Gospel Story Finder

I appreciated the article by Elder Christofferson in the June 2006 issue of the New Era (“A Sense of the Sacred”). My husband and I are serving a mission in Accra, Ghana, and each Sunday we visit a different ward. We have been impressed that the men and boys come to Sunday meetings dressed in white shirts and ties, and the women and girls come in clean, modest dresses. It is obvious that their clothing is the best they have. Likewise, when they come to the temple, they are dressed in their Sunday best. We marvel at their humility and their desire to show respect to our Father in Heaven by dressing appropriately when they enter His holy house—whether it is the meetinghouse or the temple.Sister Carolyn W., Ghana

A young woman named Marie held up the Bible to protect the missionaries from an angry mob who wanted to hurt them.

It is November and cold outside. I can hear the wind whistling through the trees down in the woods. I am sitting in front of my fireplace in my old leather-back chair with Mother’s old knitted shawl over my lap. There is a little table by my side, and I am writing on a lined tablet. The lines are wide because my eyesight is not as good as it once was. The dancing flames from the fire seem to stimulate my thoughts, and I relive the years when my beloved wife and I first joined the Church. The wind was blowing off the ocean when we waded into the water off the coast of Wales. Bess’s health was poor, she being with child, and she was concerned about the effects of the cold water on her and the unborn baby. The presiding elder blessed her that all would be well, that there would be no bad effects from the cold water. It turned out that way. There are other places in my history where I have told of the persecutions we endured, but now I must tell you about my three sons.

“I baptized one of my best friends into the Church. At school about twelve of us members play volleyball together, and we’re always happy and outgoing. My friend wanted to play with us and then started going to our meetings, too. He joined the Church, and now he’s trying to get his family to join.”
—Ominai Aiono, Jr.

In my case it was my service as a missionary. For 19 years I had enjoyed Christmas surrounded by family and friends. I suppose in my youthful self-centeredness I had never considered spending it any other way.

Then, as the Yule season approached in 1960, I found myself half a world away from all that. I had been in England less than three months when, on the first of December, I was summoned to the mission office to meet Elder Eldon Smith, newly arrived from Champion, Alberta, Canada—my first junior companion. We were sent to open missionary work in the conservative city of Guildford, in the county of Surrey, an area that had never had Latter-day Saint missionaries and, to our knowledge, had only one member hidden somewhere within its boundaries. We were young, inexperienced, and a bit overwhelmed, but we were not fainthearted.

We registered with the police, arranged for lodging, and, initially unable to locate our lone member of the Church, threw ourselves into the only thing we knew to do—knock on doors. We knocked on doors in the morning, we knocked on doors at midday, we knocked on doors in the afternoon, and we knocked on doors at night. We rode our bicycles through those streets in what must have been the rainiest British December in history—or so it seemed to us. We were wet in the morning, we were wet at midday, we were wet in the afternoon, and we were wet at night, but we kept knocking on doors. And we got in almost none of them.

So it went until Christmas Eve, when people were even less inclined to hear a couple of missionaries “from the colonies.” That evening, weary but devoted, we retired to our one-room rental and had a Christmas devotional. We sang a Christmas hymn and then offered an invocation. We read from the scriptures and listened to a tape recording titled The True Story of Christmas. Then we sang another hymn of the season, said a closing prayer, and went to bed. We were too tired to have visions of sugarplums dance in our heads.

On Christmas morning we kept our morning study schedule and opened the two or three packages that had caught up with us following our transfer. Then we went out to knock on doors. We knocked in the morning, we knocked at midday, we knocked in the afternoon, and we knocked at night. We didn’t get in any of them.

For such an uneventful Christmas—clearly the least festive of any I ever had before or since—it says something that those special days in December of 1960 remain in my heart (after more than 50 years!) as one of the sweetest Christmases I have ever had. I think that is because for the first time in my life, I found myself understanding Christmas rather than just enjoying it. I think for the first time in any truly significant way, I was getting the message of Christ’s birth and life—His message and His mission and His sacrifice for others.

I should have made that connection at an earlier age, but I hadn’t—at least not strongly enough. But that Christmas in England—as a cold, wet, somewhat overwhelmed 19-year-old—I “got it.” I can truly say that because of my mission, Christmas, like so many other aspects of the gospel, has meant more to me every year since that experience.

