneliness and recrimination. I am satisfied that had there been even a small measure of repentance and forgiveness, they would still be together, enjoying the companionship that had so richly blessed their earlier years.

My angel mother, Jasmine Bennion Arnold, clearly understood her role to help in the rescue of our Heavenly Father’s wounded or lost sheep, including her own children and grandchildren. What a marvelous role grandparents can play in the lives of their grandchildren.

Mom was usually assigned to visit teach those struggling with their faith, the less-active and part-member families; however, her flock included several others that no one had assigned her to visit. Generally her visits were not just once a month, as she quietly listened, ministered to the sick, and gave loving encouragement. The last several months of Mom’s life, she was homebound, so she spent hours writing them letters, expressing her love, bearing her testimony, and lifting those who came to visit.

Getting up early on a Saturday morning to shingle roofs, paint houses, and mow lawns after being soaked in a mountain downpour the day before might deter some people, but not youth from the Alpine Utah Stake.
Nearly 400 youth and 100 leaders and adults joined forces on June 10, 2006, to work on a huge fix-up project as part of their stake’s three-day youth conference. The stake’s “Extreme Neighborhood Makeover” literally transformed a small neighborhood in Provo, Utah: 5 houses were reroofed, 15 were painted, and a few new lawns were put in. In all, 25 houses in the neighborhood had at least one type of repair performed.
“It’s a party,” “This is fabulous,” “It’s amazing,” and “I can’t believe how early they were here,” were some of the comments by residents as they watched the youth descend on their neighborhood with scrapers, paint, and ladders.
“It’s just been amazing to watch how hard these kids have worked,” said Joseph Nilson, stake president of the Alpine Utah Stake. “To me, you don’t have to go too far to find service opportunities, and it’s wonderful for them to get out and see their religion in action.”

Another example of his self-mastery was his determination to become a good penman. His penmanship was so bad that when two of his friends looked at it, one said, “That writing looks like hen tracks.” “No,” said the other, “it looks as if lightning has struck an ink bottle.” This, of course, touched young Heber Grant’s pride. While he was still in his teens as a policy clerk in the office of H. R. Mann and Co., “he was offered three times his salary to go to San Francisco as a penman. He later became a teacher of penmanship and bookkeeping at the University of [Utah]. In fact, with a specimen he had written before he turned seventeen, he took first prize in a territorial fair against four professional penmen.”

My family lived in São Paulo, Brazil. On the other side of our street, there was a forest of mangrove trees. Mangrove forests have rivers crossing through the trees. The ground is very muddy.
Many people built houses on that muddy ground. They put huge logs in the mud. Then they built their house on top of them. But when it rained, the river overflowed. The water got into their houses. Then the people had nowhere to sleep at night.
When that happened, my father would invite all of them into our home. Sometimes there were as many as 15 people! He brought them into our living room and gave them blankets. Mom made them something to eat. Then they slept in our house until the next day.
This happened at least three or four times. I remember thinking, Not very many people would take strangers in. My father was letting people we barely knew sleep in our house! But then I thought, They have nowhere else to go.
My parents always did things to help people. But their service was more than just helping and giving. It was showing love to our neighbor, even when our neighbor was somebody we didn’t know well.

