Gospel Story Finder

When I was little, I was a sickly child. Dad would often give me a blessing while mom held me. He has so much faith. I always got better.

1. In my home up above, such a short time ago,
I prepared for a mission on earth.
Such a faraway land, what a strange, foreign place,
was I ready for my chance at birth?
There would be trials ahead, time for learning and growth.
I’d experience sadness and pain.
“Dear Father,” I cried, “will you stay by my side?”
Then lovingly came this refrain:
Chorus
“Child, I will always be near you
to watch you and guide you back home.
I know of your fears, your heartaches and tears,
but with me you are never alone.
At times the way won’t be easy.
You’ll see many choice souls go astray.
But be patient and strong, and I’ll help you along,
for I’m only a prayer away.”

Although she still never danced on a Sunday, at age 17, Bianca was accepted into New York’s prestigious Ballet Academy East, where she had the exciting opportunity to study the Balanchine ballet method.
It wasn’t always fun. “There were times in New York, away from all my friends and family, I felt I had no one,” Bianca remembers. “Crying one night . . . I remember praying to my Heavenly Father and asking Him for [a hug]. I will never forget the warmth that flooded my chest. Although it made me cry more, they were definitely happy tears, and I did not feel alone anymore.”

The first time I experienced the power of the Book of Mormon in the life of a convert, I was serving as a missionary in France. My British companion and I spent much of our time knocking on doors—with few results. One afternoon a distinguished, middle-aged lady opened her door. She had little time for us that day, but we left a Book of Mormon and made an appointment to return two days later. When we returned to her apartment and the door opened, I felt a powerful spiritual feeling. She was eager to see us. She had been reading the book and had experienced the powerful feelings of the Holy Ghost. She spoke of her joy and peace. She was prepared for whatever course we as the Lord’s servants would invite her to take.
It was in the cold of February. Our city had no chapel, so we installed a portable baptismal font in an old wooden barn. The steam from the warm water filled the air. The humble members of the branch surrounded the portable font as this sister climbed up the stairs and then down into the water to be baptized a member of the Church.
The peace expressed by this wonderful sister echoed the words of Parley P. Pratt (1807–57) as he spoke about his first encounter with the Book of Mormon: “As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and comprehended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists.”

Your ward has a goal to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year, so you take your scriptures to school. One of your friends notices your book and asks you what it’s about, so you explain what the Book of Mormon is and share your testimony of it.
Read Kenneth’s story later in this article to see what happened when he saw a Church member with a Book of Mormon at school.

Yet even while the ashes were still smoldering, the Young Women of the Los Angeles area were busy putting the finishing touches on a long-planned multistake conference that would unite nearly 500 LDS young women of various ethnic backgrounds and affirm that the gospel offers peace to everyone.
The six-hour conference featured an address from Young Women General President Janette Hales. Her message focused on how the fundamentals of personal religious behavior, things like reading the scriptures, praying, and keeping the commandments, can get you through life’s trials and keep you close to Heavenly Father, no matter what is going on in the world around you.
The conference also included 15 workshops covering subjects like dating, preparing for a mission, self-defense, sign language, and baby-sitting. It was just what the doctor ordered for the girls after the tragedy of the weeks before. But the memories for some of the young women were still vivid.
Actually, the timing couldn’t have been better for a multistake Young Women conference. It gave the girls a chance to feel unity and love with their sisters, no matter what their ethnic background. Many girls commented about how it helped them to talk about it with other young women, meet new friends without being afraid, and share the common spirit of being an LDS young woman regardless of color or race.
“I was sitting in the choir seats and it was unbelievable to see so many different faces out there,” said Alyson Keeler of the Los Angeles Stake. “There wasn’t just one majority cultural group; it was all mixed. It was so diverse. It’s wonderful to know that we’re all sisters and that we love each other.”
The spirit of the conference seemed to be an extension of the spirit the girls feel in their own wards. Talahiva Mataele from the Los Angeles Stake said, “In the Hollywood Ward it’s all mixed—Polynesian, Spanish, Koreans, whites, etc. It’s like we’re all from one big family. We could just go to somebody’s house and cook tacos one night and Polynesian food the next night and just learn from each other’s cultures.”
“We’re the only blacks in our ward, and we haven’t felt any racial tension at all,” said Trena and Joya McNelly, also from the Hollywood Ward. “People say, ‘We’re so glad you’re in church and nothing’s happened to you!’ We haven’t felt any discrimination at all and we’ve been in the Church for ten years.”
Gabriela Ferguson of the Riverside Stake also noticed a difference in attitudes about racial equality in and out of the Church. “In the community it starts to be like ‘we’re better than you because of what race we are.’ But in the Church it’s not like that because we’re all taught the same values. In our ward we have Samoans, Mexicans, blacks, whites, etc. But we realize that because of the gospel, we’re all the same.”
“We know that we should all be here together,” said Carla Rodriguez of the Lawndale Stake, summing up the conference and the feelings of the girls who attended. “We’re all here and we’re all from different cultures, but we all know we’re from the same Heavenly Father.”