They aren’t great basketball players, but they are determined, I thought as I watched the opposing team run up and down the court.
They were younger, less experienced, and shorter than our basketball team, but they kept on trying, even when it was clear that they didn’t have a chance of winning.
Randy, a boy with sandy-blond hair, played like he didn’t know what the score was. Although he rarely had possession of the ball, he chased it up and down the court like the whole game depended on him.
When his teammates did pass him the ball, he would carry it four steps, stop, bounce it, and pass it to another player. But the referees didn’t call traveling, and no one complained. Randy, who is mentally handicapped, was doing his best.
With seconds left on the clock, he got the ball and his teammates yelled for him to shoot. Concentrating so hard that his tongue hung out of his mouth, he shot—and missed. One of our players rebounded the ball, hesitated, and then tossed the ball to Randy.
“Shoot the ball!” our player yelled, and members of both teams joined in the cheer.
The ball went up, hit the rim, and bounced off. Again, Randy was given the ball, and again he missed. Time had run out, but the buzzer didn’t sound, and the referees stayed at half court. Everyone yelled for him to try again. This time the ball arched and swished the net, and the last two points of the game belonged to Randy.
The crowd went wild and the members of both teams surrounded Randy to congratulate him. He jumped up and down like he’d won the game. And I realized that he had.
And so had every player in that game. They had been true sportsmen: fair and generous. That night no one went home feeling angry or disappointed. There was no bragging or teasing—only fun, good feelings, and winners.

Now finally, just one more thought. President Smith’s talk tonight has impressed something else. I heard someone say something that I have learned is an absolute fact. When I sat in as a younger member of the Council of the Twelve, the first Church reorganization I was permitted to participate in was when President Grant passed away. As we met in the temple for a long discussion, as is the usual custom before the votes are taken and the decisions reached as to the selecting of the president of the Church, I was thinking there had been some rumors as to who might be the counselors and who might not be the counselors, as is always the gossip that attends such reorganizations. But as the president named his counselors and they took their places at the head of the room, down inside me I had a witness that these were the men that the Lord wanted to be the presidency of the Church. It came to me with a conviction that was as though that truth was being trumpeted in my ears.

Following his RAF service, Elder Kearon’s father went to work as a defense contractor in Saudi Arabia. Patrick, as a seven-year-old boy, learned an important lesson there in obedience, memorably recounted in his first general conference talk as a General Authority. Ignoring his parents’ instructions to wear shoes during a desert camping trip, he went exploring in “flip-flops” and suffered a scorpion sting in the arch of his foot.

Whenever mother stirs a cake
I’m there to watch her make it.
I wash the spoons and pans for her
And then I help her bake it.
The smells of flavors are so nice,
I think they should be tasted.
I scrape the bowls, for I am sure
The drops should not be wasted.
When I clean out the frosting bowl
I’m happy as can be.
It tastes so good, and I don’t care
How much I get on me.
I’m always glad when mother bakes,
And so I wish and wish
That she would make my fav’rite cake
So I can scrape the dish!

The fathers fell, weeping,
and mothers turned stone-cold faces
to the wind,
too weary to cry.
As I watched those broken people
I heard my mother say,
Go and bring them in.
Would she turn away if I returned
with empty arms?
Gently, then, I gathered up a child
and waded into waters
so cold and sharp
that my muscles clenched
and tears froze on my face
each time I crossed
the aching, icy river.
Hour after hour,
numbly plodding on, I saw my mother
in each stranger’s face.
And when they were all across
they wrapped me in my mother’s quilt
and sang the quiet songs
of heaven, and so cold and numb—
I slept.
And dreamed that I awoke
in Mother’s arms
and angels seemed to shout Hosanna!
And Father wept to have me
home again.

Amanda Siler of Inkom, Idaho, sat in Sunday School with the other girls in her Mia Maid class—they were all writing down their goals. Amanda wrote, “To walk with my walker.” You see, when Amanda was seven, she developed a neurological disorder that affected her balance and caused her to lose all of her muscle strength and some of her motor control. Through the years, Amanda has worked hard to strengthen her body, and although life continues to be a struggle for her, she is always smiling.
The Young Women and their leaders saw Amanda’s goal, and after a lot of research and inspiration, they found a way to help their friend. They secretly ordered Amanda a special three-wheeled bike she would be able to ride on her own.
Last September the ward held a family activity night at a local park. Unaware of the surprise, Amanda and her family were asked to sit facing the group of Young Women. They sang her a song and then presented Amanda with a huge card that read, “Because We Love You.” The card had signatures from everyone in the ward and community who helped purchase the bicycle. Amanda’s friends helped lift her out of her wheelchair and placed her in the seat of the bike. There were many tearful eyes as Amanda rode more than half a mile that evening—with loving friends by her side.

