Gospel Story Finder

That fall, Joseph’s parents traveled south to Harmony. Nearly two months had passed since Joseph left their home in Manchester, and they had heard nothing from him. They worried the summer’s tragedies had devastated him. In a matter of weeks, he had lost his first child, nearly lost his wife, and lost the manuscript pages. They wanted to make sure he and Emma were well.
Less than a mile from their destination, Joseph Sr. and Lucy were overjoyed to see Joseph standing in the road ahead of them, looking calm and happy. He told them about losing the confidence of God, repenting of his sins, and receiving the revelation. The Lord’s rebuke had stung him, but like prophets of old he wrote the revelation down for others to read. It was the first time he had ever recorded the Lord’s word to him.
Joseph also told his parents that Moroni had since returned the plates and interpreters. The angel seemed pleased, Joseph recounted. “He told me that the Lord loved me for my faithfulness and humility.”
The record was now safely stowed in the house, hidden in a trunk. “Emma writes for me now,” Joseph told them, “but the angel said that the Lord would send someone to write for me, and I trust that it will be so.”7

Rachel Hannah Leatham (1884–1979) became the second woman to be included in the Church’s official conference report when she spoke at an outdoor overflow meeting of general conference on April 5, 1908.
She was among the first generation of unmarried women to serve a proselyting mission for the Church. When she was 22, she was assigned to serve in the Colorado Mission in September 1906.
Upon her return to Salt Lake City in 1908, Sister Leatham volunteered as a guide at the Temple Square Bureau of Information. The bureau had opened in 1902 to provide accurate information and distribute Church literature to those who visited Temple Square.
During this era, general conference was held in the Tabernacle on Temple Square. When the Tabernacle was full, attendees were directed to overflow meetings in the nearby Assembly Hall. When the Assembly Hall was full, people congregated on the lawn near the Bureau of Information Building, where services for the overflow meeting of conference were conducted.
This message is an excerpt of the talk Sister Leatham gave at the general conference overflow meeting on April 5, 1908. Punctuation and capitalization standardized.

Do you know what it means to minister? Think about this question while I tell you about a girl named Chy Johnson.
When Chy started high school last year, she became the victim of cruel and thoughtless bullying. She was mistreated, shoved, and taunted as she walked to class—some students even threw garbage at her. You have probably seen people mistreated like this in your school too.
For too many people, the teenage years are a time of loneliness and fear. It doesn’t have to be this way. Fortunately for Chy, there were young men at her school who understood what it means to minister.
Chy’s mother had asked teachers at the school to help stop the bullying, but it continued. She then contacted Carson Jones, an Aaronic Priesthood holder and the starting quarterback of the football team. She asked him to help her find out who was doing the bullying.
Carson agreed to help, but in his heart he felt that he could do much more than just identify the bullies. The Spirit whispered to him that he needed to help Chy feel loved.
Carson asked some of his teammates to join him in ministering to Chy. They invited her to sit with them during lunch. They walked her to class to make sure she was safe. Not surprisingly, with football players as her close friends, no one bullied Chy anymore.
This was an exciting season for the football team. But even with the thrill of an undefeated season, these young men did not forget about Chy. They invited her to join the team on the field after games. Chy felt loved and appreciated. She felt safe. She was happy.
The football team went on to win the state title. But something more important than a football championship happened at their school. The example of these young men has motivated other students to be more accepting, more friendly. They now treat each other with more kindness and respect.
National news media found out what these young men had done and shared their story across the country. What began as an effort to minister to one is inspiring thousands of others to do the same.
Chy’s mother calls these young men “angels in disguise.” Carson and his friends are quick to say that Chy has blessed their lives much more than they blessed hers. That’s what happens when you lose yourself in serving others—you find yourself.2 You change and grow in ways that would not be possible otherwise. These young men have experienced the joy of ministering and continue to seek opportunities to bless others. They are anxious to extend their ministering in the coming months when they serve as full-time missionaries.3

My parents had nine children—eight sons and a daughter. The only girl died as a small child in World War II during the battle of Okinawa. Following the war, my father established a successful automotive repair shop in Nago, located in the northern part of the main island of Okinawa. In 1954, when my youngest brother was 2 and my oldest brother was 17, our father died, and my mother became a widow at the age of 40. Mother could not accept Father’s death. Sometimes, in her sorrow, she wanted to follow after him, but she had eight boys she could not leave behind.