John Baker’s Last Race is the story of an Olympic-class miler at the University of New Mexico, who was headed for the 1972 Olympics when his career was cut short by cancer. In the time that was left of his life, after he learned of his illness, he devoted himself to coaching children. Despite great odds, he proved to be a master teacher, inspiring children who were difficult to reach and gaining the respect of the entire community.
Two days after his death, the Duke City Dashers, his girls’ track team, with tears streaming down their cheeks, won the AAU championships in St. Louis—for Coach Baker. And that same year a referendum was held in Albuquerque to change the name of the Alpine Elementary School to the John Baker Elementary School. There was not one dissenting vote.
School children and teachers who knew Baker actually took part in the film. Even the mayor was given a bit part. The scenes were the actual places in the school, home, hospital, and neighborhood where Baker lived and died.

It was Friday morning, June 28, 1844, and already the summer sun was hot in Illinois. Since about eight o’clock that morning Dr. Willard Richards, Samuel H. Smith, and nine others had plodded along the dusty road between Carthage and Nauvoo, Illinois. Moving along the road with the solemn procession were two wagons heaped with bushes to protect their cargo from the blistering heat of the sun.
Laid out on the wagons were the lifeless bodies of Joseph Smith, age thirty-eight, over six feet tall, and Hyrum, his brother, age forty-four, and even larger in stature than Joseph. Wearily, Dr. Richards and Samuel Smith, brother to the two murdered men, pressed toward Nauvoo and talked of the events just the day before during which Joseph and Hyrum were gunned down by an armed mob with painted faces. The two victims, along with Dr. Richards and John Taylor, were lodged in Carthage Jail, supposedly for their protection, when the mob, numbering from 150 to 200 marauders, stormed the jail and shot to death their intended victims.
Word of the deaths had already reached Nauvoo, headquarters city for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As the wagons and their foot-weary guardians entered the city, several thousand citizens greeted the procession with the most solemn lamentations and mourning.
The bloodied bodies were tenderly removed from the wagons at the Nauvoo Mansion and were carefully washed from head to foot. The various wounds were filled with cotton, soaked in camphor, and death masks were impressed on each face. Fine, plain clothing was then placed on each body. When these preparations were completed, the bodies were viewed that night by the bereaved widows and children of the two men, along with many of their closest associates. Then on Saturday, more than ten thousand mourning Saints viewed the remains of their beloved Prophet Joseph and his brother, the Patriarch Hyrum. The bodies were then secretly and lovingly buried. (See History of the Church, 6:614–31.)

