Gospel Story Finder

The events of that Christmas Eve took on added meaning for me the next year in the winter beauty of Utah Valley. Daddy had died during the preceding year, and no one really felt like holding to the family caroling tradition; emotions were still too close to the surface. So mother gathered us children together, and again we made a trip to the cemetery. We took with us a German wreath. Our family was alone this time; no one was there to hear our songs of Christ’s birth as we placed the wreath on daddy’s grave. Around us was a thick blanket of fog, shrouding us in its quiet mystery, and we could not see much beyond the edges of the cemetery—as if the world ended there.
But oh, what joy filled our hearts as we remembered we were celebrating Christmas, that because of the Savior the world is more than it was, that life does not end with the burial of the body, and that our loved one is not alone! There, in the cemetery, remembering daddy, we celebrated the birth of our Savior, our Hope, our Redeemer; and the peace of his message was a great salve for our loneliness.

At Christmastime Cynthia, Richard, Gerald, Mom, and Dad went to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. The children helped set up the stable like the one where Baby Jesus was born, sang Christmas carols, and opened presents.
A few days after Christmas, Dad said, “It’s time to go home.”
Grandpa and Grandma looked sad.
“Mommy,” Cynthia said, “why are Grandma and Grandpa so sad?”
“Because they will miss us when we go home.”
Cynthia went to find Grandma, who was helping Gerald pack his clothes.
“Grandma,” Cynthia said, “will you be happy if I leave some of my toys? You can play with them till we come back.”
“Thank you, honey,” said Grandma. “I will miss you, not your toys.” She gave Cynthia a big hug.
Cynthia wondered how she could help Grandma and Grandpa be happy. Suddenly she remembered how happy Dad was when Mom put notes in his lunch sack. She ran and whispered to Gerald and Richard and gave them each some pieces of paper. Richard sat on the floor and wrote and wrote and wrote. Gerald drew pictures because he was too little to write.
“Mommy,” said Cynthia, “how do you spell love?”
“L-o-v-e,” Mom told her.
When Cynthia finished writing, she tiptoed into the living room. She hid one of her notes on Grandpa’s chair. She put another note in the piano bench. She even put two in Grandma’s slippers under the couch. Then she tiptoed quietly out.
Richard waited in the hall until Grandpa left the kitchen. Then he scurried in and put one note in the cracker box, one on top of the forks, and one in an apron pocket. He also put notes in the refrigerator and the pantry.
Meanwhile, Gerald was in Grandma and Grandpa’s bedroom. He put all his picture-notes under their pillows for them to find when they went to bed.
Soon Dad and Mom were bundling them into their coats. “Kiss Grandma and Grandpa good-bye and get in the car!” said Dad.
Grandpa kept saying, “I’m going to miss all of you. I’m really going to miss you!” He looked like he was already missing them, and they hadn’t even gone yet!
Grandma kissed all the kids and Mom and Dad too. “Remember to write me,” she told them.
Cynthia, Richard, and Gerald started to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” asked Grandma.
“You’ll see,” Cynthia told her, grinning from ear to ear. “We left love notes for you all over the house.”

On one occasion a Church leader was confronted by a grieving parent who wanted one of God’s commandments softened to accommodate a wayward child who had been disciplined by the Church. In his grief the parent had suggested that the Church leader was unchristian in denying the child the full benefits of membership in the Church.

The Church leader shared the sorrow of the parents and the child, but he remained loyal to the commandments of the Lord. In response to the accusation of not being a Christian, the leader said, “If I were to attempt to change the commandments, at that very moment I would no longer be following Christ’s teachings.”

Jon Fuller is watching the horseshoeing demonstration when we catch up with him. He first heard about his Mormon Battalion ancestor in a general priesthood meeting talk. Jon was impressed with the story of a John Barnet Cole, who helped rescue a stranded handcart company and who had seen in a dream the woman he would marry. When he repeated the story to his mother, she told him that John Cole was his ancestor. Now, he is learning that his forefather was even more impressive than he had imagined. Jon sums it up: “He was pretty brave!”

As a child, Elder Morrison and his family attended church meetings of another denomination. When he moved in with his uncle’s family to attend high school, he attended Latter-day Saint meetings with them and then meetings at his church. An early-morning seminary teacher invited him to attend seminary, where he met Hannah Nyarko.
“She was very intelligent and would give great comments,” he said. “It really gave me the edge to want to study more.” After studying the Book of Mormon that year, he said, “I was ready for baptism.”

