Gospel Story Finder

Not far from this tabernacle there lived two sisters. Each had two handsome sons. Each had a loving husband. Each lived in comfort, prosperity, and good health. Then the grim reaper visited their homes. First, each lost a son; then the husband and father. Friends visited; words brought a measure of comfort; but grief continued unrelieved.
The years passed. Hearts remained broken. The two sisters sought and achieved seclusion. They shut themselves off from the world which surrounded them. Alone they remained with their remorse. Then there came to a latter-day prophet of God, who knew well these two sisters, the inspiration of the Lord which directed him to their plight. Elder Harold B. Lee left his busy office and visited the penthouse home of the lonely widows. He listened to their pleadings. He felt the sorrow of their hearts. Then he called them to the service of God and to mankind. Each looked outward into the lives of others and upward into the face of God. Peace replaced turmoil. Confidence dispelled despair. God had once again remembered the widow and, through a prophet, brought divine comfort.

Sixteen-year-old Dwan Chevelle Bondad, one of the speakers, shared that she was not confident enough in delivering her talk in Filipino, as English was her first language.
“I’m afraid I might not articulate my talk well,” she said.
Her parents Marisol and Oliver Bondad shared the same concern. “She’s not very good at Tagalog. Her nerves might get into her and she might stutter,” her mother revealed. “So we included her in our daily family prayer.”
She added, “We prayed hard. We were confident that the Lord would bless her.”
While reviewing her talk, Dwan had a hard time understanding her own message.
Then a beautiful turn around happened. She recalled, “The moment I gave my talk in the Celestial Room, my own message resonated with me more.”
She felt comforted. “I received the aide I needed and my anxieties disappeared,” she said. “I realized that there’s no room for worry in the Celestial Room.”

Ramona Morreale of the Cannonville Ward, Escalante Utah Stake, writes of a special family home evening when she read from her journal: “I found entries about our children and humorous things they said and did when they were younger. Before long we were all laughing. Our children often ask to have a ‘journal’ lesson again. Sometimes we also read spiritual entries from an ancestor’s journal. This brings great joy and helps us get to know them.”

It was New Year’s Day, and a snowstorm had just blanketed the small mountain town of Estes Park, Colorado, where I lived. Filled with the excitement of the holiday season, my older brother, Roger, and I had gone outside to play in a field near our home. A little lake where we had played on the ice many times before now lay underneath a fresh mantle of snow, flat and absolutely flawless.
No one worried about the lake being unsafe at that time of year—we lived at such a high altitude that the cold weather generally insured that small lakes would be frozen. But as we were playing, Roger suddenly fell through a soft spot in the ice. I was only six years old, and I didn’t know what to do. I could see no sticks around to pull him out with; everything was covered by snow. His heavy clothing soon pulled him under the water.
I ran all the way home through the deep snow, over a mile, to get my father. We drove back to the lake, and he dove through the ice and somehow found my brother. He tried to revive him, but by that time Roger had drowned.
That experience left me with several feelings. First, I saw the strength of the gospel in my parents’ lives. We were the only members of the Church in our community. Everyone rallied around my parents to give them support and comfort, but I think that the whole community gained more comfort and understanding by watching how a knowledge of the gospel helped my family handle that very difficult situation.
Years later, after I had a family of my own, my wife’s mother heard a caller in a radio talk show describe how he had watched a young family that had lost a son in a drowning accident. He didn’t mention the names of my parents, but the accident had occurred in Estes Park. It was obvious of whom he was speaking. He said it had taught him a great lesson about the strength of that family and the principles that guided their lives. Even then, about twenty-five years after the accident, my parents’ conduct continued to influence others.
Second, I learned about the purpose of this mortal experience. We come to earth to gain a body. Some of us are going to live on the earth a shorter time than others. When you’re literally side by side with your brother, and he goes through the ice and drowns and you don’t, it gives you a whole different way of thinking about life. It could have just as easily been me that drowned. But I’ve always felt that my brother’s mission here on earth had been completed and that he was just “called home” at an earlier age than most of us. But being the one who was allowed to remain, it was important to live as well as I could so that not only Heavenly Father but also my brother would be pleased with my actions.
Third, I learned a great deal from the courage exhibited by my father. He risked his life to break through that ice and dive underneath it to try to rescue his ten-year-old son. It was an immediate response; he did what he felt he needed to do. He showed great love, courage, and strength of character.
Mortality is significant, but it is a very small part of our eternal existence, I learned that lesson then too. I also learned to appreciate that through the ordinances and covenants of the temple our family relationships truly can be eternal.
There’s always another side to tragedy, and that side is one of greater understanding of the purpose of life. I know that Heavenly Father provides special comfort to family and friends who go through painful experiences, as He did with my family. It was a time when Heavenly Father was particularly close to us. And He will be close to you in times of difficulty if you call on Him in prayer.

