Gospel Story Finder

Seemingly little lessons of love are observed by children as they silently absorb the examples of their parents. My own father, a printer, worked long and hard to support our family. And yet, following church on Sunday, he often visited elderly family members and brought cheer into their lives.
One was his uncle, who was crippled by arthritis so severe that he could not walk or care for himself. On a Sunday afternoon Dad would say to me, “Come along, Tommy; let’s take Uncle Elias for a short drive.” Climbing into the old 1928 Oldsmobile, we would proceed to Eighth West, where, at the home of Uncle Elias, I would wait in the car while Dad went inside. Soon he would emerge from the house, carrying in his arms like a china doll his crippled uncle. I then would open the door and watch how tenderly and with such affection my father would place Uncle Elias in the front seat so he would have a fine view while I occupied the rear seat. The drive was brief and the conversation limited, but oh, what a legacy of service and of love!

High wind warnings for northern Utah were making a lot of people nervous, but not Matt Hansen, 17, and his dad Barry. To them, it sounded like perfect weather. They shared a love of windsurfing, and the news that high winds were coming was like music to their ears.
“When a windsurfer hears that the wind is going to be blowing hard, that’s when you drop everything and go. In Utah, the wind rarely blows over 40 miles per hour. So when we heard the wind would be blowing, we packed up and went.”
Barry called his brother Drew, and they made plans to go to Utah Lake. Barry also took his two daughters, Nicole and Natalie, because they liked to play on the beach.
When they arrived at the lake, it was disappointing. “We got there and the water was almost glassy,” said Matt. “I wasn’t even going to rig up my sail or put on my wetsuit.”
Barry decided to go out because he is not quite as good a windsurfer as his son and his brother. He has fun with the winds blowing between 10 and 15 mph. “It finally started blowing hard enough for Matt. He’s quite a bit better than I am, so he likes to be out in 20 to 40 mile-per-hour winds. I was tired, so I went in and was lifting my board up onto the beach. By then Drew and Matt were about three-quarters of a mile out. In a matter of two or three minutes, the wind shifted, going from 20 mph to what I estimate was about 60 mph. I knew they were in trouble. There was no way they could sail in that kind of wind. The waves went from three-foot swells to so high I couldn’t see over the tops. It was blowing hard and kept building and building. I could occasionally see my brother, but I couldn’t see Matt.”
In the water, Matt felt the wind shift. When the high winds hit, he saw his uncle heading in. “I was in the water waiting for a gust so I could water start. That’s where your sail pulls you up. Then the wind started picking up. I tried to hold on, but it was too strong. I thought it was a microburst, and I could wait a minute for it to pass. Usually the wind won’t blow that hard that long. I looked at the clouds coming from the mountains. I knew it wasn’t a microburst, and it wasn’t going to stop.”
Matt was right. The wind was not going to stop for several hours. In fact, the wind wreaked havoc, blowing down dozens of trees, toppling trucks, shearing power poles, and ripping apart roofs throughout northern Utah. The wind would be clocked as high as 86 mph in places, hurricane velocity.
On the lake, Matt was just a speck on the water. “Quick as I could, I tried to save my boom; that’s what you hold onto on your sail. I got it off and detached my sail from my board and let my sail take off. I went to grab my boom to put it on top of my board to swim it in. The wind caught my board, and it took off. I dropped my boom and went after my board. It’s my best flotation device besides my life jacket. I looked back and my boom and sail were gone, so I started swimming with one hand on my board. I would get glimpses of the shore, but it was blowing so hard that if I tried to look at the shore, the spray off the waves would hit me in the eyes and face.
“I had been swimming for half an hour, and I felt like I wasn’t making any progress at all. I thought to myself, Any decisions I have to make, I have to make them right now before hypothermia kicks in. After a while I won’t be able to make the decisions very well or very wisely. I told myself everything I was going to do, over and over.”
The situation was similar to what Matt had been taught in church. Make your decisions before the moment of crisis. Make your decisions when you can think clearly. Then when faced with the critical moment, the right decision to carry you through will already be made.
“After an hour of swimming, I felt I was a little closer to shore. It never crossed my mind to stop. I had a life jacket and board. I was not stopping. Wherever I ended up, it was not going to be in the water. I was starting to get cold. I knew hypothermia was coming. It was getting harder to think. I had to concentrate and keep swimming. Then I felt ground underneath me. I thanked the Lord and thought, Now all I have to do is walk.”
In the meantime, Drew had gone to a marina to get a boat, but the high waves swamped the boat when they attempted a rescue. They had to turn back. The sheriff’s office could not send a helicopter up because of the high winds. At home, Matt’s mother, Barbara, was trying desperately to stay calm: “I kept saying, ‘Matt, hang onto the board. Hang onto the board. Keep your strength.’” Then she felt the comfort of the Spirit.
There was nothing to do but wait. Barry drove down the beach and stared at the most horrifying sight he had seen, waves crashing and no trace of Matt. “That’s when I felt absolute despair,” said Barry. “I knew Matt was in very good condition. I knew he knew the rules of safety. But it was getting dark. I knew he couldn’t last too much longer in the cold water. I pleaded with the Lord to temper the elements and bring my son back.”
Just when darkness was about to set in, Barry saw a figure walking toward him. It was Matt. He ran to his son, hugging him. Matt, his face purple with cold, said, “Dad, I love you.” Barry was crying on his son’s shoulder.
That evening, after Matt was reunited with his sisters and mother, the Hansens knelt in family prayer. Matt’s father is his bishop in the Parkview Ward, South Jordan Utah Stake, and rarely had the prayers of thanksgiving been so sincere and given with so much joy by the Hansens and other ward members as those that night.
The Hansens still enjoy windsurfing, but needless to say they are very cautious about weather conditions, particularly on Utah Lake. And Matt knows what it means to make decisions ahead of time, then to keep his eye on his goal and never ever stop until he reaches it.

