Gospel Story Finder

I learned a valuable lesson once long ago from a sweet lady, Sister Lucy Grant Cannon, who became violently ill while visiting her daughter in Arizona. We elders were promptly called, and we administered to her. The next day she was asked if she wished to be administered to again and her reply was, “No, I have been anointed and administered to. The ordinance has been performed. It is up to me now to claim my blessing through my faith.”
Sometimes when one still feels the need of further blessing after having recently had an administration, a blessing without the anointing oil is given.

I’d like to express my feelings regarding a letter in the November issue of the New Era. Tina De Luca, from Naples, Italy, wrote of her experience while in the United States. I know how she feels, and I’d like to tell her how proud I am of people like her.
I joined the Church five years ago in my home town of Lucca, Italy, which is near Florence. I also was able to attend school in the United States. A little over a year ago I was called to serve as a missionary in the Ohio Cleveland Mission.
I am so grateful to those two missionaries who knocked on my door and taught me the true gospel of Jesus Christ. It is true that, as Tina said, the Church is quite “new” in Italy, and I’d like to say that it is also quite great! I love the missionary work that I’m doing now in Ohio, and I also cherish what I’ve done to help the Church grow in Italy. Thank you, Tina, for sharing your feelings with me. With love, your sorella in the gospel.
Sister Daniela M. BattagliniOhio Cleveland Mission

About two months after my baptism, I was crossing over a highway on a walkway bridge in an area named Posto Dudu, in the city of Parnamirim in Brazil. I was heading to a bus stop on the opposite side.
As I crossed, I passed a lady who was clinging to a safety railing. Her head was down and her body was shaking. People seemed afraid of her when they passed her. I thought she might have mental problems.
After I passed her, I heard a voice as clear as any human voice that said, “Go back!” I didn’t see anyone near me and thought I was hearing things.
I walked a little farther when I heard the voice again: “Go back!” I thought about returning but kept walking, wondering if the lady might hurt me if I went back to her.
When I reached the other side of the walkway, I heard the voice for the third time: “Go back!” I stopped, remembering that I had recently received the gift of the Holy Ghost and the blessing to receive guidance from the Spirit. I hurried back to the lady.
“Excuse me, but can I help you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I need to get to the other side to catch my bus, but I can’t make it because I’m afraid of heights. I have been standing here for a long time without knowing what to do.”
“I will help you,” I told her. “Hold my arm, close your eyes, and together we will reach the other side.”
She tightly held on to my arm, closed her eyes, and slowly walked with me to the other side. She said she had been praying for a long time that God would help her cross. Then she thanked me and asked God to bless me. After she caught her bus, I thought for several minutes about what had just happened.
“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me,” the Savior said (John 10:27). That day I learned that one of the best ways to follow Him and feel His love is to heed the voice of the Spirit when it calls us to help others.

Remarkable events are relived as I flip the remote control of observation and memory. One of the most touching involves a young lady convert to the Church who found in the home of a Latter-day Saint fellow student a spirit and a caring relationship she had never before known.

She said that since her baptism, things had not really changed in her own home; there were still abuse and argument and alcohol and foul language. “But,” she said, “there is one room at my house where I can shut the door and read the scriptures and listen to good music and pray and feel the Spirit of the Lord. In my little room I can have that blessing. One day, if the Lord will help me, I will marry a man and live in a home where we can have the Spirit of the Lord always.”

I couldn’t believe what I had just heard—surgery. All I could think about was why me? Why now? What will I do? It was my senior year in high school. I was captain of the volleyball team, an all-region team member, and I had a scholarship to play volleyball in college. A little later I would be basketball captain and have an opportunity to play basketball in Australia for the state of Arizona.
All my hopes and dreams were swept away. Wasn’t I living righteously? I couldn’t stop thinking about why this had to happen to me. Doesn’t Heavenly Father love me?
While doing my regular seminary reading, I came across the book of Job. He was very faithful and always loved and feared the Lord. Even when Heavenly Father allowed Satan to take away Job’s riches and family, then covered him with boils and illnesses, Job still loved the Lord and never doubted.
I was in tears. I realized that Heavenly Father does love me and that this was just one little trial that would only make me a better person. I began my prayer that night thanking Him for the trials I have and for helping me come closer to Him.
There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t thank my Heavenly Father for the wonderful lesson I learned from Job that night.