Two years later the Widtsoe family left Oslo, Norway, with twenty other Norwegian Saints to begin the long journey to America. Eleven-year-old John kept a diary of their trip over the North Sea, their smoky journey across the midlands of England, their three days of sight-seeing in Liverpool, their voyage over the Atlantic Ocean, and the long railroad ride from New York to Logan, Utah, where they settled. There John found many and varied jobs to help support the family. His mother did dressmaking and any other kind of work she could find to provide for current expenses and to save toward the education of her sons.

I want to serve a mission! The only problem is, I’m not even old enough to drive, let alone leave my family for a year and a half.
Fortunately, I had the opportunity to serve now—by volunteering during the Philadelphia temple open house! I participated in the youth cultural celebration, led tours, and even played the violin with my brother in the reception hall. I realized that I can be a missionary without even wearing a tag!
Katie L., 15, Pennsylvania, USA

Actually, we can ask for any specific gift of the spirit that we might need in order to progress. For example, the gifts of patience, fortitude, hope, or peace. One of my close friends confided in me about feelings of envy she had harbored for several years toward a member of her own family. Eventually, she prayed with all the sincerity of her soul for the gift of charity. Diligently, she turned to God whenever the dreaded feelings would rise in her, and she purposefully stopped talking negatively about her relative to others. Although it took many steps spread over at least half a year, she eventually said to me, "I love my family member and no longer envy that person." What a victory over the flesh! She shared with me how grateful she felt for the Savior and his marvelous influence in her life. As she put forth her own efforts, climbed over the adversary's snares of discouragement along the way, the Lord orchestrated all the rest and He endowed her with power.

At age 16, I began working as a lifeguard and teaching swimming lessons at an outdoor swimming pool in the center of the town. It was my dream job. Two years later I became the pool manager with a lot of responsibility.
As summer approached, I interviewed and hired all the lifeguards, arranged the work schedules, and organized the swimming lesson schedule. My days were full of lifeguarding and teaching lessons, and each night I counted all the money and took it to City Hall after we cleaned and locked up the pool.
The summer was going well and I loved my job. Then one day, several of the guards came to me wanting the following Sunday off; they all planned to be out of town. The pool had always been open on Sundays, but I had never had to work them because I never scheduled myself and the others weren’t bothered by working on Sunday.
I could almost hear the tempter’s voice in my ear saying, “Just work one Sunday. What’s the big deal?” But I wanted to remain firm in my commitment to never work on Sunday. It took a lot of arranging, but I finally was able to fill that shift and didn’t have to work.
Over the next several weeks, I felt more and more anxiety about the whole Sunday situation. I realized that there might be some day in the future where I would have to work because no one else was available or might call in sick. I had made a commitment to keep the Sabbath day holy, and I didn’t want to break it, but I needed a solution or I would have to find a job elsewhere for the next summer.
I gave the problem a lot of thought and decided I might be able to figure out a way to get the pool closed on Sundays. Could it even be possible? I would have to approach the city council, since they were the ones who were in charge of the city pool.
So I brainstormed all the ideas I could think of to justify closing the pool. I figured out how many people usually came to swim each Sunday and what the average revenue was. I deducted the costs of operating the pool, heating the water, and paying the lifeguards. Typically, Sundays were slow at the pool—and my minor research had confirmed that. Closing the pool could save the city money.
A friend of mine helped me find more reasons why closing the pool on Sundays was beneficial to the city. Together we worked on a proposal, and a few weeks later I took the proposal to the city council. To my great surprise, they agreed and accepted my proposal. Within a short time that summer the pool was open each week only Monday through Saturday.