The Samoan word Sauniatu means “a place to prepare.” The early Saints who established Sauniatu had a vision about the importance of this place in the Samoan history of the Church. They knew they needed a place where they could prepare and build strength. In 1904, when they established Sauniatu, they had been expelled from their villages, persecuted, and unfairly taxed for being Mormons. Later they started a school at Sauniatu, and it became one of the Church schools in Samoa. From time to time, during the ensuing years, the people of Sauniatu and the various school administrators talked about the advisability of keeping such a remote school operating.

One day I went to the library to get some books. One of the books was really good until I got to the third or fourth chapter. That’s where I started not to like it because the words got bad and mean. And then there was violence and lots of bad stuff. I stopped reading it. When I got the book, it looked good because of the cover and the award it got. I think that when you get a terrific-looking book, you should read the first few chapters and then think about whether it’s good or bad.

Ever since he was a little boy, David Burnell dreamed of serving his country in the military. So shortly after he returned from serving the Lord in the Canada Halifax Mission, David joined the U.S. Air Force. Now he’s not only a staff sergeant, he’s also a communications and computer specialist at Ellsworth Air Force Base in South Dakota.
The military has become an alternate route to education for many people. There are opportunities to receive training and college credit in several fields, including the ones David chose.
“I had a hard time visualizing success in going to school and being married and working all at the same time,” David said. “It scared me, so I came in the service, hoping at the same time to serve my country and maybe obtain a little bit of education. It turned out that I’ve obtained a lot.” With the help of his military training, he is close to a bachelor’s degree in the management of computer information systems at Park College in Missouri.
In high school, David was an avid pole vaulter, wrestler, and football player with a 3.3 grade point average. He took a few college prep classes and even registered twice at a junior college, but never attended. He lost his motivation when he had trouble getting the classes he wanted.
Thanks to a patriotic father, the military had always been in David’s mind. He did a summer reserve program with the Marines when he was 17 and liked it, so after his mission he decided to try the service full-time.
But life in the service can also bring unexpected challenges, like learning to deal with a new way of life and being away from your family.
“Sometimes the life-style can make you hard or callous,” David says. “It could desensitize you if you don’t study your scriptures and pray frequently and do all those things that we’re commanded to do.”
Interested? Shop around until you find the program or military school you want, and don’t sign anything until you know what you’re getting. You may have to wait a while to get into the right program, but it will be worth it. Also, know how useful it will be after you leave the service. Some training will help you get a job in the civilian world and some won’t.
“I would recommend people grabbing as much education as they can prior to coming in the military,” David says. “They would have a wider span of knowledge where they could make a better decision. Sometimes when you come in right out of school or right off a mission and you haven’t gone to school, you don’t really have the opportunity to see a whole lot of different options.”