Up until that time, my mother, Haru, had relied upon our father to be the breadwinner; but having lost him, she was now forced to work. She tried to forget her sorrow by working and then coming home and caring for her children. She struggled to raise her eight rowdy boys alone. When I was old enough to understand, I realized I never knew when my mother got up or when she went to sleep.

Ann was always in a hurry. Wherever she went, she ran. But Ann didn’t always watch where she was going. Sometimes she tripped and bumped into things.
“Look out!” said her big sister.
“Look out!” said her big brother.
“Look out!” said her mother and father.
One day Ann ran to the kitchen. “The apples are ripe on our apple tree!” she shouted.
“Yes,” said Mother. “I was just thinking about making an apple pie.”
“I can help,” said Ann. “I can pick some apples.”
“Good,” said Mother.
Ann ran to the door.
“Don’t forget this,” said Mother, handing her a bucket.
Ann raced into the yard, climbed the tree, and hung her bucket on a branch. Just picking the big red apples made her mouth water.
“Here they are, Mom,” said Ann, rushing into the house. “I’ll wash them for you too.”
“Thank you, dear,” Mother said. “That would really help.”
Mother made one big pie for the family and one little pie for Grandma.
“I’ll take Grandma her pie,” said Ann after the pies were baked and cooled.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mother replied. “But please, Ann, walk slowly and watch where you’re going.”
Ann was so excited that she could hardly wait to surprise her grandmother. She started walking slowly, but soon she was running up the street and around the corner. Faster and faster Ann ran, until—squish—down she went and down went the pie.
The pie was a mess and so was Ann! She had pie on her face and pie in her hair. Worst of all, there was pie all over the ground.
Ann tried to scoop up the pie and put it back into the pan, but it didn’t look like pie anymore. It looked awful!
Maybe Mom can fix it, she thought, starting back toward home. This time she walked slowly, very carefully holding what was left of the poor, squashed pie.
“Oops!” cried her big sister when she saw Ann coming down the street.
“Oops!” shouted her big brother as Ann came up the sidewalk.
“Oops, indeed!” said Mother. The pie went into the garbage, and Ann went into the bathtub.
When Ann was all cleaned up, she ran to the kitchen and stared at the big pie that was left. She was really sorry that she had ruined Grandma’s surprise pie. “Mom, could I give Grandma my piece of pie?” she asked.
Mother smiled and said, “That’s very thoughtful, dear.” She cut an extra large piece of pie, put it on a plate, covered it with foil, and handed it to Ann, saying, “Now, Ann, you must learn that there is a time to walk and a time to run.”
“This is a time to walk—I’ll remember,” Ann promised.
Up the street and around the corner she walked. “Surprise!” called Ann when Grandma opened the door. “Surprise, surprise!”
“Mmmm, that looks good,” Grandma said as she took off the cover and put the piece of pie on the table.
Ann told Grandma the sad story about her little pie. “There was pie in my hair and pie on my nose and pie on the ground and pie on my clothes.”
Grandma laughed. “Goodness, you just made a rhyme. Now, this is such a large piece of pie, maybe you can help me eat it.”
Ann smiled. “I’d like that.”
They each had a glass of milk and half of the large piece of pie. It was delicious.
When Ann was ready to leave, Grandma told her, “Be sure to tell your mother that I loved the surprise.”
“Thank you, Grandma, for sharing your pie with me,” said Ann.
“Everything is better when we share,” Grandma said.
Ann hugged Grandma and said, “It really is, Grandma.”