When I was fifteen years old I decided to buy a Bible. A spirit of restlessness had developed in me and I felt a great need to find answers concerning the reasons for existence.
I frequently gazed into the heavens and at the stars, wondering where God lived and what kind of being He was. When I read the words of Jesus in the Gospels, I believed them to be true. I recognized the path I should take. I loved the scriptures and I was not afraid of sharing this great joy of mine with others.
One principle that had great impact on me was the principle of faith, together with the various gifts of the Spirit: the gifts of healing, miracles, and revelation. I was convinced that if a person could have enough faith, he could truly move mountains.
I was so overcome by all this that I tried to share my joy with all of my friends. Franco, my dearest friend, was the first with whom I shared my beliefs and the results of my studies. We spoke often of the mystery of life. My other friends, however, did not show the same interest in these things.
Though I discussed these things with my friends, I had essentially embarked on this path alone, refusing to join any organized religion because I believed that I would be able to find my answer by increasing my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.
I felt a definite “progression” as I received confirmation of the things I learned through my reading. But this knowledge led to other questions for which I could find no answers.

In high school, I had the chance to switch to a new school. I really wanted to switch, but I wasn’t sure if Heavenly Father wanted me to. When I didn’t get a clear confirmation, I started to overthink it. One day, I opened a chocolate candy, and the inside of the wrapper said, “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.” Was this my answer? Was Heavenly Father speaking to me through a chocolate wrapper? I didn’t think so.
When I still didn’t receive a clear answer, I finally made what I thought was the best choice and switched schools. But sometimes I still worried that maybe the chocolate wrapper had been a prompting that I’d ignored. Then one day, as I told my worries to a friend, I felt peace. That peace was my answer—but it only came after I’d made a choice and acted on it.

We sing, “Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven” (“Praise to the Man,” Hymns, number 27). This is a true principle. Let me illustrate with a personal experience.
I was named bishop of a suburban Salt Lake City ward in 1958, in the days when local members paid 50 percent of the cost of constructing a building. One of the most important leadership experiences in my life came several weeks before the dedication of our building. Our ward of young families, struggling to make ends meet, still needed to raise U.S. $30,000. I fasted and prayed to know what I should say to them regarding this obligation. We already had pressed them very hard.
As the brethren gathered for priesthood meeting, I was impressed to read to them the testimony that Elder Melvin J. Ballard, my grandfather, bore when he was ordained to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles on 7 January 1919. I quote a small portion recounting his experience in 1917 when he had sought the Lord pleadingly in a situation where there were no precedents for guidance:
“That night I received a wonderful manifestation and impression which has never left me. I was carried to this place—into this room. I saw myself here with you. I was told there was another privilege that was to be mine; and I was led into a room where I was informed I was to meet someone. As I entered the room I saw, seated on a raised platform, the most glorious being I have ever conceived of, and was taken forward to be introduced to Him. As I approached He smiled, called my name, and stretched out His hands toward me. … He put His arms around me and kissed me, as He took me into His bosom, and He blessed me until my whole being was thrilled. As He finished I fell at His feet, and there saw the marks of the nails; and as I kissed them, with deep joy swelling through my whole being, I felt that I was in heaven indeed. The feeling that came to my heart then was: Oh! If I could live worthy … so that in the end when I have finished I could go into His presence and receive the feeling that I then had in His presence, I would give everything that I am and ever hope to be!” (Melvin R. Ballard, Melvin J. Ballard: Crusader for Righteousness [1966], 66).
The Spirit of the Lord touched the hearts of the faithful brethren in my ward’s priesthood meeting that day. We all knew that with greater faith in Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer, we could reach our goal. During that same day, family after family came to my office with money, making personal sacrifices that were far beyond what I, the bishop, would ever have asked of them. By eight o’clock Sunday evening, the ward clerk had written receipts for a little more than $30,000.
Sacrifice truly brought forth the blessings of heaven to the members of our ward. Never have I lived among a people who were more united, more caring, more concerned for one another than those members. In our greatest sacrifice, we became bonded together in the true spirit of the gospel of love and service.

President Wajchman’s stake, with busy city streets giving way to country lanes that lead to outlying farmland, includes a large number of families who struggle economically—a common plight in a country currently experiencing 17 percent unemployment.