From the time Reid Newey of Roy, Utah, was six years old he had dreamed of playing basketball. He played on community and church teams as a boy and as a teenager. He watched games on television and attended games with his father. Basketball was what he wanted to do with his life.
During his first year at Utah State University, Reid was honored by being selected for the national team made up of first year college students. He was making a meaningful contribution to college basketball. The following year he would have been one of the leading players. But something else was affecting his life. “I read the Book of Mormon all the way through during my first year in college,” said Reid. “And I really gained a great testimony of it. I loved it. I’d rush home from practice just to read it because I loved it so much. From then on I had a different feeling. I went through a lot of prayer and fasting, and it was a personal revelation for me that I should go on a mission.”
Reid had a tremendous experience in the mission field that made everything worth it. “We met this man who was a retired colonel from the army. He was just a great man. He was baptized a week before I left. He drove me to the airport to go home, and we had the opportunity to visit together for a while before my departure. As we spoke, he looked at me and said, ‘Thanks for coming, Elder Newey.’ I didn’t know exactly what he was referring to. But then he took my arm and said, ‘I mean, thanks for coming on your mission.’ That was the greatest experience of my life. It really touched me, and I can’t bear to think what it would be like if I hadn’t experienced that.”
Reid had one more piece of advice. “I’m a basketball player, but everybody has their own obstacles to going on a mission. Everybody can think of something to keep them from going. But I know there isn’t anything worth staying home for. My advice would be to get your life in order and go, no matter what it takes.”

Sometimes young women have special challenges when the family isn’t complete. Last summer in Alaska, I met a Young Women president whose mother had died when she was three. She had been raised by her father, joining the Church at age 14. I asked her how she had learned to do all the feminine things, like fixing her hair and setting a pretty table. She said: “I watched my Young Women leaders! When I saw one of them who knew how to cook, I thought, I want to be just like her. Now, every time I clean my house, I think of my Laurel adviser.” So even if your own families are less than perfect, you can think about and plan for your own future family.

Earlier this year, I underwent a serious surgery and spent many days in the hospital. As I pondered my life and what I would report to the Lord if I were called home, I realized with absolute clarity that the family is one of the most important responsibilities we have. I knew my greatest joy would be to have my children, grandchildren, and future great-grandchildren remain firm, steadfast, and immovable in the gospel. In those lonely moments in a dark hospital room, I realized that what we do within the walls of our homes far outweighs the things we do outside of them.

Ellie walked into the room she shared with her sister, plopped down on the lower bunk, and started sketching on her notepad. She was in the middle of drawing a majestic mountain scene when Addie walked in. “Get off my bed!” Addie said.
Ellie looked up, startled. “Fine!” She jumped off the bed and stormed out of the room. “I wish I had my own room!”
She headed to the bathroom to finish getting ready for school. “What’s going on?” Mom asked.
“Oh, Addie is just mad because I was sitting on her bed,” Ellie said, handing Mom a hairbrush. “It’s so hard sharing a room with her.”
“I know. I used to feel that way with my sister,” Mom said as she started brushing Ellie’s hair. “Addie seems to be feeling a little grumpy lately.”
“I know! I don’t get it!”
“Hmm,” Mom said. “What do you think we can do to help her feel better?”
Ellie thought for a minute while Mom finished putting rubber bands in her hair. Then she smiled. “I have an idea!”
She ran back to her room and opened her desk drawer. There they were—two tiny turtle charms made of glass. Ellie remembered the story Grandma told her when she gave them to her.
Once there were two turtles. One turtle had somehow gotten flipped over. Try as it might, it couldn’t flip itself back over. The other turtle noticed that something was wrong. Using its nose, it flipped the first turtle over so it could stand on its feet again.
Ellie loved that story. She ran to find her sewing kit and pulled out enough string to make two necklaces. She strung one turtle on each strand and knotted the ends. She put one necklace over her head. She put the other one in a tiny box and ran to find her sister.
“Addie!” Ellie said. “I have something for you!”
“What is it?” Addie asked.
“Here. Open it!”
Addie lifted the lid and carefully pulled the turtle necklace out of the box. She looked at her sister. “Thank you, Ellie!”
“You’re welcome,” Ellie said. “Remember the story about the turtles?” Ellie helped Addie put on the necklace. Addie nodded. “Well, I always want to help you get on your feet again whenever you are sad or mad,” Ellie said. “Oh, and I really do like sharing a room with you. I’m sorry about what I said.”
Addie gave her sister a giant hug. “I love you, Ellie. You can sit on my bed any time you want!”
The girls ran to get their backpacks for school. As Ellie climbed into the car next to her sister, she felt warm inside. Sometimes having a sister could be hard. But most of the time it was just plain wonderful.