Sometimes a daughter can rescue a parent in times of storm when she cares enough to help. I know a family with a dad who has had to move from job to job. In his kind of work, everyone is getting laid off. One day his turn came. He might have come home and called his wife into the other room and said, “My dear, we don’t have enough money to pay the bills, and I know how much Julie wants that expensive sweater. I told her we would try to get it for her. I don’t want to disappoint her. What am I going to do?” There might be some teenage daughters who would have said, “But all of the other kids get new things. We deserve it. Besides, Dad promised.”
But that wasn’t the way it happened. Dad came home. He didn’t have to say anything. Julie and her sister knew. Julie didn’t say, “Dad what are you going to do?” Her mom told me that she put her arm around his shoulder and said, “Oh Dad, we can help.” How do you think her dad felt? Do you have any idea how her mom must have felt?
Since that time Julie has been working two jobs, twelve hours a day, to pay for her tuition to college this fall. On the day her twelve-year-old brother would not be able to go to camp because he had no suitable pants to wear, Julie received her pay from both jobs. Her mom told me that she held out the money for her tithing, held back the portion she must save each week for her college tuition, and had enough left to take her brother shopping for the much needed pants. How do you think her brother felt? Do you have any idea how Julie must have felt?

Thursday’s activities included a treasure hunt that lasted several hours and figured as the high point of the trip for many of the boys. Patrols used clues provided by leaders to guide them from point to point around the island. Because the clues were written very subtly the boys’ powers of observation were sharpened, and whether they had to identify the bleached bones of a beached whale or an old cabin used by one of the early penal officers, they gained a new appreciation for the island and its inhabitants.

I sat with my mother-in-law on her porch one morning. She said something that was so meaningful to me. For the first time in my life, I heard the Spirit testifying to me that Heavenly Father really existed.
“When you know Heavenly Father is really there,” she said, “everything changes.”
From there, everything did change! My testimony grew as I sought to know more. Now I know when the Spirit speaks to me. I know that sweet feeling when He is near.

My mom passed away when I was 12. That’s when I started to have questions about what happens to families after this life. The priest at the church I attended told me that when we die, we will not have families. He said I will see my mother again, but I will not recognize her as my mom, and she will not recognize me as her daughter.
That was not the answer I had hoped for. I continued attending church with my family, but my questions persisted. I also wondered, “Where are the prophets? Where are the Apostles?”

A related strength that can be corrupted to our downfall is a desire to excel in a Church calling. I remember a graduate student who used his Church service as a means of escape from the rigors of his studies. He went beyond what we call Church-service time and became almost a full-time Church-service worker. He consistently volunteered for every extra assignment, giving help that was greatly appreciated in the various organizations and activities of the Church. As a result of this inordinate allocation of time, he failed in his studies and then mistakenly blamed his failure on the excessive burden of Church service. His strength became his downfall.

I want to thank you for the article “Why Am I Running?” in the January 1991 issue. I am a 27-year-old male who is currently serving a prison term. I am here as a direct result of “running.”
As a teenager I became too concerned about what others thought of me. I began to do things that were not socially acceptable. By the time I was an adult my free agency belonged to those I was constantly trying to impress.
I am trying to return to the gospel, but old habits die hard. Please use your agency wisely. The road back is tough, so stay on the straight and narrow path.
K. T.Clallam Bay Corrections Center, Washington

That difference also characterized several hundred members from the Riverton Utah North Stake, who averaged more than fifteen ordinances per family for their ancestors in the Jordan River (Utah) Temple in two days.

For the Riverton Utah North Stake, the challenge to take an ancestor to the temple came from the Jordan River Temple presidency. The stake presidency decided to use two days for the work—the youth would come on 29 December 1987 to be baptized for their ancestors, and the adults would come the following day for initiatory work, endowments, and sealings. That way, the temple would not be overly congested. The goal: that every temple recommend holder in the stake would do work for their kindred dead by the end of the year.

President Duane B. Williams says that they were actually fairly well prepared. “The main reason we were able to undertake this challenge successfully was because the stake and wards were already participating in the Church family history program. A couple were serving as stake family history specialists, and each ward had a couple as ward family history consultants. Furthermore, the ward Sunday Schools offered the family history class.”

The high priests group leaders and family history consultants attended priesthood quorum, Relief Society, and Young Men and Young Women meetings to discuss the challenge and to describe the program: how to fill out the records, when to submit them, and what the schedule would be on the stake ancestral temple days. The consultants also kept up personal contact with ward members, visiting them in their homes to help with the work.

The stake also held a family-history clinic one Saturday. The purpose was to provide hands-on experience in finding information and filling out forms.

