Gospel Story Finder

Photographs courtesy of Madelyn B. and by Getty Images
I was inspired by general conference. The instruction from our leaders to serve others, trust Jesus Christ, and hold steadfastly to the iron rod testifies to me that this gospel is true and that we can obtain eternal salvation by keeping the commandments and following the word of God. I have set goals to be of more service in my community and to strengthen my testimony through daily prayer and scripture study. I know that I am a daughter of Heavenly Father. He lives and loves me forever and always.
Madelyn B., 16, Delaware, USA
About: Oldest of three siblings; runs cross country; loves reading and singing; loves the Spanish language and hopes to teach English as a second language.

As a boy, Heber J. Grant helped his mother sweep, wash dishes, and keep house. He had never played sports like other boys his age.
Heber: Mother, I want to join a baseball team.
At first Heber had to play with boys much younger than he was because he couldn’t throw the ball very well. His teammates made fun of him.
Boy: Throw the ball over here, sissy!
Instead of getting upset, Heber set a goal.
Heber: Someday I will play on a championship team!
Heber shined men’s boots to earn money until he had saved up enough to buy his own baseball.
Then he practiced pitching his baseball against Bishop Edwin Woolley’s barn every day. The bishop was concerned.
Bishop: Your son is the laziest boy in the whole ward. He wastes his time throwing a ball at my barn for hours.
Sister Grant: Bishop, my son is practicing to achieve a goal.
Heber’s hard work finally paid off. He joined a team that went on to win the regional championship.

Some of the members had little education and less money. But they had much to give. He remembers fondly “one of the great men I knew” who delivered bread for a living and was called into a bishopric. The man had seen ward leaders taking briefcases to their meetings, and so he decided to take one too. But since he had nothing to put in it yet, he filled it with sourdough bread to share. This humble man’s willingness to serve was surpassed only by love for others.

When I was six, my dad took me and my older sister to play basketball. It was my first time playing at a real gym. The basketball felt heavy in my small hands and the hoop—even at its lowest setting—seemed overwhelmingly high.
“Don’t worry, just take a shot,” my dad said.
I turned to my dad. “But what if I miss?” I asked.
More than two decades later, I don’t remember if I made that shot or not. But I do remember the fear I felt: “What if I miss? What if my best efforts fall short? What should I do if I fail?”

We please Heavenly Father when we look for ways to serve others. When I was Young Men president in a ward in San Antonio, Texas, the bishop suggested that the priests quorum help a woman whose husband was on military deployment. She lived in a trailer home with her small children. The steps to her trailer were rotted and damaged. She needed help replacing them.
We met at her home and got to work. Shortly after we started, it began to rain. The priests decided to work through the rain. Soon new steps were in place. They were high quality when we were done! Some years later I had an occasion to talk to one of those priests. I asked him what he remembered from our time in the priests quorum. He remembered that service project. He said he was sure that what the service did for him was much more important than what it did for this dear sister and her family.

Joseph was a thinker. He enjoyed debating with the other boys in the neighborhood. It helped to satisfy his yearning for understanding and truth.
One evening when Joseph reached the village of Palmyra, a light snow had fallen and the cold penetrated his clothing, carefully patched to make it last through the season. The lamplight flickering through the windows of the village store beckoned him on. His long legs lengthened their stride.
Joseph stood for a moment outside the door, studying the figures in the crowded room. Orsamus Turner and Pomeroy Tucker, two of the older boys, were already there, as were some of the men of the village.
Joseph stamped the snow from his shoes and entered the store. It smelled strongly of burning wood, cheese, and wet wool. He joined the group around the stove, scrubbing his hands in its warmth until he was scorched through.
When all the boys had gathered they discussed a subject to debate. Joseph’s penetrating blue eyes deepened as he offered a suggestion. “Ever since the big Genesee camp meeting people hereabouts have been stirred up over religion …”

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf (page 58) shared a story about a man who lived below his privileges as he missed out on the many activities and good food offered on his cruise ship because he didn’t realize all of these things were included in the price of his ticket. Discuss with family members who hold the priesthood ways they can live up to their “privileges when it comes to the sacred power, gifts, and blessings that are [their] opportunity and right as bearers of God’s priesthood.”

