Gospel Story Finder

What a comfort it is to know that if we live our lives in righteousness, sealed to one another, we can spend the eternities together.
On August 27, 1982, my brother, Howard Pack, died of a heart attack while running a cross-country race. At the age of 17, he was taken from our family of 13. We love him so very much. He was an example to us all.
Howard exemplified the words, “Don’t wait to be a great man; be a great boy.” Howard accomplished things, not to be noticed by the world, but to better himself. He completed all the requirements for his Eagle Scout Award yet never bothered to turn in the necessary papers. The recognition just wasn’t important to him.
An excellent debater, Howard carried the district team to a division championship. The local paper heralded the news, but somehow they listed his name as “Harland Pike.” Howard’s response was simply, “Oh well, I know who I am.” What an assurance for us to “know who we are.”
Howard’s list of achievements includes playing the clarinet, being seminary class president, winning trophies in debate and speech, making the honor roll, and being listed in Who’s Who among American High School Students. But through everything, his family came first. Though busy, Howard would make time to pick me up from work or dry the tears of a younger brother and sister. Howard honored his priesthood and kept the Lord’s commandments. In a recent conversation with mother, Howard assured her, “Mother, I am worthy to serve a mission.” When as a young boy, Howard cut his face, a clerk asked if he had received the scratch from fist fighting. Howard responded, “I don’t fight!”
Yet, for a good cause, Howard gave all that he had. He spent several hours of piano practice so that he could play a few hymns for seminary. When others smoked, drank, or told lewd stories, he walked away from it. Howard loved the Lord and is now serving him in the heavens.
How I love my younger brother. Although I am two years older, I looked up to him. He was such a good friend. We mourn the passing of a loved one, but my family knows that “families are forever.”

“When your great-great-grandmother Emily Burk left Nauvoo to come west, she had an old hen she wanted to bring with her. It had been doing something rather unusual—sitting on a nest of duck eggs—and Emily just couldn’t leave her behind. So she set up a box in the wagon for the nest. Soon the ducklings hatched, and every night when the wagon train stopped, Emily filled a washtub with water and let the little ducks swim. Everyone in camp came to watch them.
“You see, Rachel, part of being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is helping others. There’s even a scripture in the Book of Mormon that tells us how important it is to ‘bear one another’s burdens’ [Mosiah 18:8]. Heavenly Father wants us to take care of those who can’t take care of themselves.”
“You mean, just like Emily took care of the chicken and like the chicken took care of the ducks?”
“And just like the Lord took care of the pioneers and how He still takes care of all of us. He wants us to be happy, so He watches over us.”
“Why doesn’t He take care of Sister Heaton instead of having Mom do it?”
“That’s how He is taking care of Sister Heaton—through your mother. Most of the time Heavenly Father answers our prayers through someone else.”
“So Mom is Heavenly Father’s answer to Sister Heaton’s prayers?”
“Probably. Your mother is helping Sister Heaton rest and get her mind off her troubles, sort of like those ducklings helped the tired pioneers find a little bit of enjoyment at the end of their long days.”
“But why do I have to baby-sit?”
“So your mom can help Sister Heaton. The ducks wouldn’t have been able to bring some enjoyment to the pioneers if the chicken hadn’t cared for them. Your mom wouldn’t be able to help Sister Heaton if she did not know you would take good care of your brother while she’s gone.”
“So, in a way, I’m helping Sister Heaton too?”
“In a very big way.”
“Then I guess I don’t feel so bad about waiting until tomorrow to go skating.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
As Aunt Pearl left, Rachel heard David waking up. On her way upstairs to get him, she thought more about what Aunt Pearl had said. Rachel was still a bit disappointed to miss out on the trip to the park, but it helped to know that taking care of David helped Heavenly Father take care of Sister Heaton.
“As we keep the commandments and [serve], the Lord can ‘pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon [us]’ (Mosiah 18:10; see D&C 20:77). The reward for obedience and service is not only the gift of the Holy Ghost but also special gifts of the Spirit. Paul defines the fruits of the Spirit as love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, and meekness (see Gal. 5:22–23). The Holy Spirit blesses us with Christlike attributes as we serve each other.”Elder Merrill J. BatemanOf the Seventy(Ensign, Jan. 1999, 10.)

On Sunday afternoon Elder Clayton began by saying he felt impressed to completely change his talk. The Spirit told him he needed to speak to a family present that day. I immediately sensed that he would be speaking to our family. He told of a stake president whose wife was diagnosed with cancer. After much prayer and fasting by family members, friends, and members of her stake, she had fully recovered.