Two days after Christmas in 1992, at the relatively young age of 64, my father was admitted to the hospital with a mild case of pneumonia. His doctor was a little concerned as Dad was also jaundiced, with no obvious reason why. Tests revealed nothing conclusive. However, the pneumonia symptoms were decreasing, and we all felt Dad was on the mend.

My mother requested that my father receive a priesthood blessing. A close long-time friend of my parents sealed the anointing with a wonderful blessing during which my father was told he would be healed.

The next morning, a nurse visited my father and asked what he would like for breakfast. When she returned a few minutes later, she discovered that Dad had gotten out of bed and made his way to the window, where he slumped to the floor and died.

How did that happen? My father had a priesthood blessing. He was promised he would be healed. We had faith and believed he would be healed. Where was our miracle? My dad, who always tried to be his best at whatever he was doing, had died anyway.

Many people observe miracles in their lives and the lives of loved ones, and their faith and testimony are strengthened by what they see. I believe those who fundamentally base their testimony on observed events face a potentially serious problem.

A testimony must be based on more than miracles, because the miracle you want is not always the one you get.

There is a message for Latter-day Saints in a seldom quoted revelation given to the Prophet Joseph Smith in 1838. “I remember my servant Oliver Granger; behold, verily I say unto him that his name shall be had in sacred remembrance from generation to generation, forever and ever, saith the Lord” (D&C 117:12).
Oliver Granger was a very ordinary man. He was mostly blind having “lost his sight by cold and exposure” (History of the Church, 4:408). The First Presidency described him as “a man of the most strict integrity and moral virtue; and in fine, to be a man of God” (History of the Church, 3:350).
When the Saints were driven from Kirtland, Ohio, in a scene that would be repeated in Independence, Far West, and in Nauvoo, Oliver was left behind to sell their properties for what little he could. There was not much chance that he could succeed. And, really, he did not succeed!
But the Lord said, “Let him contend earnestly for the redemption of the First Presidency of my Church, saith the Lord; and when he falls he shall rise again, for his sacrifice shall be more sacred unto me than his increase, saith the Lord” (D&C 117:13).
What did Oliver Granger do that his name should be held in sacred remembrance? Nothing much, really. It was not so much what he did as what he was.
When we honor Oliver, much, perhaps even most, of the honor should go to Lydia Dibble Granger, his wife.
Oliver and Lydia finally left Kirtland to join the Saints in Far West, Missouri. They had gone but a few miles from Kirtland when they were turned back by a mob. Only later did they join the Saints at Nauvoo.
Oliver died at age 47, leaving Lydia to look after their children.
The Lord did not expect Oliver to be perfect, perhaps not even to succeed. “When he falls he shall rise again, for his sacrifice shall be more sacred unto me than his increase, saith the Lord” (D&C 117:13).
Today we fulfill the prophecy “that [Oliver Granger’s] name shall be had in sacred remembrance from generation to generation, forever and ever” (D&C 117:12). He was not a great man in terms of the world. Nevertheless, the Lord said, “Let no man despise my servant Oliver Granger, but let the blessings … be on him forever and ever” (D&C 117:15).

