Gospel Story Finder

Recently my magnificent 92-year-old mother passed away. She left this mortal existence as she had lived—quietly. Her life was not what she had planned. Her husband, my father, passed away when he was 45, leaving her with three children—me and my two brothers. She lived 47 years as a widow. She supported our family by teaching school during the day and teaching piano lessons at night. She cared for her aging father, my grandfather, who lived next door. She made sure that each of us received a college education. In fact, she insisted on it so that we could be “contributors.” And she never complained. She kept her covenants, and because she did, she called down the powers of heaven to bless our home and to send miracles. She relied on the power of prayer, priesthood, and covenant promises. She was faithful in her service to the Lord. Her steadfast devotion steadied us, her children. She often repeated the scripture: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.” That was her motto, and she knew it was true. She understood what it meant to be a covenant keeper. She was never recognized by the world. She didn’t want that. She understood who she was and whose she was—a daughter of God. Indeed, it can be said of our mother that she acted well her part.

When my parents were married they went on a little car trip for their honeymoon. They decided that they were going to have this family and they needed to know how to take care of their family. My mother was always one who was a planner. So, on a paper sack she started taking notes of their conversation. She said, "What is our family going to be like? What do we want them to accomplish? Do we want our children to be married in the temple? Do we want our children to serve missions? Do we want our children to receive a university education?" And my father on his honeymoon agreed to everything. He even said they should all take piano lessons. So then they said, "Well, in order to do that then we'll have home evening, and we'll have scripture study. We'll go to church every week; we will accept callings and serve. We will teach them the gospel to the best of our ability." When my mother came to the idea of education, my father said, I believe in education but I'm a poor man. So she wrote down "work." "We'll have to teach them to work."

And those principles started to emerge in their family and come into operation in their lives. They didn't know their family would grow to include ten children. They didn't know they would be in the university business for 25 years, and by then the grandchildren were starting to come and get into universities. They didn't know the effort it would take to send out six missionaries, to prepare ten children for temple marriages, and then as the grandchildren came, 65 of them, they felt their responsibility increased. But I have always been touched by that story of my parents who upon making a covenant with the Lord got to work making a plan for how to multiply, replenish, subdue, have dominion, to dress and keep in their family because they had this vision of a fruitful, abundant harvest.

Jackeline Martinez Roman of the Colon Ward, Quito Ecuador Colon Stake, was recently selected as second runner-up in the Miss Quito contest, part of the annual celebration of Ecuador’s capital. She was nominated by her employers. Jackeline, along with the girls selected as Miss Quito and first runner-up, will spend time during the year raising funds for the elderly and underprivileged and attending activities sponsored by the city.
Jackeline hopes her new position will offer some good opportunities for missionary work. In fact, Miss Quito and the first runner-up have already asked about the Church and its beliefs, and Jackeline was happy to explain.
Although born in Ecuador, Jackeline lived for nine years in Maryland in the United States, where she attended school. She has served as seminary president and as a teacher in the Primary and Sunday School, and she is presently serving as Primary secretary.

Would you like to hear about a missionary who was prompted to make a wise choice? He was new in the work and was assigned to labor in the city of Oshawa, Ontario, Canada, with a veteran missionary as a companion. They called at the home of a family by the name of Pollard. They knocked, and Mr. Pollard let them in. He invited them to present their material. After he had heard their message, and after he had prayed with them, it seemed as though the spirit of the adversary came over him, and he became angry with the elders and told them to leave and never come back again. As he showed them to the door, he said, “You can’t tell me that you really believe Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, anyway.” The door slammed shut. The two dejected missionaries walked away.

This young missionary turned to his senior companion and said, “We didn’t answer Mr. Pollard’s question.”

The senior companion explained the futility of attempting to return. But the young elder said, “I’m going back. I won’t feel right until I do.”

They returned to Mr. Pollard’s door and knocked on it. He opened the door and said, “I thought I told you fellows to leave.”