Service: Many years ago I attended a conference with President Marion G. Romney. During the break between sessions of conference, we went for a short walk. One of the things he said to me was, “Brother Featherstone, do you think the brethren of the priesthood will ever come to understand that they were born to serve their fellowmen?” In one sentence he gave me a concept that has been a great motivating factor in my life. I commend it to you.

I had gone to my friend’s house one day, and her mother asked me if I wanted some tea. I said, “No thanks. I don’t drink it.”
Her mother asked, “What if I make it very weak?”
I told her that I’d have to ask my mom. So I phoned my mom, and she agreed with me that drinking even weak tea would be breaking the Word of Wisdom. So I told my friend’s mom, “My mom said no.”
After that, I was happy that I followed the Word of Wisdom, and I still am. I am also glad that I am following the counsel of the prophet.
Karina Sadler, age 11Abbotsford, British Columbia, Canada

Photograph by Melanie Garcia
As another example of youth leading out in positive activities that strengthen others, an entire city in Texas, USA, became a bit brighter after a group of young women in one ward decided to “SMILE” at everyone around them: “Surround Myself In Light Every day.”

The goal of their SMILE Project was to spread happiness through smiling at every person they came in contact with—including themselves. Each day for two weeks, the young women would smile at the mirror in the morning and then smile at each person they met during the day. Their efforts quickly turned into something worth grinning over.

“I felt extremely privileged to be able to spread happiness in such a simple and brilliant way!” says Kelly D., 15. “I felt like I was really trying to be like Jesus and sharing my love with the community by smiling.”

Of course, when you smile at someone, you often receive a smile back. Their smiles began spreading through town.

The young women also noticed that smiling at themselves in the mirror made a difference in their day. “At first the part about smiling at myself sounded kind of strange,” admits Megan M., 13. “But after a little while, my self-confidence grew.”

As the two weeks unfolded, the young women realized their small acts of kindness had a big impact. Maisie D., 17, sums up the project: “I learned for myself that small and simple acts of kindness can make all the difference in someone’s life,” she says. In this case, as in many cases (see Alma 37:6), taking “the first step on the dance floor” didn’t require a huge effort—just a simple goal that invited happiness and allowed others to join in a good thing.

I became more and more uncomfortable during our first member-missionary Sunday School class while the teacher talked about the importance of the work.
“Every member a missionary,” he reminded us, and then he continued: “Eighty percent of the convert baptisms in our mission come from member referrals. One part of the threefold mission of the Church is to proclaim the gospel to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people. Brothers and sisters, we need to learn to open our mouths and share the gospel!”
His words weren’t new to me; I had heard them many times and believed them to be true. So why was I feeling uncomfortable? Why was I too nervous to give a nonmember a copy of the Book of Mormon, share my testimony with someone, or invite someone to meet the missionaries? Feeling discouraged after that first class, I tried to understand why I felt afraid to give a copy of the Book of Mormon to a nonmember, to share my testimony of the gospel, and to the invite nonmember friends and neighbors to meet with the missionaries. In examining my fears I took the first step toward a remarkable change in my life. As I studied the scriptures and words of living prophets and prayed to the Lord, my fear turned to confidence. By the end of that six-week class, I had given away seven copies of the Book of Mormon, shared my testimony with two nonmembers, and invited neighbors into our home to meet the missionaries. Here’s how I faced my fears and dealt with them.

Later, as 18-year-old Moisés prepared for his mission, his family continued to face temporal challenges. He doubted his decision to leave and told his mother he wanted to stay home to help her.
“If you really want to help me,” she told him, “go and serve the Lord.”
Kneeling by his cot at the close of his first day in the Mexico Hermosillo Mission, Moisés felt that the Lord was pleased with his decision. He credits his mission for the growth of his testimony of the restored gospel.

I have visited with a woman who received the miracle of sufficient strength to endure unimaginable losses with just the simple capacity to repeat endlessly the words “I know that my Redeemer lives.” That faith and those words of testimony were still there in the mist that obscured but did not erase memories of her childhood.