“Art time!” Miss Shirley said.
Brynn was excited. Art time was her favorite! They drew something new each class. Maybe today they would draw a slimy frog. Or a tall mountain. Or a pretty flower.
Brynn loved to draw!
“Art time will be special today,” Miss Shirley said. “We won’t all draw the same thing. You’ll each get to pick.”
Brynn smiled big. Maybe she could draw lots of different things!
“But there is one rule,” said Miss Shirley. “I want you to draw something you’re thankful for.”
What should I draw? Brynn thought. She reached into her backpack for her crayons. She was thankful for so many things! She was thankful for animals. And Mom and Dad. And the big, blue sky.
Then Brynn remembered something. It was something she learned in home evening last week. Mom said Jesus created the whole world. He made the oceans and mountains and flowers. He even made all the animals!
Then Brynn knew what she was thankful for most of all. She started drawing.
When they were done, everyone shared their drawings. There was an ice-cream cone. A family. A pair of skates.
Then it was Brynn’s turn. She walked to the front. She held her drawing up high.
“I’m thankful for Jesus,” she said.
Brynn had a warm feeling in her heart. It felt good to be thankful.

While living briefly in California, Elder Patrick Kearon stayed with “an outstanding” Latter-day Saint family who introduced him to the gospel.
Two years later, back home in England, he met missionaries on a London street and eventually began investigating the Church. He came upon a scripture in the Book of Mormon that read, “Men are that they might have joy” (2 Nephi 2:25). The scripture resonated with him as he recalled the joy in the home of that LDS family and in the lives of the missionaries teaching him.
“That scripture rang in my ears,” Elder Kearon says. “In those I had met, I saw how our lives can be enormously enriched by following the Savior’s counsel to be of good cheer.”
Since joining the Church on December 24, 1987, Elder Kearon has brought that good cheer to numerous callings, including ward Young Men president, bishop’s counselor, branch president, stake president, and Area Seventy.

He said that a granduncle of his, who was an abbot in the Catholic Church, had asked on his deathbed that Derteano gather the family’s genealogical records. Derteano promised to do so, although he thought that the request was only the irrational talk of a dying man. But he had made a promise, and so, after some time had passed, he began to research the Derteano records. He had to spend considerable time, effort, and money to gather the information. Many times he felt like abandoning the project. On one occasion, when he decided to stop the work, he dreamed his uncle came to him and reminded him of the promise.
He carried on the research for thirty years, locating Derteanos in many parts of the world. Apart from fulfilling a promise to a dying man, Derteano never knew why he was gathering the information. He said he was working blindly, hoping that some day he would understand the reason for it all.

I was enthralled with the surroundings as I hurried to catch up with the members of our tour group who were slowly walking up the steep, rocky path that led toward the top of the Mount of Olives. As we arrived and located a suitable spot near the top for our Sabbath day service, my heart was full of rejoicing and gratitude for the opportunity to stand on this sacred site. It was here where Jesus wept because of the wickedness of the inhabitants and the forthcoming fate of Jerusalem. Here was also where Jesus foretold the temple’s destruction and warned the Twelve about the calamities and forthcoming times of tribulation as they sat at his feet to be taught.

Several months ago, I had the opportunity to test an idea with two 14-year-old young women. I obtained copies of two actual ward council agendas and gave Emma and Maggie each a copy. I asked them to read over the agendas and see if there were any action items from the ward councils in which they might be able to be of service. Emma saw that a new family was moving into the ward, and she said she could help them move in and unpack. She thought she could befriend the children in the family and show them around their new school. She saw there was a ward dinner coming up and felt there were many different ways she could offer her services.

Maggie saw that there were several elderly people in the ward who needed visits and fellowshipping. She said she would love to visit with and be of help to these wonderful older members. She also felt she could help teach members of the ward how to set up and use social media accounts. There really wasn’t one thing on those agendas with which those two young women could not help!

Watoy paused under the colorful Filipino flag outside his school before heading inside.
“Good morning, class,” his teacher said. “It’s time for our morning prayer.”
All around him, Watoy’s friends each touched their foreheads, chests, and shoulders to form the shape of a cross. Then they recited the prayer they always said at the beginning of class. As usual, Watoy didn’t join them. Instead, he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and said his own silent prayer. He prayed about different things each time, the way he was taught to pray at home and in Primary.
When he finished and looked up, he saw that his teacher was watching him with a confused expression on her face.
“May I talk to you after school?” she said.
Watoy swallowed and nodded. Was he in trouble?
When classes had ended for the day, Watoy’s teacher walked over to him.
“I see that you never cross yourself or recite our morning prayer,” she said. “Will you please tell me why?”
Watoy breathed a sigh of relief. His teacher wasn’t upset, just curious! He thought about how to answer.
“Well,” he began, “in my church, when we pray, we talk to Heavenly Father about many different things. And the cross reminds us of when Jesus died. But Jesus is not dead. He lives!”
His teacher thought about this for a moment and then nodded slowly.
“Thank you for sharing this with me,” she said.
As Watoy walked to football practice, he felt warm and good inside. He liked teaching others about Jesus Christ.