The children of the Cayenne Branch, French Guiana, loved presenting their Primary sacrament meeting. They were happy to read their parts and they sang very well. They love Primary. One of their favorite songs is “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301).

I love nature! I like to hear the singing of the birds, the rustling of the leaves in the wind, and the sound of the sea.
Sometimes my family goes to the beach with other families. The dads play volleyball, and the moms sit under umbrellas and play with the younger children.
One afternoon I was so excited when we got to the ocean! The waves were calm, and there were small pools scattered around the shoreline. I ran to the water. I wanted to swim like a fish and collect seashells.
“Stay close, Sueli!” my mother called as she gathered the young children into the shade of the big umbrella.
“All right, Mom,” I said as I dug my toes into the wet sand.
I searched for shells and inspected the little creatures in the pools along the shore. As I splashed in one of the pools, I looked back toward my family. I could see the umbrellas in the distance. I realized I had gone too far away. I tried to swim back to the beach, but the tide had risen. The pool grew deeper as I struggled to get out.
I was getting tired, and I knew I was in danger. All I could think of was getting help from Heavenly Father. I said a prayer in my mind. As soon as I finished praying, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me to safety. It was one of my father’s friends. I am grateful that Heavenly Father answered my prayer and held out His hand by sending someone to help me.
The next time we visited the ocean I stayed close to my family, just as I can stay close to Heavenly Father through prayer.

He also met his wife-to-be, Jill Featherstone, at BYU. She was teaching the Gospel Doctrine class in her student ward. Invited by his brother, Elder Taylor visited her class and met her. A romance blossomed, and they were married on April 30, 1987, in the Salt Lake Temple. They are the parents of seven children.
Sister Taylor is the only daughter out of seven children of Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone, emeritus General Authority, and Sister Merlene Featherstone. “They were just really accepting and kind,” Elder Taylor said of his in-laws. “I felt immediately loved.”

“Revelation is a direct answer from God to each of us.”
Melissa sometimes has a hard time making decisions and figuring out what she wants to do in the future. “I have a lot of responsibilities, and it’s hard to balance life and church and school,” she says. “It can be hard to know which way to go and how to make it all work.”
But even though life can be busy, Melissa says, “I’ve learned that I just need to make sure that I always think about God first.”
Melissa determined that to put God first, she should make her prayer and scripture study more effective. She would read a verse of scriptures, pray about it, and then write down her impressions.
As she’s practiced this strategy, Melissa says she started to understand the meanings of each verse better. “It becomes clearer how I can apply it to my life.”
She’s also received blessings that help her manage her priorities and make good decisions. “When I communicate with God more often and try to involve Him in my life as much as possible, all of my other activities fall into place, and life seems a lot easier.”

There was a young woman who had had a child while unwed. She had traded the child for care, hospital fees, and anonymity. Years passed, and she tried to recover her child but without success. Finally she married, and after a year or two with no children, her fears were confirmed by her doctor, and she came to weep. She would remain childless. Oh, how cheaply she had sold her one chance for motherhood.