It sometimes gets really cold and snowy where we live. Sometimes we even get to stay home from school and ride our sleds down a big hill next to our home. One day, when we were getting ready to put on our snowsuits, hats, and gloves, my mother said it was too cold and windy to go outside. I felt grumpy because we had to stay inside. I started complaining, and my mother said, “You need to go up to your room and find something good to do with your time.”
When I got to my room, I thought about what the Savior would want me to do. I decided to memorize the Articles of Faith. When I came downstairs after a few hours, I told my mother, brother, and sisters that I was sorry for being grumpy and that I had memorized each of the Articles of Faith. They were so surprised! I recited each one for them and felt very good that I had put my time to good use.
I think the Savior was happy that I decided to learn more about Him with the extra time I had that morning. I am grateful that He has given me a family and the scriptures to help us learn more about our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.

When I was 16 years old, my oldest brother, Ivan, who was 22 at that time, came home one day and shared some news with the family. He had decided to get baptized in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Our parents looked at him somewhat skeptically, and I remember not completely understanding what was going on. A year or so later, he gave us more surprising news: he had decided to serve as a missionary of the Church, which meant that we were not going to see him for two years. My parents were not thrilled with this news; however, I saw in him a clear determination that increased my admiration for him and the decision he had made.

Many years ago my father told us about going for a walk through the woods with an old friend, Judge Bringhurst. The judge sang so loudly along the way that he frightened all the wildlife. But my father said he enjoyed the judge’s singing so much that he didn’t mind not seeing any animals or birds. So when we laugh, smile, sing, whistle, or exercise, we seem to feel better. We either forget our concerns or they are put in better perspective. As we reach out to others, our happiness hormones are stimulated and we find our true selves.

Once I was asked to meet an older couple returning to the Church. They had been taught the gospel by their parents. After their marriage, they left the Church. Now, 50 years later, they were returning. I remember the husband coming into the office pulling an oxygen tank. They expressed regret at not having remained faithful. I told them of our happiness because of their return, assuring them of the Lord’s welcoming arms to those who repent. The elderly man responded, “We know this, Brother Andersen. But our sadness is that our children and grandchildren do not have the blessings of the gospel. We are back, but we are back alone.”
They were not back alone. Repentance not only changes us, but it also blesses our families and those we love. With our righteous repentance, in the timetable of the Lord, the lengthened-out arms of the Savior will not only encircle us but will also extend into the lives of our children and posterity. Repentance always means that there is greater happiness ahead.

One of my first memories of implementing this formula for revelation takes me back to when I was a young missionary. I was having trouble being obedient to a specific mission rule. The mornings were so cold and there was no heat in our little apartment. When the alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. it was difficult for me to answer the bell. The most comfortable place in the apartment was under my electric blanket. I knew that I would not be receiving the full blessings of obedience if I couldn't overcome this weakness. In my mind I felt that if I could only have a greater vision of the work, even an eternal perspective of my efforts as a missionary, that I would then be able to overcome the temporary hardships and inconveniences posed by these conditions. I remember focusing my every thought and desire on gaining that eternal perspective. I read scripture on the matter, I prayed unceasingly for this revelation, I obeyed all mission rules and I exercised my faith. Then, one evening, as I once again knelt in prayer seeking this revelation I received the righteous desires of my heart. I felt knowledge rush into my mind and soul, I recall it feeling like pure light was being poured into me. It was at one time exhilarating and overwhelming. It was then I gained an eternal perspective of this great, restored work and that knowledge, that personal revelation, continues to sustain me in all that I do today.

Whitney’s parents have searched for other ways to help their daughters fulfill their Personal Progress goals. One day at church in the Glines (Utah) Fourth Ward, the Waltons listened to a ward member tell of her troubles in keeping up her yard and flowerbeds. Whitney’s dad, David Walton, suggested that Kaylen, 14, might plan a Personal Progress project in Good Works that would help this ward member. Kaylen thought it was a great idea.
“My dad and I went over and planned with her what we could do,” Kaylen said. “We put down black plastic and had rocks brought in. We planted new flowers. My mom and sisters helped. And her neighbor and home teachers came also. She was so appreciative of what we did. I baked cookies to thank everyone who helped.”
The Walton girls have found that it’s more fun to plan projects in which the family can help. Now that their sister Kelsey has turned 12 and is in Young Women, everyone in the family is looking for more ideas for doing Personal Progress projects as a family.