President J. Scott Dorius of the Peru Lima West Mission told me their story. He said:
“Becky and I were married for 25 years without being able to have [or adopt] children. We moved several times. Introducing ourselves in each new setting was awkward and sometimes painful. Ward members wondered why we [didn’t have] children. They weren’t the only ones wondering.
“When I was called as a bishop, ward members [expressed] concern that I did not have any experience with children and teenagers. I thanked them for their sustaining vote and asked them to allow me to practice my child-raising skills on their children. They lovingly obliged.
“We waited, gained perspective, and learned patience. After 25 years of marriage, a miracle baby came into our lives. We adopted two-year-old Nicole and then newborn Nikolai. Strangers now compliment us on our beautiful grandchildren. We laugh and say, ‘They are our children. We have lived our lives backwards.’”18

This would be a fine place to end Kim and Neil’s story, but there’s more. The Kereszti’s son, Zsolt, was the only LDS single adult in Hungary, so Dr. Davis invited him to come to Salt Lake City and live with his family for a while. Since Zsolt had medical training, he could help Dr. Davis with his laser research.
So now the Davis’s missionary efforts resulted in a new big brother for the family. What’s it like to suddenly have a friend from Hungary move in?
“I remember the first day he came,” says Kim. “We couldn’t even pronounce his name. But since then, we’ve become really close. I go to early-morning seminary, and he takes me. He’s come to our school and spoken, he’s cooked us Hungarian dinners, he’s taught us a little of the Hungarian language, and we’ve done a lot of other special things together.”
“I was kind of shy at first,” says Neil, who was the oldest son in the house when Zsolt arrived. “We’d go out and play racquetball and Ping-Pong, and we all got used to each other. For coming from a family where he was the only child, he’s very patient with us.”
As for Zsolt, he was delighted to be accepted straight into the heart of a strong LDS family. He’s fascinated by their unity, by family prayer, scripture study, and home evening, and he’s amazed at their support of each other. The Davises are a musical family and play their various instruments together often. They’re also an athletic family and always attend each other’s games and meets.
“I’ve learned that I tremendously enjoy a big family,” Zsolt says. “It’s very educational for me to watch and learn how they handle everything. They set goals and motivate each other. I would like to have a family like this someday.”

But that was not the only exceptional experience Daniel had in connection with the translation. He says:
“When the printing started, Brother Brigham told me that he would hold me responsible for its correctness. This worried me so much that I asked the Lord to in some way show me any mistakes [as we proofread the printed sheets].
“Brother Trejo’s manuscript was written in modern language style. When I called his attention to errors he invariably agreed with me. He often remarked that I was a close critic and understood Spanish better than he did. I did not like to tell him how I discerned the mistakes.
“I felt a sensation in the center of my forehead as though there was a fine thread being pulled smoothly out. When there was a mistake, the smoothness would be interrupted as though a small knot was passing out through the forehead. Whether I saw the mistake or not I was so sure it was there that I would show it to my companion and ask him to correct it. When this was done we continued on until the same thing happened again.”

Blake and Ellie C. weren’t there when the Nauvoo Illinois Temple was built. They also weren’t there when the first Book of Mormon was published or when the Salt Lake Tabernacle was finished. However, when this brother and sister from Layton, Utah, visited the Church History Museum in Salt Lake City, they learned that they could still feel the same spirit felt by those who were there.
Blake and Ellie started their tour by looking at a stained-glass triptych that depicts the appearance of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove. The triptych is at the beginning of the museum exhibit for a good reason. Without the First Vision, there would be no Church history.
In Nauvoo, the Lord commanded the Saints to build a temple. The Nauvoo Temple was decorated with several sunstones on its exterior. At the museum, Blake and Ellie saw a copy of an original sunstone.

Mariana Fernandez de Bittencourt of the Lopez Ward, Buenos Aires Argentina North Stake, has received national recognition for her talent.
Mariana was selected as one of ten pianists under the age of 16 to represent Argentina in a 160-nation Artist Convention of Youth in Bulgaria. Along with her Young Women activities and school, Mariana is busy preparing three numbers for the convention, one classical, one traditional, and the third, quite naturally, a tango.

Following the opening prayer, we were introduced to Brother Corbridge of the stake high council. Brother Corbridge told us that he and his family had just returned from a wonderful vacation trip that included a visit to the Church historical sites, the Hill Cumorah and the Sacred Grove near Palmyra, New York. Then he told us in great detail of his family’s experience while in the Sacred Grove. An unmistakable manifestation of the Spirit had come to them to confirm without a doubt the truth of what had happened there on that early spring morning of 1820 when God the Father and the Savior appeared to Joseph Smith.

President Boyd K. Packer
President Packer invites a young man’s father to ordain his son an elder.

When I turned eight, my grandparents and many friends came to my baptism. My father baptized and confirmed me. Later I donated 12 inches (30 cm) of my hair to a child with cancer. My birthday made me very happy!
Lavona R., age 8, Indonesia

“Being a Witness for God,” p. F15: Elder Henry B. Eyring tells of friends who reject the missionaries but later thank Elder Eyring for offering them something that means so much to him. Ask family members how this story might help them overcome a fear of inviting friends to learn more about the Church.