The next decision took all the strength of character and all the fortitude that this young man could muster, for his senior companion did not give him much help. I heard Mr. Pollard himself describe the experience. He said, “That missionary looked me in the eye. He hesitated for a moment, and then said, ‘Mr. Pollard, as we left your home, you made a statement that we really didn’t believe Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. Mr. Pollard, I want you to know that I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, and that this work is true.’”

After this declaration, the missionaries departed. Mr. Pollard later told me that all the rest of the day and that evening he kept hearing those words echoing through his ears: “I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I know it. I know it. I know it.”

The next morning he telephoned the missionaries and asked them to come back. They returned to his home and taught him the gospel. They taught his wife the gospel. They taught his children the gospel. All became members of the Church. If you could have accompanied me to the district conference I attended a few years back and heard this man stand on his feet and thank his Heavenly Father for the choice that a young missionary made to return and to bear his witness, you, my brothers and sisters, would be forever anxious to “choose the right when a choice is placed before you.”

On a December night in 1982, my wife, Terry, and I were awakened by a phone call to our home in Pocatello, Idaho. As I answered the phone, I heard only sobbing. Finally, my sister’s struggling voice said, “Tommy is dead.”
A 20-year-old drunk driver, speeding at more than 85 miles (135 km) per hour, recklessly ran a stoplight in a suburb of Denver, Colorado. He crashed violently into the car driven by my youngest brother, Tommy, instantly killing him and his wife, Joan. They were returning home to a young daughter after a Christmas party.
My wife and I immediately flew to Denver and made our way to the mortuary. We gathered with my parents and siblings and grieved the loss of our beloved Tommy and Joan. We had lost them to a senseless criminal act. Our hearts were broken, and anger toward the young offender began to well up inside me.
Tommy had served as a lawyer in the United States Department of Justice and was on a course to be a strong advocate for protection of Native American lands and natural resources for years to come.
After some time had passed, a court sentencing hearing was held for the young man found responsible for vehicular manslaughter. In their ongoing grief and sorrow, my parents and oldest sister, Katy, attended the hearing. The drunk driver’s parents were also there, and after the hearing concluded, they sat on a bench and wept. My parents and sister were sitting nearby as they sought to gain control of their own emotions. After a moment, my parents and sister stood up and walked to the driver’s parents and offered them words of comfort and forgiveness. The men shook hands; the women held hands; there was deep sorrow and tears for all and a recognition that both families had suffered immensely. Mom, Dad, and Katy led the way with their quiet strength and courage and showed our family what forgiveness looks like.
That outreach of forgiveness in those moments caused my own heart to soften and opened a pathway to healing. Over time I learned how to have a forgiving heart. Only with the help of the Prince of Peace was my painful burden lifted. My heart will always miss Tommy and Joan, but forgiveness now allows me to remember them with unfettered joy. And I know we will be together again as a family.

Eight-year-old Stewart was feeling happy. He had already been to church with his family. They had a big family, and this was a special day. Lots of friends and relatives were coming to eat dinner with them. Stewart was glad, because he loved being with all his cousins.
When his mother asked him if he’d like to go with her in the car, he quickly climbed in. As they drove around the corner, she told him that they were going to the store to get a few things that she needed for the dinner.
Stewart didn’t feel so happy anymore.
When the car pulled into the store parking lot, Mother climbed out and looked for Stewart. Where was he? She looked and looked. Finally she saw him crouched down in the backseat. “Aren’t you coming in with me, sweetheart?”
“No,” he mumbled miserably.
“OK. I’ll hurry.”
It wasn’t long until Mother came back carrying a bag. She put it into the backseat. As she drove home, she reached over and patted Stewart’s hand. “Why don’t you tell me what you are upset about.”
“I didn’t know that you were going to the store. I don’t ever want to go to the store on Heavenly Father’s special day.”
“Oh, Stewart, I’m so sorry! I will never go to the store on Heavenly Father’s day again.”
Mother knew that her little boy had made a better choice than she had. She knew that she shouldn’t shop on the Sabbath, even this one time, when it had seemed so important. Stewart taught her a lesson that she never forgot.
Stewart is all grown up now, and his mother is a grandma. Both of them remember that sunny Sunday afternoon and the lesson he taught her about keeping the Sabbath Day.