Elder Clayton then talked about another stake president, one whose wife had died of cancer during his service as stake president. She left several small children in his care. Many people had also fasted and prayed for her recovery. This story was particularly touching to Elder Clayton because this woman was his wife’s only sister.

Elder Clayton went on to explain that no matter how much faith is exercised at times like these, sometimes the answer is no. Then he read what has become one of our family’s favorite scriptures, Daniel 3:17–18:

“If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king.
“But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up” (emphasis added).

Elder Clayton did not speak of any doctrine that was new to us that afternoon. But a miracle happened that left us in awe. The Lord made sure we would be in attendance during the afternoon session by inspiring someone to ask us to pray. He also arranged for one of His servants, one who had had an experience similar to ours, to speak to us. And finally, He gave us someone wise and obedient who had lived his life in such a way that he could hear the Spirit and respond accordingly. Our spirits were touched in indescribable ways by that experience.

The next day we received the call telling us my sister had passed away. Although we were saddened, a sweet spirit of comfort was in our home as we prayed for her family—this time with full confidence that the Lord’s will had been done—and thanked Him for His precious answer to our prayers.

A few years ago Jeremy Kearns and his family were on a bow hunt in the La Sal Mountains in southern Utah. One drizzly morning Jeremy and his younger brother Daniel saw a deer near their camp. They shot at it with their toy bows and arrows, then ran after it, not realizing how far from their tent they had run before they lost sight of the deer. Finally they stopped to catch their breath before starting on their walk back to camp. However, they soon realized that they were lost. All afternoon they walked and called out for help, but no one heard them. They began to be afraid. It was raining hard, and they tried to make a shelter under a big tree. They huddled together to keep warm. All night they prayed to Heavenly Father for help.
After walking for three hours the next morning, the boys saw some cows. Just then Jeremy heard a voice in his mind. He was told to follow the cow’s path to the stream, go up the stream, around the mountain, and then someone would find them there.
Jeremy and Daniel heeded this answer to their prayers, and when they reached the other side of the mountain, they heard people calling for them. Soon they were back with their family, grateful for the answer that they had received to their prayers.

I can remember the first words Cort Tyler ever said to me. He leaned over my shoulder, looked at the book I was reading before I could jerk it out of sight, and said, “Hey, you’re reading I, Robot.”
We were standing in line, waiting to get into the high school basketball tournament. Actually I was in line with my best friend, Laney. Cort was with his girlfriend, Trish, standing right behind us.
Of course, I knew who he was. He was in my stake, and sometimes I saw him playing basketball in our building. I always thought he didn’t know who I was. At that time I was suffering from an invisibility complex. I thought that no one really ever saw me, especially someone I was developing a crush on. So I was more than a little surprised when Cort spoke to me.
I turned to look at him, but ended up face to face with Trish instead. She was watching me with a look my cat gets when he’s sitting in the windowsill watching robins land on the ledge on the other side of the glass.
“I just checked it out of the library,” I said, glancing from Trish back to Cort. “I started reading it on the bus on the way home. That was my mistake. Now I can’t put it down.”
I stuffed the book into my purse, but Cort kept talking.
“I think I’ve read every one of Asimov’s science fiction books,” he said. “I can’t believe a guy could write that many, but he’s great.”
I could hardly concentrate on what Cort was saying. Trish kept her eyes on my face. There was no possibility of a smile on those lips until Cort glanced down at her at his side. She flashed her teeth and slipped an arm around his waist, hooking her thumb through his belt loop.
Cort absentmindedly hung his arm across her shoulders and kept talking to me. “I think I have about four paperbacks at home that belong to the library. I wasn’t going to return them, but I’ll take them back if you want them.”
“Sure, I’d like … ,” I tried to say, but just then the line started to move. The surge of the crowd carried us through the doors. Laney and I went to sit with the Pep Club, but I watched Cort walk through the crowd until he sat with some friends at the top of the bleachers. Trish was still glued to his side, his arm still around her shoulders, but he had his head turned away, talking to someone I couldn’t quite see.
I didn’t talk to Cort again for five months. I was in the habit of checking for him wherever I went. Sometimes I would see him across the cultural hall at stake dances, but he was always with the guys that hang around the edges making fun of some of the girls—the guys that act up until one of the chaperones plants himself in the middle of the group to interrupt the obnoxiousness that seems to feed on itself. Other than that I only saw him in the halls at school.
I wasn’t at all prepared for our second conversation.

While talking to a friend going through a difficult time, I asked how he was surviving financially. In tears, he replied that his bishop was helping him using fast-offering funds. He added, “I don’t know where my family and I would be if it wasn’t for the Church.” I replied, “The Church is the members. They are the ones who willingly and joyfully give fast offerings to help those of us in need. You are receiving the fruits of their faith and determination to follow Jesus Christ.”