The results were astounding. More than 160 families attended the temple on December 29 and 30. Stake members completed over 2,500 ordinances in two days—all for their kindred dead. The outpouring of the Spirit was immeasurable. Many Saints felt their ancestors’ presence during the ordinances. One woman, for example, recounted that she had felt the arm of one of her ancestors encircling her; she was nearly overwhelmed by a great outpouring of love. Many testified that they had never felt such complete peace before.

Because of the experience, many other members in the stake began to prepare to go to the temple. One bishop reported that at tithing settlement, one day after the temple excursion, two couples who had not had temple recommends for some time paid their tithing in full so they could once again attend the temple. They said they did not want to be excluded from the temple work they had heard so much about.

Joseph permitted teachers to use the large upper room to conduct their classes. However, the boisterousness of some students frequently disturbed the clerks, who were often at work writing the history of the Church. One of the Prophet’s sons, Joseph Smith III, recalled: “As schoolboys we had good reason to remember Doctor Willard Richards [one of the clerks], for often in going down the stairway from the schoolroom we were noisy, which seemed to annoy him considerably. Upon one or two occasions he met us at the foot of the stairs and refused to let us pass, the while he cautioned us to be more quiet. Doubtless we were annoying as we trampled and jostled, crowding the steps and surging through the door. He especially scolded the larger children. We learned it was better to go quietly than to cause such real distress” (Mary Audentia Smith Anderson and Bertha Audentia Anderson Hulmes, eds., Joseph Smith III and the Restoration, Independence, Missouri: Herald Publishing House, 1952, p. 28).

Some years ago a wonderful young man named Curtis was called to serve a mission. He was the kind of missionary every mission president prays for. He was focused and worked hard. At one point he was assigned a missionary companion who was immature, socially awkward, and not particularly enthusiastic about getting the work done.

One day, while they were riding their bicycles, Curtis looked back and saw that his companion had inexplicably gotten off his bike and was walking. Silently, Curtis expressed his frustration to God; what a chore it was to be saddled with a companion he had to drag around in order to accomplish anything. Moments later, Curtis had a profound impression, as if God were saying to him, “You know, Curtis, compared to me, the two of you aren’t all that different.” Curtis learned that he needed to be patient with an imperfect companion who nonetheless was trying in his own way.

When President Russell M. Nelson presented the new program of goals for children and youth, I set goals to run, be a good friend, and make my prayers better. I gave my testimony in sacrament meeting that I know that if I do this program, Heavenly Father will help me.
Gonzalo L., age 7, Buenos Aires, Argentina

“I thought for a moment she was an angel because she knew my name. I had not realized that a small card with my name on it had been placed on the lapel of my suit coat.”

Sharing was not just a one-time thing for the Taylorsville Fourth Ward Young Women (Taylorsville Utah West Stake). They made it happen all year long and culminated their efforts in an Evening for Sharing.

Such events are suggested as part of the Young Women calendar each year. “One of the great rewards of accomplishment comes when a song, a talent, a thought, a few moments of time, an experience, or something created can be shared. Many things are of little worth until they are shared.” (Behold Thy Handmaiden, Guidelines for Adult Leaders, p. 8.) The idea is to provide young women in their own wards and stakes with opportunities to share what they have accomplished throughout the past year.

The young women themselves were the planners and did all the work for their Evening for Sharing. They decided that they would like to share their love for life, family, country, and church and created presentations of music, dance, readings, and displays. During the presentations, each class president gave a special award and thanked her adviser for all she had done for their class. Also, awards and gifts were given to the bishopric, Young Women president, secretary, and the sister who served on the service and activities committee. A gift was also given to the second-year Laurels who were leaving the program.

Pictures had been taken of the combined activities and service projects that had taken place throughout the year. Each class took pictures and kept mementos of their own special events. Such collections were displayed on tables around the cultural hall. The tables showed the end result of some of the goals the girls had set in each of the six areas of focus. They also showed hobbies, talents, and contributions the girls had made in other areas such as school, home, church, and community.

Christie Gailey, the Laurel class president, said, “It was good to see how everyone helped to make it a special night and also how everyone got a chance to do what they wanted to do.”

Jana Packer, a Mia Maid, felt that “it gave us a chance to look at other hobbies and talents, and if we wanted to learn how to do some things, we could ask them to show us.”