“I shared a room with my sister. We liked to be together, but when were very young we argued about who was taking more than her share of the bed. One day we decided to settle the problem. We took a pen and drew a line right down the middle of the sheet. Mother didn’t like that solution and explained that we were not to mark on the sheets again. When we were older, our parents told us we could each have our own room. Dianne moved her things into another room, but it only lasted one night. We really preferred being together, so the next day she moved back.

Sharon bent her head over her spelling words and tried to ignore the excited chatter all over the classroom. Field day! That’s all anybody talks about anymore, she thought angrily. And what fun is field day for me when my legs don’t work?
How she hated the wheelchair that prevented her from doing all the things she wanted to do. She had to stop thinking about it though because when she did, she would also think about the accident. Then she would get all shaky remembering the car rolling over and over and the feeling afterward when her legs wouldn’t move anymore.
What can I do on field day? she wondered. Just sit on the sidelines while all the rest run and jump and win ribbons! Last year Karen, her twin, had been her field day partner, and they had won two blue ribbons. And Sharon had even placed second in the sack race. But this year … well, she would pretend to be sick that day. That would certainly be a lot easier than sitting on the sidelines and pretending she didn’t care.
"You can’t be sick!" Karen pleaded that morning. "It’s field day and you have to go!"
"I can’t," Sharon whispered. "I feel just awful."
Mom came and felt her forehead. "No fever," she said.
Sharon felt that Mom knew she was telling a lie, and then she really did feel awful. She had never told Mom a lie before, but she just couldn’t sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else having a great time.
"But I ache all over, Mom. I don’t think I’d better go to school today."
Sharon lay there feeling guilty. She could hear Mom in the kitchen telling Karen she wouldn’t be able to go see her in the competition after all, and she could hear Karen’s disappointment when she said, "That’s OK, Mom."
Sharon hated to disappoint Karen. Her sister had been just great since the accident. She had carried her piggyback many times so Sharon could go out and join the other kids in their games. No, I can’t let her down, she decided. She loves field day as much as I always did. And it wouldn’t be fair to make Mom stay home either.
The classroom was a frenzy of activity when they arrived. And before she knew it, Sharon was out on the field with the rest of the school, where Miss Sims was calling out the events—"Sixty-meter dash!"
Sharon’s whole class was in that one except for her, and she felt embarrassed to just sit there while all the rest were on the field waiting for the starting whistle. She looked around for Mom and spotted her across the field, sitting with several other parents. They all looked excited and proud as they pointed out their children. Somehow that made Sharon feel worse than ever.
"Go!"
The runners were off and Sharon heard herself yelling along with everybody else. "Go, Karen! Go!"
The next event was the three-legged race, and Sharon couldn’t hide her tears when she saw her sister team up with another girl. But everyone was too busy cheering and shouting to notice her crying.
Sharon didn’t yell much after that. She watched with scant interest the sack race, walk race, wheelbarrow race, and the slowpoke race. But then suddenly Karen was beside her, her face red from the heat and the excitement.
"Come on, Sharon. We’re next!"
Miss Sims picked Sharon up out of the wheelchair and the next thing she knew she was on her sister’s back, hanging on for dear life as they sped onto the field. "Karen, you’ll drop me!" she cried.
"No I won’t, “Karen called over her shoulder. "I carry you piggyback at home, don’t I? Now just hold on, silly. We’re partners for the piggyback race, and we’re going to win the blue ribbon!"
The whistle blew. "Go!"
The racers ran across the field and Sharon held on for all she was worth. "Go, Karen!" she shouted. "We’re ahead! Run! Run!"
Sharon could see Mom jumping up and down on the edge of the field and could hear her cheering for them. But as they neared the finish line, Laura Kendle and Elaine Coughty edged past them to finish first. As they crossed the line second, Karen eased Sharon into her chair, panting. "Whew! Well, we came in second anyway."
"You came in second," muttered Sharon. "You ran. I only rode!" Her twin looked at her understandingly and didn’t say anything as they accepted their red ribbons.
Sharon knew she hadn’t done anything herself. Karen had earned the ribbons for them, but she had participated in field day, and she could not help but be just a little bit proud of their ribbons.
"OK! Softball throw."
"Come on, Sharon," Miss Sims called. "You’re in this event."
One of the boys pushed her chair out onto the field, and Sharon’s heart began to beat a little faster. She had been pitching to Ricky, the little boy next door, who was trying out for Little League, so she knew she was pretty good with a softball. Her heart was pounding like a trip-hammer. When her turn came, Sharon held the ball for a moment and then threw it with all the strength she could muster.
"Wow!" the children all murmured appreciatively and watched as Miss Sims checked the distance. Then, consulting the figures on her clipboard, she announced, "First place! Sharon Sullivan. Second place …"
But Sharon didn’t hear who won second or third place, because Karen was giving her a bear hug, and all the other boys and girls were crowding around to congratulate her. She had won a blue ribbon and she had done it herself.
"But I really didn’t think I would be in field day at all this year," she told Miss Sims as she accepted her ribbon.
"Why, Sharon Sullivan! You know everyone participates in field day. ‘All students must participate in field day.’ That’s what it says in the rules. Right?" Then she smiled. "Congratulations!"
Sharon smiled back. And although she couldn’t explain how or why she thought so, she knew that something important had happened to her. Somehow she didn’t feel like "just a girl in a wheelchair" anymore. Wonderingly, she said half aloud, "I’m still Sharon Sullivan."
"Well, of course," said one of the boys. "That’s who you’ve been all along! But now you’re also the winner of a blue ribbon!"