The first and most important truth about navigating this journey is that you are not alone. Heavenly Father and the Savior will always strengthen us as we turn to Them. There were times when Kay was struggling so much, and I (Stephen) was so exhausted. She didn’t know who I was for three years, and every day was painful. Sometimes I look back and wonder how I managed to get through those difficult times, and then I realize I was only able to endure the pain by fully relying on the Savior (see Matthew 11:28–29).

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is relatively young in New Caledonia. Unlike French Polynesia, which was reached by LDS missionaries in 1844, New Caledonia’s introduction to the Church came only a few decades ago when Polynesian members came to Nouméa to work. Among them was a young Tahitian named Teahumanu Manoï. His story, and how he came to be New Caledonia’s first district president, is also the story of the Church’s beginnings there. His successors—first Ricardo Gaya, a European, and now Abel Seiko, a Melanesian—represent the next chapters.
Teahumanu Manoï joined the Church in Tahiti on 24 May 1954. It was no coincidence that he was married the same day. Térotí would not have married him otherwise. Her parents were members of the Church, and she was baptized at age eight. Determined not to marry unless it was to another Church member, Térotí worked hard to convince Teahumanu to investigate the Church.
Brother Manoï resisted at first because his father was president of the Protestant church in Tahiti, but he loved Térotí and began reading some material she gave him. His conversion came when he read in the Doctrine and Covenants about tithing. An unpaid clergy leading a congregation that supported their church through the payment of tithes seemed to Teahumanu much more Christlike than what he saw in other churches. “Christ’s service was free,” he observes. “So why shouldn’t the service of His servants also be free?”

Although Talica has fun at school, she is also a dedicated student. In class, her hand goes up almost automatically when the teacher asks a question. Once when she scored seventh in her class on an exam, she decided that next time she would finish first or second. She studied hard during and after school, and on the next exam she finished second. She receives a well-rounded education in return for her devotion. Students not only learn academic subjects but begin each day with a prayer, attend religion class, and tend a garden plot.

Going into my senior year of high school, I had to make the decision whether or not I would play football. The previous year I’d decided not to play because of the rough environment on the football team. But I felt that in my senior year I could have some sort of influence on my teammates. So after a lot of prayer and a lot of thought, I decided to play.
As the season began, the same doubts I’d had about playing the year before returned. The conversations among teammates were often inappropriate, and I felt alone a lot of the time. I kept praying that I could be an influence for good, but I couldn’t see how I was making any difference to my teammates. This continued until the last game of the season. Our team played hard, but we lost and finished the season with a losing record.
I walked into the locker room, packed up my stuff, and headed for the bus, feeling like a failure. As I walked, one of my teammates ran up beside me. We started talking about the game and the season and then he said something I didn’t expect. He told me that he appreciated my kindness to him and the rest of the team throughout the season. He said that no matter what, he knew I would be kind to him and the others on the team.
As we rode the bus back to our school, I looked with a new perspective on the past few months. I realized that the feelings of failure I’d felt had been worth the feelings of success that I was having now. I knew that even if it was for only one person on my team, I had made a difference.

I guess I wouldn’t be out of order to tell you a little interesting experience that happened to me. Before I left on my mission I lived right across the street from the sheriff of Salt Lake City. He was a wonderful, law-abiding citizen, and he made me more so. When I came home, I sold my house, and moved just around the corner about the same distance away. One day while I was observing construction on my home, which is on a little hill with quite an incline, I pulled the car up, parked it, and got out and walked around to head up to the house. Suddenly the car started roiling backwards downhill, and there were several little children playing at the bottom. I panicked, as any parent would, and ran around and opened the car door. It was rolling fairly fast now. I got halfway in, and the momentum of the car upended me and threw me down on the street. I got my leg in, trying to pump a brake that wouldn’t pump, because it’s all power steering with power brakes so that nothing worked. I knew I had to divert the path of that car. To make matters more challenging, the car door banged on my leg; with a real prayer on my lips, I somehow got the strength to turn the wheel to divert its path. In doing so, it crossed the street, jumped the curb, and I pruned—and I mean pruned—the sheriff’s prize maple tree. I really leveled it. The car went over the tree and through his back fence and came to a stop in his rose garden.

Now, here’s the scene. You’ve got a runaway car with a General Authority on his back in a rose garden. The sheriff looked over the hood of the car and said, “Paul, what in the world are you doing?”

And I couldn’t think of anything any better than this. I said, “Sheriff, I’m your new home teacher.”

Well, now, that is not the way to warn a neighbor. I don’t think the Lord had that in mind, but rather to share feeling and concern and to give help.