Concern for the economic welfare of the people of his stake prompted President Wajchman to look carefully at Church programs and resources that could be used to help meet basic needs of members. “I know Luis well,” claims Jaime Moltó, President Wajchman’s father-in-law. “He worries about every member—every single person.” What resulted was a multipronged approach that addressed not only the underlying causes of poverty but also the immediate needs of the people.

Education, a vital key in helping people become economically stable, enables people to take advantage of the emerging economic opportunities available today. To help members of his stake qualify for better employment, President Wajchman called David Durán as the literacy specialist in the stake. Brother Durán holds reading classes. President Wajchman also made arrangements with the government to open a school for adults: the stake provides classroom space, the government provides teachers. “We are encouraging everyone—all members, not just youth—to get at least the equivalent of a high school diploma,” he explains.

Other Church programs also help: an employment specialist has been called to help people find work, and the Relief Society is teaching sisters how to sew clothing and can or dry food.

Perhaps his most ambitious plan is his pioneering effort at establishing a garden to help feed the people in his stake. Located behind a small meetinghouse, the garden takes in less than one hectare of fertile farmland, where crops are grown year-round. “Each week elders from one of the wards come out on a rotating basis to help care for the farm,” explains Bishop Silvio Valtolina of the San Martín Second Ward. “It is a sacrifice for them. The ones who come to work are not usually the ones who need the food.”

Though farming machinery is common today in Argentina, it is impractical for raising crops on such a small amount of property. So with help from the stake budget, which covers the cost of seeds and some tools, members of the stake resourcefully returned to older methods of farming. Many kinds of crops, such as beets, beans, onions, and celery are planted in the rich, black soil and are watered by snowmelt carried in canals from the Andes. “We were concerned that the birds would eat our seed,” says stake missionary Mario Durán. “But we have been blessed. The Lord knows of our sacrifices and of the needs of the people. The birds come to the farms around us, but few come to this one. And where we expect 100 kilograms of produce, we harvest 300.”

Such bounty has not only strengthened faith and filled tables but also produced an opportunity. Because some varieties of vegetables grown on the stake plot are less well known, some members are unsure how to prepare the produce. “President Wajchman gave pumpkins to the sisters,” recalls Jaime Moltó, “and asked them, ‘What can you do with this?’ Then everyone met together to sample recipes.”

The produce, along with chicken and rabbit meat from another of President Wajchman’s projects, is distributed through the bishops to the needy of the stake. “In our stake,” he says, “we teach people to sow that others may harvest.”

Five portly pelicans standing on the shore—
Hold up all fingers on one hand.
One flew away; then there were four.
Fold one finger down.
Four preening pelicans bouncing on the sea—
One dived for a fish; then there were three.
Fold a second finger down.
Three playful pelicans on a sea of blue—
One flew to a ship; then there were two.
Fold a third finger down.
Two peaceful pelicans basking in the sun—
One perched on a buoy; then there was one.
Fold a fourth finger down.
One puzzled pelican, not to be outdone,
Flew off to dinner; then there were none.
Fold the thumb down.
Five portly pelicans, living by the sea.—
Five portly pelicans, as happy as can be.
Hook thumbs on both hands together and flap your hands like wings.

Jonel Foster, a tall, serious Aaronic Priesthood holder who is looking forward to serving a mission, was also introduced to the Church by Brother Cox. “I also thought Brother Cox was a little crazy, but my mother said you must listen before you pass judgment. I already believed in Christ. Now I believe fully. My belief is truly from my heart.”
Jonel was baptized in the ocean. “It was the happiest day of my life,” he said. “I felt pure. I felt it was right. The Church is a driving force in my life. If you write anything about what I say, I want you to write this. I know the Church is true.”

And how did the guys dress? Some came in tuxedos, but many of them confessed that they had tuxedos because they played in orchestra or sang in school choirs. Brad Jones of the Midland Second Ward said one lady in his ward had some tuxedos she had bought at garage sales. He borrowed one of those.

