Gospel Story Finder

For one family home evening, my dad wanted to take advantage of a pause in the rainy weather to go on a walk around the neighborhood. I grumbled and complained that it was too wet and muddy to go walking. I used the excuse that I had a ballet recital that week and didn’t want to sprain an ankle, but my dad didn’t buy it. He insisted that it was going to be the activity for the evening. I murmured a bit more about the unfairness and my recital, but we left on the walk anyway.
As I glumly stomped outside for the walk with my family, I was determined not to smile or be happy. I succeeded in feeling miserable until we reached the end of the street. Then we turned the corner and I saw, in full force, nature’s beauty and wonder. Before me was a gorgeous sunset, and opposite it was a rainbow arching above our neighborhood rooftops. I immediately forgot all about being miserable and looked around in awe.
On the way home I said a prayer of gratitude, thanking God for the beauty of His creations. I later thanked my dad for choosing the activity and for allowing us to enjoy nature for that family home evening.

“I had a chance for a job at the beginning of the summer,” said one of the girls sitting on the grass at the main camp. She paused as the squeals from the canoe races drifted up from the waterfront. “I told them that if I couldn’t come to camp, I didn’t want the job. That’s what it means to me.”
Had it been worth it, you might be tempted to ask, and the answer, not from one voice but from 620, is a resounding yes!

At school on Monday, Kevin saw Jon Dunford in the halls. Jon lived in their ward but didn’t come anymore. He’d gotten into drugs in the seventh grade and a few months later was arrested. He spent six months in a juvenile correction facility and then came back to live at home. Kevin had seen him the first day after he got back. “I’m going to start back to church,” Jon had said.
“Right,” Kevin had replied sarcastically.
Jon came to church once but never returned. Eventually he went back to his old friends. Kevin figured it was only a matter of time before Jon would be put away again.
Kevin decided to talk to Jon.
“Jon, that time you came to church after you first got back, what was it like for you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I just want to know.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you,” said Jon, an edge in his voice. “A lot of cold stares, a lot of whispering behind my back, and nobody my age talking to me. A lot of the adults said they were glad I was back, but nobody my age did. Not even you.”
Kevin swallowed hard. “Sorry.”
“When I first came back, I really wanted to change my life,” he sighed. “But it’s too late for that now.”
“Give us another chance,” said Kevin. “Come to church with me next time. I’ll do better.”
Jon looked at Kevin for a long time. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Maybe sometime,” Jon said, starting to walk away.
“What about tomorrow night? We’re going to a TV studio to see how they do the news.”
Jon pursed his lips. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe I’ll go.”
The next day before school Kevin found Jon in the parking lot behind the school with the guys he partied with. “Is tonight still okay?”
Jon smiled. “I’ve never seen you out here before.”
“What about tonight? We could pick you up a little before seven.”
“That’d be okay.”
When they stopped by later that night, Jon wasn’t home, but Kevin wasn’t discouraged. He’d just have to keep asking until Jon gave in and went with him.

White Station High School’s Allison Bray, who has had a lot of practice answering questions, says, “It’s really hard to talk to them. Sometimes they’ll ask a question, but they don’t really want to know what I have to say,” she says. “I’ll stop and pray for help. And if I don’t know how to answer, I’ll go home and ask someone, read about it, or look it up in my scriptures and get back to them.”

In March 1939 the German army swiftly occupied Czechoslovakia. Regular missionary activity again ceased. In May, as the Prague Branch was meeting to celebrate Mother’s Day, a young German officer entered the room. The congregation froze, expecting the worst. But the officer explained that he was a member of the Church and had come to worship. He bore his testimony—not to enemies of his country, but to friends of his religion.

My dad, my brother, and I were hired to clean an apartment. While we were cleaning, I found a video game. I was excited because I had just gotten a new video game player. I took the game home with me. Later that night my dad’s friend came over, and I told him about the game I found. He warned me that it showed bad pictures. I got the game, broke it in half, and threw it away because President Gordon B. Hinckley has told us not to listen to or watch these things. I felt the Holy Ghost, and I knew I had done the right thing.

This experience is familiar to those who have been involved in translating the scriptures from English into other languages. It happens over and over:
A young Armenian holding a copy of the Book of Mormon only recently translated into his language approaches a member of the team who assisted with the translating: “Thank you,” he says. “I have read the Book of Mormon in English. I have read the Book of Mormon in Russian. I have read it in Ukrainian. But until I was able to read it in Armenian, I did not truly understand it. When I read it in Armenian, it finally made sense. It was like coming home.”