Freddie worked his way up and down the wall. Mom preceded him, using the brush to do the trim work along the molding and ceiling and in the corners. One especially dark smudge on the wall caught Freddie’s attention. “This is a really bad mark, Mom,” said Freddie. “How did it get on the wall?”
Mom squinted, trying to remember. “I think you made that one. Remember how angry you and Brad got at each other last month?”
“I sure do. I called him a poor sport at the ball game, and he called me a baby. I came home so mad that I wanted to kick him.” Freddie frowned. “I kicked the wall, instead. I knew I shouldn’t have done it, and I felt bad about what I’d done.”
“And as I recall,” Mom added, “Brad came over later, and you two made up.”
“Well, we both said we were sorry. Besides, we couldn’t stay mad forever. That’s why Brad and I are best friends.” With one quick stroke, Freddie’s roller covered the ugly mark with wet paint.

Of course, Shawn’s basketball prowess has not gone unnoticed. He has attracted national attention since he was in the ninth grade. His family’s ability to look for the positive really helped while college recruiters visited around Castle Dale trying to persuade Shawn to consider goint to their colleges. Shawn’s dad, Reiner, says, “We were told the recruiting process could become unpleasant. We sat down as a family and said, let’s not let it get that way. Let’s do this from a positive angle. Let’s enjoy it. It was an incredible experience, and the family enjoyed every minute of it.”

When Daddy came home, Marie opened the door for him. “Mommy went to bed,” Marie said. “Oh dear, let’s go see what’s wrong,” Daddy said. Mommy coughed and sniffled and blew her nose. “I have a cold, and there is a frog in my throat,” she said. “You sound hoarse,” Daddy said. “I had better go to the store for some medicine. Then I will make supper.” Daddy got in the car and drove away. Marie waved good-bye from the window. “I want to help take care of Mommy too,” Marie said. “What can I do? I know! I can make supper.” Marie spread peanut butter on one slice of bread. Then she spread jam on another slice of bread. She put the sandwich on a plate and took it to Mommy. “Supper in bed!” Mommy said. “Thank you, honey. You are a good cook.” “You are welcome,” Marie said with a big smile. “Now I have to get busy and make two more sandwiches—one for Daddy and one for me!”

Liz: When I was growing up, the closest Church member my age lived an hour and a half away, so there were no other members at school. But something I really appreciated was that even though there was just me, my leaders always came to Mutual; they always came to seminary; they always came to teach my lesson—every single time. They never said, “Well, we’ve got just one student so we’re not going to have class today.” I’m sure I learned a lot, but what I really remember is that my leaders were consistent. And because of them, I had opportunities to feel the Spirit.
I think we can never fully appreciate the gift of the Holy Ghost. Even though I had my parents and my family and my leaders, when I was at school I was by myself. But the Spirit was with me. So whatever keeps the Spirit in someone’s life will be a great influence in helping that person keep the law of chastity.