It was a blistering 115 degrees F (46?C) outside, typical for a summer day out on the farm in Brawley, California. I kicked the tire of the huge water truck that had broken down for the third time in four days. I relied on my summer job to pay for entertainment, school clothes, and eventually college. Despite the heat, I hated having to cut a day’s work short, but it looked like I was going to have to do so again.
David, a member of our ward and a family friend, walked over from the mill to take a look at the truck. Venting my frustrations to him, I was tempted to say a word I had heard others use when they were annoyed. The moment before I actually said it, the thought crossed my mind that I shouldn’t because I knew it was a bad word. But in an instant, I brushed it off, thinking no one would ever find out. I said the word, but it didn’t make me feel any better.
Looking up, David told me he and Dad would fix the truck when they could. In the meantime, I found other work to do for the rest of the day.
Hopping into Dad’s truck at the end of the day, we began the drive home. Not too long after getting on the road, Dad looked over at me and mentioned that David had told him about my reaction to the truck breaking down, swear word and all. “David said he never expected to hear something like that come out of my daughter’s mouth,” Dad said. “He respects you too much, honey.”
I hung my head, and the tears came quickly. I had lowered myself in the eyes of people whose opinions I cared about. But most of all, I felt disappointed in myself and knew God did too. I realized that was why saying the word hadn’t made me feel any better.
I made a promise never to say that word again or anything else that would not please God, not because I didn’t want to make my dad and David ashamed of me but because it was the right thing to do. Integrity, I learned, is the way you act when you think no one is looking.

On the way to my new job, I started to worry.
What if I’m not good enough? I thought as I rode the bus. What if they think I can’t do a good job?
Then I had a clear feeling: Try your best. Even if it doesn’t go well, there’s somebody who loves you.
I thought about my husband. I knew he would love me even if my job didn’t go well. And then I thought about Jesus Christ. I knew that He would always love me. I could feel it in my heart. I said a simple prayer asking Heavenly Father to help me.
When I got to work, I did my best. When I made a mistake, I just kept trying. I remembered that someone still loved me.