It started just a little over two years ago. Jason Hardman was ten then, and it was summer. The tulips along the main street of Elsinore, Utah, were only a bright blur of color to Jason as he streaked by them on his bike. He slowed and turned the corner at the post office and then, passing the Cash Store, he started pedaling even faster, moving up toward the town hall. He didn’t want to be late. The sidewalk ended, and he turned his bike onto the deserted street.
It was late in the day. The town was quiet. Nighthawks were sweeping the warm air above the streets for bugs. Jason rode his bike through the long-flung shadows into pools of light so bright and liquid he half expected to splash through them.
As in most small towns there is a kind of quiet eloquence to summer evenings in Elsinore. It’s a good place to be in summer. Just south of town in the thickets of mulberry bushes and Russian olives there are quail, pheasants, jackrabbits, and coyotes. In town there is a ball park, two rock shops, the Eat at Steve’s and Get Gas service station and cafe, and the Cash Store; but two years ago there was no library.
There was no place to check out books telling of pirate Long John Silver and his treasure or of the terrible Captain Ahab’s relentless pursuit of Moby Dick across wild seas. After you’d read all the good books you had at home, there was no place close by to get books to read late at night under warm and safe covers, solving the mysteries of Sherlock Holmes or Agatha Christie. Agatha Christie mysteries were Jason’s favorite.
The mayor leaned back in his chair. The other members of Elsinore’s town council were smiling as Jason stood in front of them.
“We need a library,” Jason said.
“Nope, not enough money.”
“No place to put it.”
“No one to run it.”
Jason told them they could put the library in one of the unused rooms in the town hall and that it wouldn’t cost much money. They could get people to donate the books. He also told them he would run it. They turned him down again, thinking he would just give up. They didn’t know Jason.
“I knew I could do it. I could get a library started,” Jason says. “I wasn’t about to give up.”
For months he kept asking and the mayor and council kept saying no, but finally either the mayor and the city council wore down or they became convinced Jason could get a library started. They gave him permission to use a room in the basement of the town hall. They offered him no money or assistance. If there was going to be a library, it would be up to Jason.
“Maybe he will look at the room we gave him and give up.”
The city hall was in a restored grade school and the basement was in bad shape. Jason, his family, and several friends had to scrub the floor with wire brushes. The walls and ceilings had to be thoroughly cleaned. Lights had to be found. Shelves had to be built.
“I couldn’t have done it without my family,” says Jason. “I couldn’t have built the bookshelves without my father’s help. I can’t run a power saw.”
After hundreds of hours of work, the room was ready. Now the library needed books.
“You can tackle almost any project you want to,” Jason says. “You just let your imagination go, and then you do it. No matter what happens, do not give up.”
Jason started looking for books. He went from door to door asking friends and neighbors if they had any old books they didn’t need. If it was too far for him to walk he called on the phone. Over 2,000 books were donated. The library opened.
That was when Jason almost gave up.
“I got very discouraged,” he recalls. “My hours were six to nine, and no one was coming in.”
It was winter then, and he didn’t need the library to get books for himself. He could check out books from his school library. He went to school in another town five miles from Elsinore.
“I wanted to quit, but my parents wouldn’t let me,” Jason says. “They said, ‘you started it; you stick with it.’ So I did. I spent a lot of time alone in there.”
Jason let his imagination go again. He knew if his library was to succeed he had to get more books, good books, books people would want to read. He called and wrote to anyone he could think of that might help. A few more books came in, but not enough. He wrote to politicians, to publishers, and even to other libraries.
Then a small newspaper in a neighboring town, the Richfield Reaper, ran an article about Jason and his library. The story was printed in the Salt Lake Tribune, and it was then picked up by the Associated Press. Jason became national news. Everyone wanted to know about the youngest librarian in the country. Articles about Jason and his library were published in dozens of national magazines. When he received a call from a man asking him if he wanted to appear on Johnny Carson’s “Tonight Show” he said, “Who is this really?”
Jason told his story on the “Tonight Show” and on several other television shows. He was also asked to testify before a congressional hearing on rural libraries. He told them of the need for libraries and of the problems he had getting his started. The committee members promised to help Jason in any way they could.
People from all over the country began donating books. Jason received up to a hundred books in one day for his library. With the publicity and the new books, more people are coming into Jason’s library. It has become quite a popular place.
What now?
Jason is sorting and indexing his books, writing thank-you notes to donors, and making plans to improve the library. He talks about getting a computer, better shelves, improving the genealogical section, building a ramp (it’s hard for older people to walk down the stairs), and even of a new building for the library.
A new building?
That’s a big project for a 12-year-old, but who knows, even the Elsinore town council takes Jason seriously now when he starts talking about wanting to do something.