Our family—my parents, my brother, and me—prepared for a long time so that my brother could serve a mission. Whenever we would talk about him being a missionary, I would joke with him, saying I wouldn’t miss him and that I would be glad to be alone.
The day finally came for him to send in his missionary papers. He had tried to do well in school, and we had all worked hard to save money for his mission.
One day the stake president called us and said the call had arrived. My brother decided to open the letter after dinner at home. He was called to serve in the Mexico City East Mission.
Not long after that we dropped him off at the airport and said goodbye. On the way home my mother could not stop her tears, but I did not cry. But only two hours later, when I was in the room I used to share with my brother, I suddenly realized that I would not see him again for a long time. Then I was the one who could not stop my tears, and I let myself cry and cry. My parents hugged and comforted me, and we all felt great joy and great sadness at the same time.
Since that day, I pray to Heavenly Father and ask Him to take care of my brother as he serves.
My brother taught me that I must also prepare for a mission. I must be worthy to receive the priesthood, attend seminary, and achieve the goals in Fulfilling My Duty to God. He taught me to work and save money, read the scriptures, and obey my leaders.
I want to serve a mission too so that other people can have the blessings of the gospel and know that it is true.

I remember when I first told my previous boss at BYU Broadcasting that I was interested in applying for a job opening I had seen. There was just one little catch. The position wasn’t at BYU Broadcasting. Oh, and by the way, could you also write me a glowing letter recommendation so I can get this new job?

Now if that’s not a potentially uncomfortable conversation, I don’t know what is. I was in a senior management position and was the first and only female to be appointed to the BYU Broadcasting Director’s Council. But, I had also been very honest with my managing director and he knew that as much as I loved the exciting work that we were doing, I just didn’t see myself staying in that same position for the next 20 years.

So I applied for that job opening I had seen. With his glowing letter of recommendation, I might add. And I waited. And then I interviewed. And then I had a second interview. And finally, the phone call came letting me know…that I did not get the position.

It turns out that Heavenly Father had something else in store for me. But I’m proud to say that at least I took the shot. And the next time I applied for a job—which was for the position I now have here at BYU–Hawaii—I made it. And I’m so glad I did.

When I decided to become a full tithe payer, I felt hesitant about telling my husband. He handles the finances, and I knew he would not welcome the addition of another expense when we were trying to get out of debt. I decided to fast and pray to prepare for the discussion.
When the time felt right, I approached him prepared to give a speech about the commandment and blessings of tithing. Instead, when I opened my mouth I started telling him how much I loved him and how the gospel had helped me see what a wonderful man he was. I told him everything that made me proud to be his wife, and I said that even if he never joined the Church, I would always love him.
My husband rarely cries, so when I saw him tearing up I knew he was deeply touched. He admitted he had been worried he might lose me because, with my life in order, I wouldn’t need him anymore. He had been feeling worthless as a husband because he felt he wasn’t supporting me enough.
I had been so involved with my own happiness I hadn’t realized that my husband had been feeling left out. My Heavenly Father had guided me to discuss what my husband needed most.
When the time did eventually come to discuss tithing, my husband agreed that I could pay it if I could figure out how to eliminate another bill. I didn’t know how I would do it, but I resolved that January 1995 would mark the beginning of my tithe. On New Year’s Day, I noticed several chicken pox on my four-year-old as I helped her undress after church.
Because my daughter couldn’t go to day care, I called a coworker on the graveyard shift and asked if we could switch shifts so I could stay home during the day. When I received my paycheck two weeks later, I realized that the amount I needed for tithing was the amount I would have paid a baby-sitter. As expected, my two-year-old broke out in chicken pox two weeks later, but I was again able to switch shifts with someone. I realized this was Heavenly Father’s way of telling me I would be able to find a way to pay my tithing, and I have been able to do so ever since.