It was almost a month before Emily Smith, 17, who had stayed with relatives, was reunited with her immediate family in Slidell. “Even though we were together, dealing with the destruction was depressing,” she recalls. “All of the downed trees, water-soaked furniture, and ruined clothes piling up in people’s yards—it could get to you. Some of the places where we used to hang out had vanished like they never existed.” Now, 9 months after the storm, things are slowly getting back to normal. “Each day it seems a little better,” Emily says. She and her friends are back in school, back in seminary, and finding new places to have fun.

I caught the vision of family history by realizing I’m not so different from my ancestors. My great-grandma and I have always had a really special connection, so for a Personal Progress project, I decided to compose a family history book dedicated to her. Writing this book was such an amazing experience because it created a closer bond to my ancestors. I’m so grateful for this new perspective of family history work.
Ashley N., 16, Utah, USA

This story happened in the USA.
Ryan closed the last envelope and grinned. His birthday was almost here, and he couldn’t wait to invite his friends to his party! Mom had helped him make invitations with rocket ships and stars. He was sure it would be the best birthday ever.
The first friend Ryan wanted to invite was Chad. Chad was really nice, and Ryan always had fun with him. Sometimes Chad stumbled over his words, and he wasn’t very good at sports. But Ryan didn’t mind. Chad was good at other things. He liked to make tiny origami animals by folding paper. One time he made Ryan a little bear. Ryan kept it on the dresser in his room.
Ryan walked to Chad’s house and gave him an invitation. “It’s for my birthday party on Saturday,” he said. “I hope you can come!”
Chad smiled big. “Thank you. I’ll b-be there.”
Before Ryan left, Chad showed him his new origami. He had deer, chipmunks, squirrels, and owls—a whole forest of tiny paper animals. It was so cool!
Next, Ryan found Ty and Braden at Ty’s house. He gave them each an invitation.
“Who else is coming?” Ty asked.
“I’m inviting Alex, Matt, Jacob, and Chad.”
“Ugh,” Braden said. “Why are you inviting Chad? He’s weird.”
Ryan froze. “Because he’s my friend.”
“Well, he’s not our friend,” Ty said. “If Chad’s coming, I’m not.”
“Me neither,” Braden said.
Ryan walked back home. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted Ty and Braden to come to his party, but he also wanted Chad to come.
When he got home, he told Mom what happened.
“I’m sorry they feel that way,” Mom said. “It sounds like they haven’t given themselves a chance to get to know Chad. What do you think you should do?”
Ryan was quiet for a minute. Mom and Dad had taught him that when he needed help, the Holy Ghost could guide him. They said it was like a quiet voice you could feel in your heart.
Ryan said a silent prayer. Heavenly Father, what should I do?
When he thought about Ty and Braden, he felt nervous and a little sad. But when he thought about inviting Chad, he felt calm and happy. He knew the Holy Ghost was telling him that inviting Chad was a good choice.
On Saturday, Ryan helped Dad set up games to play in the backyard. Mom set out Ryan’s favorite snacks, popcorn and pretzels. One by one, Ryan’s friends arrived.
Ty and Braden didn’t come. But Ryan had lots of fun with his other friends. Chad even showed them how to make origami. They all went home with their own paper animal.
It really was the best birthday ever! Ryan felt happy and grateful.
Ryan gave Chad a high-five. “Thanks for coming!” he said. “I’m glad we’re friends.”
Chad smiled back. “Me too.”
How did the Holy Ghost help Ryan?
Illustrations by Colleen Madden

Jennette Evans McKay, mother of our ninth prophet, David Oman McKay, had sacrificed a great deal to make it possible for her husband to go on a mission. When the mission call arrived in the mail, Jennette and David had three living children, and a fourth—Annie—was to be born very soon. They owned a large farm that required a lot of work, and they had just saved up enough money to remodel their home and add on more bedrooms.
David was hesitant to leave his wife with so much responsibility, but Jennette said, “Of course you will go! David O. and I will manage quite nicely.”
After her husband left for Scotland, Jennette McKay had the ward priesthood quorums do her spring planting, and she spent a lot of time teaching her young children how to run the farm. They milked the cows, fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, and helped harvest their precious crops. And after swearing everyone who knew about it to secrecy, Jennette had their home remodeled without telling her husband in any of her letters to him. She made the kitchen and dining room larger and added several new bedrooms. She was especially proud of the new indoor staircase, which led to the children’s bedrooms upstairs. Now she would no longer have to wrap up warmly on cold winter nights, go outside, climb a ladder, and crawl through a window to tuck her children in bed at night.
When Jennette’s husband returned from his mission, he could not believe his eyes as he toured the home and saw the many improvements. The farm, the home, and, of course, the children had been well taken care of by Jennette McKay.