Last year my family moved from Utah to Oklahoma. On our first Sunday at church, I didn’t know anyone, and everything seemed strange. Even the building seemed strange because we met in the public library while a chapel was being built. At first I felt scared and out of place in Primary. I wondered if I’d ever belong. Then a good thing happened. Primary started with a song I had often sung in my old Primary. I felt a happy feeling inside, and I didn’t feel strange or different anymore. I sang the familiar words louder than usual. Some things might be different, but the songs were the same. They gave me comfort and helped me feel at home. I am grateful for Primary songs.Preston C., age 11, Oklahoma

Dr. Frankenstein decides to combine a five-foot lizard with a flesh-eating fish to create a truly heinous creature.
The ________________________ _______________________

Recently the Young Women of the Leavenworth Second Ward in Kansas came up with a super service activity. They decided to make children-size quilts to donate to Humanitarian Services. The girls spent several nights working on their quilts. They learned to cut fabric and batting, how to pin them together, how to stitch around the perimeter, and finally how to finish it off using a quilting machine.
Hannah Fowles, a Beehive, said, “I learned how much fun it can be to help other people. Not only did I learn to quilt, but it was spiritual and beneficial as well as being fun.”

These missionaries were joined by future Church President Wilford Woodruff in 1835, who preached to 500 people at a tavern. During the next three months, Elder Woodruff and his companion baptized 20 converts. By year’s end, Elder Woodruff had traveled 3,248 miles, baptized 43 people (three of whom were Campbellite preachers), and had three mobs rise against him.

Morrisville First Ward
The Primary children in the Morrisville First Ward, Philadelphia Pennsylvania Stake, built a “Protective Wall of Zion.” Each week, the children took home paper “bricks” and marked the days their family held family home evening, prayed together, and studied the scriptures. The completed bricks were added to the wall.

Matthew is not the only one who has to explain his religion to friends. Nate Livsey has started carrying a Book of Mormon and pass-along cards in his backpack. He has had a lot of experiences lately talking to friends about the scriptures and giving them pass-along cards. “I used to be scared. But that’s not what it’s all about. Even if they go home and laugh at my cards or scriptures, I still have to share it with them.”

A sister from the Abura 2nd Ward in the Cape Coast Ghana Stake stated, “As the meeting began, I felt so good and excited! The presence of the Spirit was so strong, and I was quite emotional throughout! . . . I literally felt the love Sisters Eubank and Harkness had for every one of us. In fact, I heard the Savior through them.”

When Russell got home from his mission he was excited to get a cell phone. He had used one before but without the games, cameras, and text messaging capabilities. On one of the first weekends after his return, he was asked to help out at a neighborhood garage sale. As people wandered among the various items spread out on the lawn, Russell played with his new cell phone and began texting a friend about how much he missed his mission. Suddenly, he noticed a lady who appeared a little confused as she looked at several of the items. He put his cell phone away and approached her. He soon discovered she was new in the area and spoke Spanish but little English. Having served in Spain, he delighted her by speaking Spanish. Before long, he had not only helped her pick out a few items, but he had also taken her name and address with the intent of sending the missionaries.
Russell says, “Here I was texting my friend about how much I missed my mission, and I almost let a missionary opportunity pass me by. When I put the cell phone away, I actually ended up getting a missionary referral. I was happy to have my new cell phone, and texting my friend was fun, but nothing made me happier than getting this referral for the missionaries.”

Remember that you are in this partnership together. Barbara and I have discovered that we can make our bed every morning in less than a minute and it’s done for the day. She says that she lets me do it to help me feel good about myself all day, and I guess there may be something to that.

Elder Chris Cole, Elder Aaron Romrell, Elder Lyle Roberts
We didn’t have a Christmas tree, but we did have a tree stand, a string of lights, and a few ornaments. So we took a broom and turned it upside down to make branches for the ornaments. Creating our “tree” built unity in our companionship. Plus is was a lot of fun.

More than fifty years ago, during World War II, our bomber crew was ordered to the West Coast. We were transported on a freight train. There were no dining cars. Instead, camp kitchens were set up in boxcars with dirt floors.
The baggage car got sidetracked, so we had no change of clothing during the six-day trip. It was very hot crossing Texas and Arizona. Smoke and cinders from the engine made it very uncomfortable. There was no way to wash our uniforms or bathe. We rolled into Los Angeles one morning, a grubby-looking outfit.
We thought first of food. The ten of us in our crew pooled our money and headed for the best restaurant we could find. It was crowded, so we joined a long line waiting to be seated. I was first, just behind a stately, well-dressed woman. She turned and looked me over from head to toe. There I stood in that sweaty, dirty, sooty, wrinkled uniform. She said in a tone of disgust, “My, what untidy men!” All eyes turned to us. I felt dirty, uncomfortable, and ashamed.

Sugar Rush
I taught my Scout troop first aid for diabetes. For example, if I don’t feel well, I need to drink juice. I even showed them how to give me a special shot if I faint! Afterward we played a diabetes trivia game.