I urge you young people to develop the habit of always showing respect, courtesy, and deference to your parents and others, especially those who are older than you. My father taught me that every person in and out of the Church has a title, such as Mr., Mrs., Brother, Sister, Bishop, Elder, or President, and that they should be addressed with respect. When I was six years old, my father reinforced this principle when I made the horrid mistake of calling our local grocer by his first name. Upon leaving the grocery store, my father taught me with firmness that I had shown a lack of respect by being so casual to an older person. I have never forgotten that experience, nor have I after 60 years forgotten the name of the grocer. I even remember his first name.

In contrast, my mother lost her hearing as a teenager, and most of her family didn’t learn ASL. She graduated from high school, moved out at age 18, and got married shortly after. When my mom’s family gets together, almost no one uses sign language. Since my mom didn’t grow up reading lips, keeping up with conversations is challenging, especially in large groups.

A group of young people in the East Millcreek Eighth Ward, Salt Lake Mt. Olympus Stake, made for themselves a unique theatrical experience; they wrote their own script in a solid nine months of writing and then, practicing every morning at 5:30 A.M. for more than a month, they made their presentation to their ward membership.
The production was a reverent examination of the thought—their own question—“How do I know that God cares about me?” In a world of millions of people and great impersonal stress forces, they wanted to know: how can I know that God really cares about me?
The bishop, Kenneth M. Smith, had given his young people a challenge to prepare a presentation. In response to the challenge, they considered many alternatives. Finally a writing committee was asked to serve and work with an adult adviser. By common consent they settled on studying the nature of God, and they chose the readers theater format.
Their questions led them through other men’s ideas of God, their own questions about God, the scriptures, the Church’s concept of God, and back to the single question, “But how do I know He cares about me?”
Two talented young men undertook the responsibility of working out the lighting with borrowed electronic controls. The writing committee included four youths—Heather Bennett, Camille Curtis, Steve Davis, Steve Mangum—and an adult adviser. The music was directed by another youth, and all the readers chorus, accompanists, soloists, and group musical numbers were young people.
Following are some excerpts from the script:

My Masskara co-dancers and I have been trying to apply the things we learned during our rehearsal period and our recent performances, and today I am happy to note that among the Masskara dancers, three are already serving their missions, and two have received their call.
Those who are serving include Sister Alcantara, a service missionary serving in the Quezon City North Mission, and Sister Russel Bañaga and Sister Krizzia Arpellida, both serving in the Philippines, Urdaneta Mission (they entered the MTC on July 19, 2024). Meanwhile, Brother James Ejercito’s mission in Seoul, South Korea started on September 27, 2024, and Sister Maren Rivera will serve in the Philippines Baguio Mission on November 1, 2024.
Sister Arpellida, Brother James, and Sister Maren were all part of the current generation of Masskara dancers. The three of them developed a close friendship during the practices, and shared their progress along the covenant path, encouraging and inspiring each other. They showed resilience and perseverance despite having sore bodies as they continued to practice every Saturday from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm.