Vacations are usually for relaxing and enjoying a few days off, but I did not find that solace on my vacation. Every day I felt sad, and it continued after returning home. I felt lost, became lazy, felt a lack of self-esteem, and there was an emotional wear and tear constantly weighing on me. I was drifting away from Heavenly Father and sinking into my own doubts. I am Yonal. I am sixteen years old, and I live in Verón in the Dominican Republic.
Life can be difficult, but when people go through depression, they often have no idea why or what event caused these feelings in their life. I fall in this category.
I love music, and the words from the hymn, “Where can I Turn for Peace”1 felt very familiar to me. However, it is important to sing that entire song, for in it we receive direction. I was blessed with the knowledge of the gospel, and I did indeed find “love without end” that came from the Lord through my bishop’s guidance. I shared my feelings with him, and he led me to many scriptures that helped me understand my situation. In those scriptures, I was able to see my life through the Savior’s perspective.
One night, I slipped again into discouraging thoughts, but then I remembered this verse in Doctrine and Covenants 25:12, “The song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads.”
Through this scripture, I felt that developing my singing talent would be my song of righteousness unto Him. I felt building that talent would be a blessing to myself and to others. Many artists write songs about how they feel, so I found a notebook and started writing my feelings and after several days I felt peace in my soul. I had my dear friend, Enoch Mirabal, assist with the final touches to my song. I am not sure where that song will go but it allowed me to release my frustration and to move forward.
I am now more aware of songs that lift my spirit and I thank Heavenly Father for opening my eyes to the talents I have. If I improve my musical talents, they will continue to set me, and possibly others, free from their own challenges.
I learned we will be challenged in this life, we are not alone, we are to grow and share the talents that we have to help all of God’s children, and as we do, we will receive blessings upon our head.

“Ro-sie!” called Mama. “It is time for you and Heman to take Papa his dinner.”
We needed no second call, for this was one errand we delighted in doing. Mama filled a plate with hot food, covered it with a soup dish to keep in the warmth, wrapped it carefully in a large napkin, and placed it in a basket. Then she handed the basket to us with final instructions: “Carry it carefully, don’t play on the way, and hurry home after Papa has eaten.”
It was ten blocks from our home on East Third South to Salt Lake Temple Block where Papa worked as a stonecutter. But it didn’t seem that long to us as we talked of the fun we’d have while Papa ate his dinner. It was interesting to watch the huge granite blocks being brought in from the canyon quarry by ox-drawn wagons. While the wagons were unloaded, the oxen stood patiently switching at flies with their tails. After the rough blocks were cut and smoothed to the required shape and size, they were tilted and placed in rows like dominoes, leaving the sharp edges protruding like saw teeth. We enjoyed running back and forth on top of these stone dominoes in our bare feet. Shoes were saved for Sunday and for school.
Sometimes we would watch as skilled workmen cut sun, moon, and star designs into certain stones. Each held a small iron chisel in his left hand and a hard wooden mallet in his right, tapping gently so as not to chip out too much rock and spoil the pattern.
Today Papa had a special surprise for us. He said, “The men who are making the circular staircase (there was one in each corner of the building) say you may go up as far as it is completed, but you must be very quiet, because this is the Lord’s house.”
I took Heman’s hand, and together we climbed the huge stone steps—up, up, up until we were out of breath. It was easier going down. Then Papa took us into the carpenter shop where wood for the building was sawed. On the floor was a heap of clean sawdust and Papa told us that the foreman said it would be all right for us to take some home so Mama could show us how to make a pincushion. “Someday it will be a fine thing,” Papa said, “to have a pincushion made with temple sawdust.”
Eagerly we filled the basket with fragrant sawdust and hurried home. But Mama had no time right then to help with a pincushion. She was trying to finish the washing and ironing for Sister Young, who lived next door, and the baby was cross. I rocked the baby to sleep, then helped Mama prepare supper.
In the evening, after the dishes were washed and put away, Mama found a piece of sturdy brown cloth on which she drew a large fig leaf. She showed me how to embroider green lines for veins and outline the edge with a blanket stitch. A matching piece for the back was sewed to the front, leaving a hole near the top to pour in the temple sawdust until the leaf would hold no more. Then we sewed the hole shut so none of the precious sawdust would be lost. When the pincushion was finished I proudly showed it to Papa for his approval, then placed it on top of Mama’s bureau with my other special treasures.