Now, brethren, we are going out now with a determined activity to bring these our brethren into activity—activity of some kind. One of the mission presidents, with a group of his missionaries back in the Eastern States some years ago, was meeting in a hall with pillars that ran down the center of the hall, and he said to one of the missionaries, “Get up and push that pillar over.”

“Well,” said the missionary, “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because the weight of that ceiling is all on top of the pillar.”

Then the president asked, “Suppose that weight were lifted off. Could you push the pillar over then?”

The missionary replied, “Why, sure, I think I could.”

Then the president said, “Now, brethren, you and I are just like one of those pillars. As long as we have a weight of responsibility in this church, all hell can’t push us over; but as soon as that weight is lifted off, most of us are easy marks by the powers that drag us down.”

On one occasion Karl G. Maeser was going with a group of young missionaries across the alps. They were crossing a high mountain pass on foot. There were long sticks stuck into the snow of the glacier to mark the path so that travelers could find their way safely across the glacier and down the mountain on the other side.
When they reached the summit, Brother Maeser wanted to teach the young elders a lesson. He stopped at the pinnacle of the mountain and pointed to those sticks that they had followed. And he said, “Brethren, behold the priesthood of God. They are just common old sticks, but it’s the position that counts. Follow them and you will surely be safe. Stray from them and you will surely be lost.” And so it is in the Church. We are called to leadership positions and given the power of the priesthood. And we are just common old sticks, but the position we are given counts. It is separate and apart from us, but while we hold it, we hold it.

Entering the United States Navy in the closing months of World War II was a challenging experience for me. I learned of brave deeds, acts of valor, and examples of courage. One best remembered was the quiet courage of an 18-year-old seaman—not of our faith—who was not too proud to pray. Of 250 men in the company, he was the only one who each night knelt down by the side of his bunk, at times amidst the jeers of the curious and the jests of unbelievers, and, with bowed head, prayed to God. He never wavered. He never faltered. He had courage.

As it turned out, we only had time for three more children. Our fourth child is Natalie. Since birth, her nickname has been Sunshine, and for good reason. She was born with strong mothering instincts. Natalie became like a second mom to our youngest two children just by her nature—it couldn’t be stopped. Because of that, the younger three came to be known as the “junior patrol,” in contrast to the older three, who I guess were the “senior patrol,” though they never used the term themselves. Natalie led Mandy and Benjamin in everything—club meetings, adventures, shows, chores—and they loved it. Talk about belonging! They felt it.

One night Angie and I were tired and sitting at the dinner table talking, and Natalie was doing the dishes because it was her turn. Exhausted, Angie turned to Natalie and, without thinking, asked, “Natalie, after you finish the dishes, will you put your kids to bed?”

Natalie was stunned, and then we all three started laughing together—well at least Angie and I were laughing. I am not sure Natalie was laughing, because of course they were not Natalie’s kids; they were ours. Oh how we love Natalie—the sunshine of our lives!

“A few years ago, I was in line to make a purchase at my local grocery store. Ahead of me stood a young woman, about 15 years old. She appeared confident and happy. I noticed her T-shirt and couldn’t resist talking to her. I began, ‘You’re from out of state, aren’t you?’
“She was surprised by my question and replied, ‘Yes, I am. I’m from Colorado. How did you know?’
“I explained, ‘Because of your T-shirt.’ I made my accurate supposition after reading the words on her shirt, ‘I’m a Mormon. Are you?’
“I continued, ‘I must tell you that I’m impressed by your confidence to stand out and wear such a bold declaration. I see a difference in you, and I wish every young woman and every member of the Church could have your same conviction and confidence.’ Our purchases completed, we said good-bye and parted.
“Yet for days and weeks after this random everyday moment, I found myself seriously reflecting upon this encounter. … I couldn’t help but wonder what meaningful phrase I would figuratively choose to have printed on my T-shirt reflecting my belief and testimony. … Eventually, I came upon an ideal statement I would proudly wear: ‘I’m a Mormon. I know it. I live it. I love it.’ ”
Sister Ann M. Dibb, second counselor in the Young Women general presidency