Beehive JoLynn Stewart said, “Our class likes to dance and have fun, and we really liked being able to make up our own dance for the program. I didn’t think we were going to make it in time, but we did. It was fun.”

“It made me feel really good inside to be able to give a tribute to my mother on the program,” said Melissa Hemsley.

There are many different ways of sharing. Girls can share silently by quietly and unboisterously serving, befriending, building, and setting a good example; or girls can share outwardly by bearing their testimony and by sharing the gospel wherever they are. They can share by making food or articles and then giving them as gifts to someone who needs them. Or they can share by demonstrating a music, art, or literary talent. There is no end to the ways a girl can share. In Taylorsville, young women shared their time and talents for more than just one evening; that one evening was just simple recognition for hundreds of hours of thoughtful service.

“Wake up, girls. The neighbor just came with a message that we need to go to the ranch right away.”
Mom’s voice was quiet but filled with urgency. We were in the process of moving to a ranch several miles away, and Dad was living there by himself until we could join him.
“Why do we have to go to the ranch?” I thought. But the reason for going didn’t really matter as I pulled my nine-year-old body into the pickup truck and went back to sleep.
As Mom pulled the truck up to the house I woke up and saw Dad coming out. He went to Mom and in a low voice told her something that made her gasp, then cry. What was it? There was a stillness in the air that seemed to shout at me, a deathly stillness. My heart began to beat a little faster though I couldn’t understand why.
We walked into the house to find Grandpa seated on the couch. Why was he here, and where was Grandma? Suddenly I knew, without being told, why the stillness was so empty and why my grandfather was sitting there without my grandmother. I found myself hoping against hope that I was wrong.
The next few minutes were spent in listening to my father call the mortuary (a foreign word to me) and trying to get rid of the big lump in my throat. I wasn’t going to cry; I was simply scared. Soon Dad took us upstairs to put us to bed. I silently waited for what was coming, still hoping I was wrong.
“Girls, something happened to your grandma today. She was in a car accident, and she was killed. We won’t see her anymore.”
Simple, quiet, direct, and powerful. Oh, how powerful! I started crying but not just for the loss of my grandmother. Something more consuming had entered my mind. The lump returned to my throat and my heart began to beat even faster.
Was she really dead? Of course she was. But was she really? What was death? Could she feel anything now? Could she see me thinking about her? Was she just floating in space? I couldn’t imagine her life just ending and nothing more. Something inside me told me it wasn’t right for death to be so permanent. I imagined myself dying, and panic seized me. It didn’t seem possible that when I died I wouldn’t feel, hear, think, smell, see, or anything. The thought was unbearable to me, and I slammed a door against my fear, locking it away.

I love to read! Reading is one of my favorite hobbies. When I was in second grade, I began reading bigger chapter books of all different genres. Now I read every spare moment that I can! I read in the morning, when I finish my work at school early, and on the way to violin lessons. Sometimes I even sneak a book under my covers to read after bedtime.

When I was in my teens, I used to wonder what it felt like to hear the voice of the Lord. I thought that Moses, Isaiah, John the Baptist, and especially Joseph Smith were highly favored, and I wished that I might hear also. I was not being sacrilegious. It was an honest desire. I knew quite well that unless I had a special calling that required it, the Lord would not favor me with his personal attention. Voices from heaven are few in recorded history.
The answer to this desire was quite as dramatic to me as had been the one I received about Nephi and his brethren. One day about ten years ago (when I was age sixty-four), I was reading section 18 of the Doctrine and Covenants. I read these words:
“These words are not of men nor of man, but of me; wherefore, you shall testify they are of me and not of man;
“For it is my voice which speaketh them unto you; for they are given by my Spirit unto you, and by my power you can read them one to another; and save it were by my power you could not have them;
“Wherefore, you can testify that you have heard my voice, and know my words.” (D&C 18:34–36.)
Here the Lord was telling the twelve apostles, five years before the quorum was organized, that when they read his words, they were hearing his voice. It was as though the heavens were opened and everything was revealed that was given to any of the prophets who ever wrote. Ever since then the Doctrine and Covenants has had a new meaning for me. I am hearing as well as reading, and clearly the voice of the Lord rings in my heart. I have always read and enjoyed the uplifting quality of this great book. But now things are different. Now I read with awe and wonderment.