Akoni is 12 years old. He lives in New Mexico, USA, in the Navajo Nation. This is an area of the United States governed by the Navajo people. More than 250,000 people live there.
When Akoni was younger, he watched his older siblings go to Young Women and Young Men.
He also saw how happy they were when they went to the temple. Akoni was excited to visit the temple too.
Akoni prepared for Young Men by going to church and talking with his family.
He asked questions about the temple so he would be ready to go inside.
“I was nervous to go to the temple for the first time,” says Akoni. “But when I’m in the temple, I feel safe.”
The closest temple to Akoni is the Albuquerque New Mexico Temple. It is a four-hour drive away. Akoni is excited that soon a new temple will be built closer.
Akoni hopes to serve a mission one day, just like his older siblings.
He has started sharing the gospel by inviting his friend to church. He wants to be an example to his younger brother and others too!

The American secretary of state, William Maxwell Evarts, wrote to the British foreign secretary, the marquis of Salisbury, requesting the British government’s earnest attention on the matter of the emigration of members of the Church. He said it was “a deliberate and systematic attempt to bring persons to the United States with the intent of violating their laws.”2 The marquis, however, pointed out that the law of England did not invest the government with authority to institute inquisitorial examinations into the private opinions of its citizens and, in any case, it was not an offence to hold opinions which some may regard as injurious to morality. He therefore regretted that he couldn’t comply with the American government’s request but would distribute notices making known the law of the United States affecting polygamy and the penalties attached to its infringement.

The Pink Refrigerator, by Tim Egan. Dodsworth lives a dull life until he finds an old refrigerator in the junkyard with a magnet that just won’t come off. The magnet advises Dodsworth to “make pictures,” “read more,” and “make music.” Find out what other magic the refrigerator holds.

“He gives his time freely and willingly to the Church. He was once promised in a blessing, when he was beginning a new business, that if he would put the Church first in his life, he would be prosperous. He has always lived by that principle and his business has flourished.”

I’m not alone—my mom can get discouraged with her to-do lists, too. But one time she shared with me a little secret: some days she doesn’t write out a to-do list. Instead, she’ll wait until she finishes something, and then she’ll write it down and cross it off. At the end of the day, instead of looking at a list of all the things she still has to do, she has a different kind of list—a “done list.” And then she feels so much better.

On the same day members in other areas of London joined in Helping Hands projects at Haven House Children’s Hospice and Richard House Children’s Hospice.
At Richard House, 18 members of the Stratford Ward painted an office space, weeded, cut plants, swept the grounds, and fixed tools. This was the hospice’s first contact with the Church, said Charlotte Illera, project manager for the service project at Richard House.
“I was touched with the way the volunteers took on their tasks with enthusiasm and joy,” she said. “Even a simple task such as sweeping a path was done to its best.”