Karoly Takacs, a Hungarian, was recognized as the best pistol shot in the world. More than anything he wanted to win in the Olympics. But one day driving home, Takacs was in a crash, and doctors had to amputate his right arm—his shooting arm.
Takacs’s recovery was slow. It wasn’t a physical challenge, but an emotional one. He had hit bottom. People wanted to help but there was little they could do. Takacs began to avoid his friends; even his family didn’t know where he spent his time. But Karoly Takacs was preparing. In solitude he had trained his left arm and his aiming eye, a training that’s far more of an intellectual mastery than most people realize. By the next Olympics, Takacs was ready.
When the pistol event was over, this one-armed Hungarian stood, the cheers rising about him, on the topmost step of the winner’s platform with a gold medal around his neck.
Takacs showed us something more than his ability to shoot. He proved that human beings have a largely untapped comeback capacity. He discovered for himself the exciting fact that hitting bottom does not mean defeat, but that it just signals the end of downward movement. As one friend told me, “The bottom can be something to bounce on.”

I am sure that family prayer motivated a letter written some years ago by a young Latter-day Saint girl attending a Colorado high school. The students had been asked to prepare a letter to be written to a great man of their choice. Many addressed their letters to well-known athletes, to a noted astronaut, to the president of the United States, and to other celebrities. This young lady, however, addressed her letter to her father, and in the letter she stated: “I have decided to write this letter to you, Dad, because you are the greatest man that I have ever known. The overwhelming desire of my heart is that I might so live that I might have the privilege of being beside you and Mother and other members of the family in the celestial kingdom.” That father never received a more cherished letter.

In a testimony meeting in Bari, Italy, you can imagine my surprise when a young man stood up and said, “If it hadn’t been for the missionaries, I wouldn’t be here today.” He then went on to tell how his mother and grandparents had been found in Paris, France, by Elders Ben Walton and James Paramore 30 years earlier. After many meetings, the family was baptized. Now this son was on a mission. I later learned that over the years more than 170 people had been baptized by that family. I had been privileged to serve a mission, and those two and a half years were crucial to my testimony. I cannot thank God enough.

I was nervous and insecure as I walked to my new classroom with 30 other girls who did not know each other. I would be attending school with them in a Catholic private school for the next five years. First thing, our teacher asked if everybody had been christened in the Catholic Church. As I was the only one to say no, everybody’s eyes were directed at me.
That was my first day in a new school in Salzburg, Austria, a school managed by nuns. I quickly became used to the crucifixes hanging in each classroom, the morning devotionals, and the nuns. However, it was unusual for my schoolmates to have a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints with them. They were curious to learn what I believed. I was not able to answer all their questions precisely. I wondered how I could receive permission to invite the missionaries.
This opportunity finally presented itself. We did not have a native speaker in our English class one year. I asked my classmates if it was a good idea to invite the missionaries. Then I asked the missionaries if they were allowed to come to schools. And finally I asked my English professor if they could come. I passed out a list on which everyone wrote what she would like the missionaries to talk about. I was amazed to see that the majority wanted to know why they had decided to go on missions, what kind of work they were doing, and how our Church differed from other churches.
Elder Allen and Elder Jones came to class and took most of the class period talking about the Church. It was awesome! After they left, I was bombarded with even more questions.
That year I was no longer the only member of the Church in my school. Because of two of my Latter-day Saint friends who began attending the school, the song “A Child’s Prayer” (Children’s Songbook, 12–13) is now part of the music teacher’s repertoire.
It was not as difficult as I expected to talk about the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful to Heavenly Father for His Son, Jesus Christ, and for His wonderful gospel. I am also grateful for every opportunity to share my testimony by the Holy Spirit.

In high school I ran cross-country and distance track. I was never very good, but I enjoyed running and worked hard. One day my team was scheduled for a cross-country meet that took place on a particularly hilly course. I’d been practicing hard, so as we lined up in our starting positions, I said a silent prayer to Heavenly Father to ask if He would bless me with success in accordance to my hard work.
The gunshot sounded, and we were off. The first mile was flat and I was feeling pretty well, so I began to run even faster. Surely this was going to be my finest race! Then came the first hill. I ran up as fast as I could and came tearing down the other side. But then there was another hill. This one was even steeper, and I quickly lost my momentum. I started feeling like I might fall down the other side. I held it together, but when I came around the next corner, I saw multiple hills to come. Before long I became very tired. By mile two, other runners continually passed me. I became frustrated with myself for taking the first part of the race so fast, using all the energy that I needed now. I wanted to give up and walk off the course.
I decided to say another silent prayer. I asked my Father in Heaven to bless me with the ability to finish the race. Then the thought came, “Sometimes life gets hard, and it’s all you can do to keep running, but in the end you’ll be glad you didn’t give up and walk.” I was able to finish the race, and while I didn’t run the amazing race I’d wanted to, I gained something that has helped me ever since—a sense for how it may feel to endure to the end.