Until I joined the Church, I had never seriously disappointed my family. When I joined, I knew they felt betrayed, and I felt horrible for hurting them so much. I continued in the Church because I knew in my heart that it was what the Lord wanted for me—and for them.
I was not living close to home at the time. Whenever I visited, I was met with accusations and insults. The situation worsened when I decided to serve a mission. My grandmother had tears in her eyes when she said, “Annie girl, if you serve this mission, you will break my heart.” I told her that a mission was something I had been prompted to do, and if I didn’t serve, I would be disobeying Heavenly Father.
While I prepared for my mission I found comfort and strength within my ward family. They did an amazing job of helping me adjust to the lifestyle changes that come with being a Church member, and they gave me support in coping with the opposition of my family. I found it easier to persevere despite the frustrations by immersing myself in the Church through callings, activities, and going on exchanges with the missionaries. Also, I lived close to Palmyra, New York, so I often found myself sitting in the Sacred Grove, pondering my situation and seeking peace.
Although I had support from my ward, I still felt frustrated and misunderstood by my family. Everything they knew about the Church they had learned from outside sources, and they would not accept anything I told them. I tried to discuss the gospel with them and correct their misconceptions, but I never seemed to succeed in reaching common ground. The gap separating me from my loved ones was widening, and I did not know how to narrow it. By the time I left on my mission to Virginia, I had almost lost hope that my family would ever show interest in the Church.
Through my letters home, I continued my efforts to share the gospel. I remember inviting my father to meet with the missionaries. He said frankly that he was not interested. Reading his response was one of the hardest experiences of my mission, but it gave me a greater drive to work hard and share the gospel with anyone willing to listen. I came to realize that everyone is someone’s family member and that by helping one person I might be answering someone else’s prayers. I strive to continue in my efforts in sharing the gospel, even though I am no longer a full-time missionary.
When Elder Henry B. Eyring of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles got up to speak at the April 2005 general conference, I felt a strong impression that I needed to pay close attention to what he was about to say. He started his talk with these words: “My message is to those who are converts to the Church. … You are not the exception in the Church. To you I wish to say how much the Lord loves you and trusts you. And even more, I wish to tell you how much He depends on you.”1
He spoke of how converts should never stop trying to share the gospel with their families. He then explained that another important aspect of missionary work within the family is temple work.
Elder Eyring’s words inspired me to make goals about temple attendance and family history work. I have found much fulfillment in taking family names to the temple and have received some amazing, unexpected blessings in the process. It has greatly increased my connection with those on the other side of the veil. I have seen miracles as I’ve tried to find their names, and I have felt their presence while performing their ordinances.
Another blessing came when I saw my grandmother for the first time after my mission. She gave me a list of names to take to the temple. She also talked about how she wanted to read the “Mormon book” because she remembered her father reading it. She now calls me every week to talk about what she has learned from the Book of Mormon.
Prior to leaving on my mission, I had felt an impression that my grandmother’s husband—who died in 1996, before I joined the Church—was striving to help soften her heart. While I was in the Missionary Training Center, the elders in my district did his temple work. Sitting in the celestial room, I was overwhelmed with the idea of my entire family being there together. I like to think that my grandfather is doing all he can to help our family accept the gospel.
My mom came to pick me up from my mission, and it happened to be October general conference weekend. She watched three of the conference sessions with me and enjoyed them so much that she asked for them on DVD for Christmas. To me, this was a miracle to let me know that I need not lose hope.
At the present time, no one in my family has shown much interest in joining the Church, but I feel it will happen one day—whether in this life or the next. Our relationship has improved so greatly that I know it was not through my own efforts but through the workings of the Spirit. Heavenly Father blesses us with miracles and the righteous desires of our hearts when we are striving to do His will. I have felt His strength and support to move forward, and I know that I will never be alone in His true Church.
Find comfort and strength in your ward or branch family.
Seek peace and direction through prayer.
Share the gospel with others. Remember that everyone has a family, and you may be the answer to someone else’s prayer.
Participate in family history and temple work.
Never give up hope that your family may some day accept the gospel.