“I beat you,” Ed said triumphantly as he pulled the last head of broomcorn on his row with a quick snap of his wrist. Then he set it upright on the ground, leaning it against the stalk.
“Just barely,” I replied. “I only have three more to do.”
“I can see Frank and Georgie coming too. We’re getting pretty fast. That’s eight rows apiece this morning. Jake’s the fastest boy I know, and he can only do nine.”
“He hires out, too, doesn’t he?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Why don’t we? We do good work and could use some money.”
“You’re right about that, but who’d hire us?”
“Lots of people.”
“I’m not so sure. We don’t stack the same as everyone else, so some people might not hire us.”
“Our way is best, though. Papa says if the brooms are piled standing up like we do it, any rain will run off without hurting them. But if they’re lying flat on the ground, the moisture doesn’t dry between them and they get moldy and rot.”
“Papa is right about lots of things that other folks don’t like to believe. They’ve been stacking corn the wrong way for a hundred years and wouldn’t change for anything.”
“Do you remember the time we had the late frost and Papa knew it was coming, so he didn’t plant early like everyone else did?” I asked.
“Yeah, I remember. Their crops froze and ours didn’t.”
“He tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“How does he know when it’s going to freeze?”
“I wish I knew. Maybe Heavenly Father tells him,” I suggested.
“Maybe so,” Ed agreed thoughtfully. “I can’t figure it out any other way.”
Frank and Georgie finished their rows, and we all started back to the house for lunch.
“How’d you guys like to earn some money?” Ed asked the boys.
“How?” Frank wanted to know.
“Pulling corn. We’re all getting pretty fast now.”
“I would,” Georgie said. “Then we could go to the circus.”
The circus! I hadn’t thought about that. I couldn’t believe it might be possible to go to the circus. My heart began pounding.
“Who could we work for?” Frank asked.
“How about Mr. Clarke?” Georgie suggested. “He’s always been real nice to us.”
“You’re right!” Ed exclaimed. “He’s just the one.”
“Let’s ask Papa when we get home,” I suggested.
“No, let’s see if we can get the job first and surprise him. Tomorrow, while Papa’s in town getting his wagon fixed, we can go over and see Mr. Clarke.”
“I want to see the lion tamer most,” Frank said.
“Not me,” Georgie countered. “I’m going to watch the clowns.”
I wanted to see the beautiful lady in the fancy dress, standing pointy-toed on the back of a running horse with her long hair flying behind her. I’d seen a circus poster at the Piggly Wiggly Market.
“C’mon, let’s hurry,” Ed said, and we ran the last few steps to the house.
The next day after Papa had left for town, five of us started out in the direction of our field. Helen had coaxed to come along too.
“Break her in easy,” Mama said. “When she gets tired send her home.”
At the end of the lane we turned off toward Clarke’s and arrived just as he was coming out from breakfast. When he saw us he said, “Well, now, what can I do for you folks?”
“We wondered if you needed someone to pull your corn,” Ed said.
“Think you could do it? None of you is very big.”
“But we can work hard,” Frank insisted.
“And fast,” Georgie added.
“And we pile it the good way,” I said.
“How’s that?” Mr. Clarke wanted to know.
“Standing up,” Ed said and explained why that was best.
Mr. Clarke nodded. “Makes sense, all right.”
“Try us out,” Ed bargained. “We’ll work till noon, and if you’re not satisfied, you don’t have to pay us. We don’t charge for Helen. She’s just learning.”
“Fair enough,” Mr. Clarke said and led us to the field he wanted us to start on.
When Papa came home that night, Ed pulled our wages from his pocket and put them on the table.
“Where’d you get that money?” Papa asked.
“Working for Mr. Clarke,” Ed replied.
“Pulling corn?” asked Papa.
“Yep. He wants us back tomorrow. He’s paying us twenty cents a row.”
“How many of you went?” Papa wanted to know.
“Me, Dora, Georgie, Frank, and Helen,” Ed replied.
“Helen, too?”
“She helped some.”
“But my arms got tired and Ed let me come home,” Helen explained.
Papa reached down to give her a hug. “Good girl,” he said. “I’m proud of all of you. Go ahead and help Mr. Clarke. I can finish our crop. We’ll all have to work fast to get done before the storm gets here.”
“What storm?” Ed asked.
“The one that’s coming before too long.”
“How can you tell?” I wanted to know.
“I can just feel it,” Papa answered.
The golden harvest weather held all week, and we worked from dawn until dark every day. By Friday night the flat corn heads were all pulled and stacked in the fields. Mama had been cooking all day for a picnic, and we could hardly wait for morning to come.
Before daylight, Papa climbed the ladder to our barn loft. “You’d all better get up,” he said. “I need lots of help today.”
“But you promised we could have a picnic, Papa.”
“Can’t help it,” Papa said. “We’ve got to get the corn in. A humdinger of a storm is on the way. Dora, I want you to come with me to warn the neighbors. Ed, you go hitch up the wagon and take Frank and George over to Clarke’s. Use his wagon, too, and after his crop is in come back and start on ours.”
There was a tone in Papa’s voice I’d never heard before. It sent shivers down my back. I dressed as fast as I could and hurried the boys along. We gulped down the breakfast Mama had waiting and flew out the door just as the sun peeked over the sand hills.
“There’re no clouds, Papa,” Ed said.
“They’re coming,” Papa declared. “Now get going!”
The boys ran toward the barn. I jumped on the horse that was waiting for me, and Papa and I rode off to warn the neighbors that a big storm was on the way.
“You’re crazy,” Mr. Cooper told Papa. “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”
“Not yet,” Papa said, “but there will be.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Mr. Cooper said and closed the door. We jumped on our horses and rode to Mr. Younger’s store. He could help us spread the word.
“Doesn’t look to me like any storm is coming,” he drawled as he gazed up at the cloudless sky.
“You’re right,” Papa agreed. “But mark my word, it’ll be here before nightfall, and it’s a big one.”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
And this was the answer everywhere we went. Papa finally decided that it wasn’t any use to warn the people, so we went on home to help the boys. “The price of corn will be sky-high this year,” he said, “and we can’t afford to leave it in the field.”
We worked like demons and were piling on the last wagonload when the wind came up and nearly tipped it over.
“Head for home!” Papa shouted.
We all jumped on the wagon and by the time we pulled into the barn, hail was peppering the ground and beating everything flat. It was the worst storm I can remember. Some of the hailstones were the size of eggs. What the hail didn’t flatten the wind did. The broomcorn crop was a total loss that year except for the few fields that were brought in as a result of our warning.
Papa was right about the price. We made a big profit that year, and the other farmers were sorry they hadn’t listened to him.