A few years ago 345 homes were destroyed in the Waldo Canyon forest fire. Two years later, damage from the fire continued as erosion caused by the destruction of vegetation and dangerous floodwaters still provoked havoc. In response, nearly 100 young men and women from Colorado Springs reported to work for a six-hour youth conference project to revitalize the forest.
Armed with shovels, safety goggles, and hard hats, the youth prepared mulch, spread seed, and raked the ground to create a proper bed for new grass to grow. Audrie P., 14, admitted that she wasn’t excited about the project at first but soon changed her attitude. “I was surprised at how much fun it could be. Who knew spreading dirt would be so much fun?”
Jamison S., 16, remembered seeing endless piles of mulch. “We created an assembly line to fill buckets and passed them down, sometimes sprinting, to where they needed to be.” Joshua G., 17, acknowledged the power of 100 youth working together: “It could have been done without us, but it would have been a lot harder and taken a lot longer.”
By the end everyone was hot, tired, and covered in dirt. The work was difficult, but a good kind of difficult. Emily L., 16, recalled, “It was really hard but fun!” Mulch colored their faces, but they were happy, and bright smiles beamed through.
Anne B., 14, said, “The service project made me realize there is more to the world than the everyday things that we do. There are people who need our help, and serving others helps us too.” Zach A., 15, who remembers being evacuated from the fire, said, “It was really cool to see our Church directly correlated with something that affected me and my neighbors.”
In the end, a hard day’s work made a difference as the youth not only rebuilt the land but also rebuilt hope for others in their area.
Ashley S., Colorado, USA

My family and I made the “Gratitude Tree” from the November 2013 Friend. My dad got brown bags for the trunk and the branches. My brother Mickey and I made the leaves while Dad made the trunk and branches. I liked writing down what I’m thankful for on the leaves.

Not only does this service bless the homes from which missionaries come, it blesses lives where missionaries go. One young lady who worked among the Indian people wrote: “The Navajo are a great people. Words can’t express my love for them. …
“The Navajo people accepted me, a white girl, as one of their own. They called me their white daughter. I had a hard time with the language, but I could teach by reading the lessons. I was very fortunate to have Navajo companions who could explain in detail. We could communicate with love. I learned that love is the greatest language to know. This people loved me and I loved them. We spoke with smiles, laughter, and sometimes tears. They were patient with my broken Navajo and helped me when I couldn’t think of a word. I left with a testimony in my heart and a feeling that cannot be described in words. …”
She concludes with, “In December I met a returned missionary. We fell in love and have been married in the temple.”

His young life is full of memories. They begin on the island of Timor, several hundred miles north of Australia. His Chinese parents were working in the Portuguese colony there (Domingos is a Portuguese name) when it was invaded by Indonesia. The men fled to Portugal. Women and children escaped to Darwin. “My mother, myself, and some other relatives came on one of two boats that got away,” Domingos explains. “We were lucky to survive.”
Domingos’s father later joined them in Darwin. Thanks to hard work, the family prospered. Two more boys were born. Domingos learned English. He discovered sports—cricket, karate, tennis, soccer, handball, volleyball. He excelled in school, in music, and in art. He worked in his uncle’s restaurant.

From 1837 to 1838 and again from 1839 to 1841, Vilate Murray Kimball wrote often to her husband, Elder Heber C. Kimball of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, while he traveled in Great Britain to preach the gospel. During these two missions, Vilate updated him on the health and well-being of their family and the ongoing teachings and revelations of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
For instance, Vilate took note in 1840 when Joseph revealed more details on the doctrine of proxy baptisms for deceased men and women: “President Smith has opened a new and glorious subject … which has caused quite a revival in the church,” she wrote to Heber. “That is, being baptized for the dead.” Vilate mentioned the biblical precedent for the practice and added that “Joseph has received a more full explanation of it by Revelation. … It is the privilege of this church to be baptized for all their kinsfolks that have died before this Gospel came forth.” She explained that in performing these baptisms for deceased family members, “we act as agents for them; and give them the privilege of coming forth in the first resurrection.”1 Vilate was baptized for her mother in 1841.