I found the Church twelve years ago and was touched by the message that the missionaries gave about the Book of Mormon.
For more than a year after joining the Church, I was seriously ill and was hospitalized. I truly came to appreciate the Seito No Michi (Japanese) magazine and the Book of Mormon. Their stories comforted me and helped me to feel the Spirit throughout the trial of my illness. I am well now, and I am grateful for my good health. Thank you for strengthening my testimony.
Reiko NakayamaKichijoji Ward, Tokyo Stake, Tokyo, Japan

Many of you are doing remarkable things. Megan, a young woman, prayed many months for two friends who were not members of the Church, arranging for one friend to sign up for seminary and inviting the other to be taught by the missionaries. Recently these two young women were baptized. The Church needs you. President Hinckley cannot walk down the halls of your school and teach your friends, but you can, and the Lord is counting on you. We’re so proud of the courage you have as you share your love for the gospel with your friends.

by Reneé Heyland
One of the altars in the sealing rooms of the Sao Paulo Temple in Brazil is very special to some former Mia Maids from the Lethbridge Alberta Stake. During the course of a year, girls from the nine different classes in the stake raised $1,425—approximately $225 more than the cost of the altar they hoped to contribute to the new temple.
Cheryl Crane from the Second Ward expressed the following thoughts about her experience: “At first I wasn’t too happy to give up my free time to earn the temple money, but then I read about the sacrifices the members in Brazil are making.
“Hundreds of thousands of dollars had to be raised, and such amounts of money are not easy to come by. One young couple saved $2,000 to come to Salt Lake City to go through the temple, a dream they had shared for many years. But when they were asked to contribute to the temple fund, they gave up that dream for the sake of another—the dream that every Brazilian Saint could go through the temple, instead of just a few.
“When I read about these and other sacrifices that Saints in Brazil had made, I realized my sacrifices hardly classify as sacrifices at all.”
Throughout the year the girls participated in a variety of money-raising projects. To the usual baked-food sales one of the groups added caramel popcorn, another sponsored a spaghetti dinner, and several of the classes sold concessions at stake sports events. The girls had car washes, pop bottle drives, and Christmas tree sales. One ward sponsored a carnival (complete with balloon-shaving and doughnut-eating contests); another cut out, made, and sold doll clothes; and a third took orders for and assembled silk flower corsages for Mother’s Day gifts. Several nonmembers became as enthusiastically involved as their Mia Maid friends.
Along with the money-raising events came “spirit-raising” events. Lessons were devoted to learning about the Saints in Brazil, temple marriage, and the significance, structure, and purpose of our modern-day temples. In addition, some of the girls were able to visit the Alberta Temple and do baptisms for the dead. But the highlight of the year was the special stake meeting held for all the Mia Maids, their parents, and leaders at the completion of the project. A Mia Maid from each ward explained how her class had raised the money and then gave her testimony of this special project. Next was the presentation of a story “The Dark Blue Suit” (see the July 1978 New Era), which gave a little insight into the faith and attitudes of some of the Saints in Brazil.
The conclusion of the evening was a talk by stake president Lamont Matkin concerning what the temple in Cardston should mean to the Mia Maids in the Lethbridge Stake.
Adviser Lesley Heath of the First Ward summed up her feelings about the year by saying, “It was a time of learning—about the Brazilian people, about the value of temples, and about the special beauty of each individual Mia Maid in my class. Only I, as their adviser, will ever know the real sacrifice of the two girls in our class who went the extra mile and donated twice as much of their babysitting money as they had promised. Only I will ever know of another girl who took the time away from a special event with her friends to work all day at the basketball concession stand. I’m grateful for this experience, and for the vision it gave us of what we can do.”