“Remember, just five minutes,” warned the attendant as he ushered Salt Lake businessman Nephi L. Morris into the plush Chicago office of important financier Thomas N. McCauley. Handing the tycoon the caller’s business card, the attendant posted himself by the door to be sure the five-minute limit would not be exceeded.
“From Salt Lake City I see,” remarked the busy executive. “Sit down Mr. Morris. Because you are a Utahn, I want to tell you about an experience I had years ago out in your part of the world.” Not waiting to find out Brother Morris’s business reason for the visit, Mr. McCauley disregarded his own tight business schedule—and his upset attendant—and for a full hour related to his visitor a singular experience cherished in his memory.
Mr. McCauley explained that while still a young man he had amassed a fortune in the East before the turn of the century. But the strain of business finally broke him physically. His doctor warned that the only hope for recovery was for the young executive to spend six months to a year in the West, living in the open. Reluctantly accepting this advice, Mr. McCauley turned his extensive business affairs over to associates and went west, accompanied by the doctor.
For months the two men camped in a covered wagon while leisurely traveling about the Rocky Mountain regions. Then, when recovery seemed near, McCauley suddenly developed a fever of 102 degrees and severe chills. The doctor, fearing for his patient’s life, hurried the wagon to the nearest settlement: Bunkerville, Nevada, a small Mormon settlement near the southwest corner of Utah. Having a deep dislike for Mormons, the doctor nevertheless swallowed his pride and appealed for help at the home of a local farmer, Edward Bunker, Jr., who turned out to be the town’s bishop and the son of the man for whom Bunkerville was named.
The strangers had not known that this man’s home often served as a hospital or hotel for people passing through those barren regions. While bishop from 1883 to 1908, Brother Bunker served as the local doctor, setting about 40 broken limbs, amputating fingers, lancing sores, and once even successfully sewing on a boy’s foot that had been amputated by a mowing machine. According to local tradition, the Bunker family rarely dined alone because of the good bishop’s hospitality. Travelers could stay at the Bunker home as long as they wanted, said the Bunker rule, but they would be treated like one of the family and could not disrupt the normal family life.
The Easterners were quickly made welcome and were promised every accommodation within the tiny community’s power to give. Their wagon and team were cared for. Food was provided. Bedding and supplies materialized, and the Bunker parlor was converted into a makeshift hospital ward.
Day after day the doctor and the Bunkers carefully nursed the critically ill patient. Weeks passed and McCauley made only slow progress. The doctor spent his time with the sick man or off by himself. While confined helplessly to his bed, however, the young man was in a unique position to witness the everyday activities of this humble Latter-day Saint family.
At times the parlor door was left ajar, and McCauley could look into the next room where, after a day of hard farm toil, the family blessed and then ate their evening meal. Many times at nightfall McCauley observed them kneeling in family prayer, the bishop himself often praying aloud.
At last the patient’s condition improved enough for the doctor to allow him to resume the journey. On the morning of the doctor and McCauley’s departure, the Bunker family arose early as usual. Unknowingly they had awakened their guests, who could not help but overhear the special family prayer offered in their behalf. The family gathered in the dining room where the sturdy bishop, kneeling beside his children and as humble as they were, reverently poured out his soul in supplication. Among other things he fervently thanked God for blessing their guest with a great recovery of health, and he invoked a special blessing for a full and complete healing.
During the prayer McCauley noticed his doctor friend slip quietly from the parlor with tears on his cheeks. McCauley, recognizing the faith being exercised in his behalf, could barely suppress his own tears as a deep feeling of gratitude welled up in his heart. As he confessed while telling the story to Brother Morris years later, “I have never heard such a prayer in all my life.”
Arising from prayer the family went about their daily chores while Bishop Bunker came into the parlor to say goodbye to his guests. Shaking hands with McCauley, he expressed to the Easterner his great pleasure at “having been favored with the privilege of rendering an act of kindness,” then wished him and the doctor a pleasant journey.
“I am greatly indebted to you, Bishop Bunker,” said McCauley, “and I desire to properly compensate you for your merciful kindness and care of me, which is responsible for saving my life. I am a man of ample means and to reward you generously would be a great pleasure to me.”
Knowing the Bunkers’ existence was hard and that they lacked many material things, he was amazed when the bishop kindly refused the offer. “No,” said the Mormon, “I can’t accept anything from you. I have only done what any man should do for his brother.”
“But I must do something to compensate you for what you bestowed upon me. I cannot let you go uncompensated. Please tell me what I can do for you in money or otherwise.”
To this earnest request the hospitable bishop replied: “I am already amply repaid for my helpfulness to you. The only way you can pay me is by doing for some other person who stands in like need of help as I have cheerfully done for you.”
And that closed the transaction as far as Bishop Bunker was concerned.
But McCauley never forgot the debt he felt he owed, and in following years he repaid it—mainly by helping Latter-day Saints. When donations were sought to build a monument in Utah to Brigham Young, McCauley’s name headed the donors’ list with a $1,000 contribution. During Utah Senator Reed Smoot’s membership trial in the United States Senate, the influential financier personally lobbied with Vice-president William Howard Taft in defense of the Mormons. He offered financial opportunities to various Utah and Church leaders. When two prominent Mormons suffered financial reverses during the panic of 1907, McCauley gave them back their notes and canceled their loan obligations to him.
And whenever opportunities presented themselves, even if it meant turning a five-minute appointment into an hour’s discussion, the financier felt an obligation to tell Utahns like Brother Morris about his struggle with death in the Nevada wastelands where a Mormon bishop, whom he had not seen before or since, had exercised faith in God to help a stranger recover. That was something, McCauley explained, which all his own wealth and power could not accomplish.
The story so impressed Brother Morris that he immediately noted it down. Twenty years later, in 1943, he wrote to Bishop Bunker’s descendants and shared the story with them, for whom it now is a source of family pride and inspiration.