Elder Rod Badger writes from Brazil that the miracle the gospel works in the lives of people has been his greatest eye-opener since arriving in the field. “Add that to the real love you feel for people a lot older than you, and you have the essence of missionary joy. We’ve come to love Victor Colletti who is eighty-two and was the third person baptized in his village. Since then he’s learned to read and write and has been instrumental in bringing twenty-seven people into the Church. He still spends two or three days a week doing tracting. He’s a real help to us missionaries”

I was delivered of a beautiful and healthy girl baby, which died at the birth. Thus the only bright star, to which my doting heart had clung, was snatched away, and, though it seemed a needless bereavement, and most cruel in the eyes of all who beheld it, their sympathies were such that by their united faith and prayers, they seemed to buoy me up to that degree that death was shorn of its sting, till I could say,“Thy will not mine, be done.”—Helen Mar Whitney

My father died in an industrial accident when I was just two years old. Even though she had seven children to raise—I was the youngest—and very little money, my mother served as Relief Society president, helping others with their difficulties. She taught us the value of service, of always being willing to do things for other people, of giving of oneself and one’s time and talents to other people.
I have always adored my mother. She taught me the principles of the gospel. I have always prayed, I have always been active in the Church, and I have always had a testimony, thanks to my good mother.

Born in January 1951 in Murray, Utah, USA, to Milo Fredrick and Mary Katherine Dyches, he was the second of seven children. When he was a young deacon, his family moved to Elko, Nevada, where he spent time after school working at his father’s pharmacy. As they worked side by side, his father taught him the importance of hard work—something that would serve him well as a young missionary in the Germany South Mission from 1970 to 1972.
“It was a tough mission, but it was a great mission for me,” he said. “I learned the value of hard work and obedience and not giving up.”

Last year I was struggling in school and decided that I needed some additional help beyond tutoring and extra study—I needed to include my Heavenly Father in my study process. The lesson I learned from this decision cannot be found in a textbook, but it’s something I’ll always be grateful I learned.
I started to pray silently at school and vocally at night while doing homework and preparing for exams. I asked Heavenly Father to help me concentrate on my schoolwork and remember what I was learning. By the end of the school year, I’d dramatically increased my grades. But even more important, I’d learned that I should turn to Heavenly Father more when I need help in any area of my life. He does hear our prayers, and especially when we put forth the work, He will help us.

You know what makes me smile most? When Mama says she called me her little china doll—I was a baby then. I don’t remember much about that but I remember some kids saying, “Cindy, Cindy, Cindy, yeah, yeah, yeah,” and making funny faces, and Mama shooing them away and then holding me against her and crying. I don’t understand it yet.
I remember when a strange man came to our house when the chapel was finished. He was from Salt Lake.
“He’s an apostle of God,” Daddy told me. I stood and stared at him and pinched his arm until Mama pulled me away.
“Don’t bother Brother Kirkham, Cindy,” she said.
“It’s all right, Sister Abbott,” he said. His eyes twinkled and he lifted me onto his lap. He put one hand on my hand.
“Cindy’s no bother.” He smiled, and I felt something warm inside of me. “Brother and Sister Abbott, this spirit is so special in God’s eyes,” he went on, “that she was sent to earth for her mortal body in such a way that she cannot be tempted by this world. She will return to God as pure as she came. You have been chosen to take care of this special spirit. Try to understand her for she certainly holds hands with God.”
Mama didn’t cry as much after the apostle went away, and Daddy began to whistle. The children didn’t say, “Cindy, Cindy, Cindy, yeah, yeah, yeah” anymore. They took my hand and said, “Come and play with us, Cindy.”