I am reminded of a highly successful business executive in Salt Lake City who served as a counselor in his ward bishopric while at the same time earning his master’s degree. During the hectic period preceding finals, the bishop asked him, “Lynn, I know you are facing a crisis in your schooling. Let us relieve you of your meeting schedule and some of the details of your assignments during the next two weeks.” Lynn answered, “Bishop, I would ask that rather than relieving me of responsibility, let me assume additional duties. I want to go to the Lord and ask his help by right, not by grace.” He never slackened. He graduated among the highest in his class.

My father was our bishop, but he died before I received the priesthood. I remember so clearly being ordained a deacon. A new world opened up for me. I was now living on a higher plane. As I would hear people say, “You hold the priesthood,” it was not easy to fully comprehend. But with humble teachers, we began to understand that as deacons we had been given blessings and authority to do sacred things.
As quorum officers we accounted for all of our members and would see that they were all at church. We enjoyed being together. We chopped wood for the elderly and the widows, filled the coal bins at church, cleaned the meetinghouse every Saturday afternoon, swept the steps, raked the gravel yard, saw that the sacrament trays and lace sacrament cloths were clean and fresh, and had real pride in the appearance of our little meetinghouse.
We were part of the Church and the Church was part of us. We knew it; we felt it! We held the priesthood of God! Understanding teachers guided us and helped us broaden our vision and our ever-expanding role as young men; but more important, they helped prepare us to be called in our youth to be servants of our Savior. He needs every one of you young men who hold the priesthood. I testify that this work is true. I do it humbly, in the holy name of Jesus Christ, amen.

My wife, Joan, and I have had the privilege of living in various parts of the world among wonderful people who rely daily on the Lord for their most basic temporal needs. Those who take the leap of faith to pay their tithing testify that the windows of heaven are opened to them. I remember a faithful father in the Philippines telling of paying his meager tithing to the bishop one Sunday and then leading his children home from church, knowing full well that there was no food for them. As they were walking along, a huge breadfruit dropped from a tree right in front of them. He immediately looked up and thanked God for opening the windows of heaven and sending him a breadfruit to feed his children.

Kevin watched as his older brother and sister got ready to go to the temple to do baptisms for the dead. Kevin wanted to go too.
Dad, can I go?
You’re not old enough yet, but I’m glad that you want to go. When you turn 12, you can go too.
Kevin helped his sister pack her bag. Then he helped his brother pick out a tie.
They left, and Kevin stayed home with Mom and his baby sister, Erin.
When Erin cried, Kevin gave her a teddy bear.
I know Heavenly Father is happy with the way you are serving Him today.
But I didn’t go to the temple.
Yes, but you helped your brother and sister get ready. And you are helping me take care of Erin.
When you help other people, you serve Heavenly Father.

When two missionaries knocked on the door of Judy Marie’s home in 1996, they found a humble family, ready to listen to the gospel. “The missionaries spoke about the gospel, the Prophet Joseph Smith, and the Book of Mormon,” she says. Although Judy Marie; her mother; her brother Javier, age 13; and her sister, Marie Carida, age 12, heard the discussions and accepted the gospel together, Judy Marie’s own conversion was a deeply personal experience. “When I prayed, Heavenly Father gave me answers,” she says. “It was very beautiful, and I felt the Spirit very strongly.”
Judy Marie compares the story of the tree of life in 1 Nephi 8 [1 Ne. 8] to her own conversion. “When the missionaries taught us about the gospel, they showed us the fruit and brought us out of the darkness,” she says. “I remember when Elder Joshua Carter baptized me and Elder Joshua Smith confirmed me. I felt I was born again, mentally and spiritually. I know I am a daughter of God.”