Time dulls some memories. Others never die. As a missionary in Kentucky and Tennessee, I had experiences that will live brightly in my mind for many years to come. During the summer of 1972 I had the opportunity of working in the small southern town of McMinnville, Tennessee. Though my stay was relatively short, it was one of the most profoundly significant times of my life.
I vividly recall the night of my arrival in McMinnville. It was early evening, and the early summer heat was stifling. I was excited. I was humble. And I was soon to come to grips with the reality of the harsh world of proselyting. This was a world where great idealism and great hope had to be translated into great faith and hard work. It was a world where baptisms were earned with blood, sweat, toil, and tears, if even then. But the Church was true, and I was excited.
Missionary work in McMinnville was hard, and the first weeks presented us with some real difficulties. The town had been tracted out on a regular basis every six months for at least the past ten years, and we only had two contacts. Fortunately, I was too green and idealistic to be discouraged, and so we went forth. And as time went on, tracting seemed increasingly fruitless. The people for whom we had the most hope seemed to be the first to lose interest. Yet in my heart I had a burning desire to succeed. The funny thing was that I really didn’t know what it meant to succeed. I didn’t know exactly what I was expecting to find, but I did know whatever real success was, that’s what I wanted.
It was early June when we called back at the first house on the right side of Van Buren Street. We had left a Book of Mormon there earlier. The husband answered the door and invited us in. The TV was on, and he returned to his easy chair where an ash tray and a beer can sat on opposite arms of the chair. After he had readjusted himself, he turned slightly and said, “Well, boys, what can I do for you?” (Boys was the common term for a couple of Mormon missionaries in the South.) I remember as I answered him that I had to speak loudly because I was running close competition with the local broadcast of Hee Haw. I explained, as best I could, why we had come: we had left a copy of the Book of Mormon with his wife, and we would like to tell them more about it as it contained a message of beauty and great importance for himself and his family. He told us he and his wife were going out for the evening but that they would be glad to have us back next week. The next week we went back. After a few preliminary introductions we were ready to go. Unfortunately Uncle Fred and his family had decided to pay an unexpected visit and showed up in the middle of the opening prayer, so we were on the road again. The next week we returned and were able to give them the first discussion. It was a rough evening. I didn’t know too much about burning hell, and the fine points of polygamy still weren’t too clear; but we explained the gospel the best we could, promised to find some more scriptural references, and bore our testimonies. Afterwards I asked Mr. Hale how he felt about the things we had discussed. I think his answer was a classic. He said, “Boys, I don’t know whether what you’ve told me tonight is true or not, but I feel like Joseph Smith did when he went to the woods to pray. I want to know the truth. I want to know the truth.” And he meant it.
The next week as we walked in the door to give the second discussion, I noticed that a curious change had taken place. The room was spotless. There were no beer cans or cigarettes this time, and the Hales were waiting for us. And to add to our rejoicing, as we pulled out our lists of scriptures on hell, polygamy, and other subjects he’d asked about, he said, “Oh, let’s go on to something else. I already believe the Church’s teachings on all that now that I’ve had a chance to think about it.” As the discussion progressed, he began asking questions he’d wondered about all his life. What a thrill it was for us to be able to give him the answers he’d been waiting so long to hear. At the end of the discussion, he confided in us that when his fellow workers found out he was listening to the Mormon missionaries they had started giving him a bad time. I asked him if this bothered him. His answer was choice: “There’s always another neighborhood to move to. There’s always another town. But if this is the truth, then that’s all that really counts.” And it was.
We knew these people were special, and more than anything we wanted them to come into the Church. I believe I learned more during that month as I searched out answers to their questions than during any other month in my life. I remember calling my district leader several times to ask for help on some tough questions. This was a particularly desperate move considering those were long-distance calls.
The third discussion was the turning point. That night I bore my testimony with all the fervor of my heart. More than anything else I wanted to touch their lives. Then an amazing thing happened. After we bore our testimonies to them, they bore their testimonies to us. They told us that they knew the Book of Mormon was true because God wouldn’t leave us with just the Bible. They told us they knew we were servants of our Heavenly Father and that the things we told them were true. And the rest—the rest is history. On July 7, 1972, Arthur and Nancy Hale were baptized members of the true church of Jesus Christ.
During their conversion I learned to love those people. In fact I would have given anything I had to see them accept the truth. For one moment I was loving and serving as Christ would love and serve. This was my joy, and my heart was full. As President Harold B. Lee once said, “If you want to love God, you’ve got to learn to love and serve the people.” This was success—to be able to love and serve others with all your heart. To love and to care, to share and to bear, to reach out and experience rebirth—this was true success. This was the answer.
I cried when I left McMinnville. Maybe I’ll go back there someday. But whether I do or not, the lesson in love I learned there will be with me the rest of my life.

At the end of January 1831, Joseph and Emma Smith traveled to Ohio from New York in a horse-drawn sleigh. It was very cold, and Emma was expecting a baby. They arrived safely in front of Newel K. Whitney’s store in Kirtland during the first part of February. As they stopped, the prophet sprang from the sleigh, entered the store, and approached Brother Whitney, whom he had never met before. “Newel K. Whitney!” he declared, extending his hand to shake. “Thou art the man.” “You have the advantage of me,” replied Brother Whitney. “I could not call you by name as you have me.” “I am Joseph the Prophet. You prayed me here, now what do you want of me?” Joseph then explained that while he was still in New York he had seen Brother Whitney in a vision, praying for him to come to Kirtland. With great joy, the Whitneys made room in their home for the Smiths until they could find another place to live.