I would like to tell you about a group of loud young men who came into my life when I was a young bishop in Seoul, Korea, many years ago. These were boys who lived in the neighborhood. Only one or two of them were members of the Church at the time. The boys who were members were the only members in their family. They were all friends, and they came to the church to play and to be together. They liked to play Ping-Pong during the weekdays, and they liked to have fun activities on Saturdays. Most of them were not good students in school and were considered by many to be troublemakers.
I was a young father of two sons, who were seven and nine years old at the time. I did not know what I could do for these young men. They were so rowdy that once my wife, Bon-Kyoung, asked me if we could move to another ward so that our sons could see good examples from other young men. I pondered and prayed to Heavenly Father to help me to find the way to help these young men. Finally I made the decision to try and teach them how they could change their lives.
A vision came upon my mind very clearly. I felt that if they were to become missionaries, their lives would be changed. From that moment on, I became very excited, and I tried to spend as much time as possible with them, teaching them the importance of missionary service and how to prepare for a mission.
At that time, Elder Seo, a full-time missionary, was transferred to our ward. He was one who had grown up in the Church and as an Aaronic Priesthood youth had participated in a young men’s singing group with his friends. He met those boisterous boys in our ward. Elder Seo taught those who were not members the missionary discussions, and he also taught them the songs he used to sing. He made a triple quartet with those loud boys and named them the Hanaro Quartet, which means “be as one.” They were happy to sing together, but we all needed “big” patience when we listened to their singing.
Our home was open to the members anytime they wanted to visit. The boys visited our home almost every weekend and even on some weekdays. We fed them and taught them. We taught them the principles of the gospel as well as the application of the gospel in their lives. We tried to give them a vision of their future life.
They sang together every time they came to our home. Their loud sound hurt our ears. But we always praised them because listening to them sing was far more enjoyable than seeing them get into trouble.
Through the years these activities continued. Most of these young men matured in the gospel, and a miracle happened. Over time, nine of the boys who were not members were baptized. They changed from loud, rowdy boys into valiant stripling warriors.
They served missions, met beautiful young sisters in the Church, and married in the temple. Of course, there were different challenges for each of them as they served missions, attended school, and got married, but they all stayed faithful because they wanted to obey their leaders and please the Lord. Now they have happy families with children born in the covenant.
Nine loud boys have become 45 active members in the Lord’s kingdom, including their wives and children. They are now leaders in their wards and stakes. One is a bishop, two serve in bishoprics, one is serving on the high council, and two are Young Men presidents. There is a ward mission leader, an executive secretary, and a seminary teacher. As a group, they still sing together, and the other miracle—they actually sound good!
Now, we have three of our own sons, including our youngest, who was born during the time I served as bishop. As our sons grew, those nine boys became the leaders of the ward and the stake, and they became the teachers and leaders of our sons. They taught our boys and other boys in the same way I taught them when they were troublemakers. They loved our young boys in the same way I loved them. These loud, rowdy boys of the past became our children’s heroes. Our sons liked to follow their great examples of becoming wonderful missionaries and getting married to righteous companions in the temple.

The patriarchal order runs from Abraham to Isaac and to Jacob. Through the line of the priesthood, it continues in our own day and time. Through the ages, blessings and promises were given from the fathers to their faithful sons. A modern example of this is taken from the life of Elder John B. Dickson of the Seventy. He recalls:
“When it was time for me to go on a mission, I was very excited to serve the Lord. Just before I was to leave, however, I found out that I had bone cancer. The chance of living long enough to serve a mission wasn’t very high. I had faith that the Lord would provide a way if He wanted me to go. My father gave me a blessing in which I was told that I would serve my mission in Mexico, serve in the Church all my life, and have a family. My right arm had to be amputated above the elbow, but my life was spared, and the promises I was given have all been fulfilled.
“Some would think that losing an arm would be a terrible burden, but it has been one of the greatest blessings in my life. I learned that it is very important to have challenges and to face up to them.”
Elder Dickson had always been right-handed, and now he had to learn to do everything left-handed. One struggle was learning how to tie his ties. He said: “One Sunday morning when I was in my bedroom with my tie in my hand, I thought, How am I going to tie this? I thought about getting a clip-on tie. I thought about asking Mom to help me. But I couldn’t take her with me on my mission just to tie my ties. So I decided I had to learn how to do it myself. I finally figured it out by using my teeth. I still do it that way, even after having tied it thousands of times.”

Many years ago it was my opportunity to serve as president of the Canadian Mission. There we had a branch with very limited priesthood. We always had a missionary presiding over the branch. I received a strong impression that we needed to have a member of the branch preside there.

We had one adult member in the branch who was a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood but who didn’t attend or participate enough to be advanced in the priesthood. I felt inspired to call him as the branch president. I shall always remember the day that I had an interview with him. I told him that the Lord had inspired me to call him to be the president of the branch. After much protest on his part, and much encouragement on the part of his wife, he indicated that he would serve. I ordained him a priest.

It was the beginning of a new day for that man. His life was quickly put in order, and he assured me that he would live the commandments as he was expected to live them. In a few months he was ordained an elder. He and his wife and family eventually went to the temple and were sealed. Their children served missions and married in the house of the Lord.