My legs felt like gelatin and there was a knot in my stomach as we approached the door. I was sure that I was going to faint as my companion told me that this was my door.
No, I wasn’t a new missionary. I was a 15-year-old home teacher climbing the stairs to the apartment of Sister Rice, a widow living in the Bountiful (Utah) First Ward. Don Gabbott, my companion, was to teach me a great lesson that night about the nurturing role of priesthood bearers to shut-ins who are cut off from the mainstream of Church activity.
Brother Gabbott had given me a topic to present to the five families assigned us, and I was frightened. Inexperienced, I was prepared with some notes on a paper, but I was unsure of how to take the lead in the presence of a high priest.
The response to our knocking was slow in coming. Even though we could see through the storm door window, I was about to suggest that no one was home. Then the shrunken figure of a frail, aged sister, came around a corner in the hallway. She seemed uncertain of what waited her answer at the door. Her face brightened as she recognized Brother Gabbott. We were invited into her living room and asked to take a seat.
After a short greeting, Brother Gabbott looked at me as if to say, “Okay, Bob, it’s time to give our message.” The knot in my stomach tightened as I began to speak. I cannot recall what I said—it doesn’t really matter—for I was the pupil in the classroom of priesthood duty and responsibility. As I glanced up from my notes at the conclusion of my remarks, my eyes fell upon the tear-stained cheeks of that sweet, sensitive sister. She expressed her gratitude for the presence of priesthood bearers in her humble home.
I was speechless. What had I done? What had I said that had been so profound? What could I do? Fortunately, Brother Gabbott came to my rescue by bearing his testimony and asking if there were any needs in the home. There were.
Sister Rice said that she had not been feeling well and asked that she be remembered as we offered our prayer before leaving. She then turned to me and asked if I would offer that prayer. By that time, I was so overcome by the spirit of the occasion that the request numbed me. I was surprised that I was asked to pray when someone older and more experienced and trusted was present. Automatically, I consented and offered a benediction upon that home teaching visit, asking that a special blessing of health and strength be given to that faithful sister whom I barely knew but quickly came to love and respect.
Twenty-five years have passed since my introduction to home teaching in the home of Sister Rice, and she has long since passed away. But I cannot pass that orange-brick fourplex on Bountiful’s Main Street without thinking about the experience provided by Brother Gabbott and a faithful sister who knew the appropriateness of calling upon the powers of heaven embodied in an obedient high priest and an insecure, frightened teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood.

Photograph from Getty Images
I would like to say something about the last wagon in each of the long wagon trains that toiled slowly over the plains. …
… Back in the last wagon, not always could they see the Brethren way out in front, and the blue heaven was often shut out from their sight by heavy, dense clouds of the dust of the earth. Yet day after day, they of the last wagon pressed forward, worn and tired, footsore, sometimes almost disheartened, borne up by their faith that God loved them, that the restored gospel was true, and that the Lord led and directed the Brethren out in front. Sometimes, they in the last wagon glimpsed, for an instant, when faith surged strongest, the glories of a celestial world, but it seemed so far away, and the vision so quickly vanished because want and weariness and heartache and sometimes discouragement were always pressing so near.
When the vision faded, their hearts sank. But they prayed again and pushed on, with little praise, with not too much encouragement, and never with adulation. … Yet in that last wagon there was devotion and loyalty and integrity and, above and beyond everything else, faith in the Brethren and in God’s power and goodness. …
So through dust and dirt, … they crept along till, passing down through its portals, the valley welcomed them to rest and home. …
But hundreds of these stalwart souls of undoubting faith and great prowess were not yet at their journey’s end.
Brother Brigham [Young] again called them to the colors of the kingdom of God and sent them to settle the valleys, near and remote, in [the] vast mountains of refuge. So again they yoked their oxen and hitched up their teams, and … wended their slow way to new valleys, again trusting with implicit faith in the wisdom and divine guidance of their Moses. …
And thousands upon thousands of these tens of thousands, from the first till now, all the elect of God, measured to their humble calling and to their destiny as fully as Brother Brigham and the others measured to theirs, and God will so reward them. They were pioneers in word and thought and act and faith, even as were they of more exalted station. The building of this intermountain empire was not done in a corner by a select few but by this vast multitude flowing in from many nations, who came and labored and wrought, faithfully following their divinely called leaders. …
So to these humble but great souls, … I humbly render my love, my respect, my reverent homage.

1. When I don’t mind my parents
And want to have my way,
I soon feel very sorry
For things I do and say.
And so I ask forgiveness
To show I really care.
I talk to Heav’nly Father,
Who always hears my prayer.

Following his election to Parliament in 2011, Dr. Patrick Chikusu served as Zambia’s deputy minister of health until his death in 2013. His ethics and high standards made an immediate impact in the government. For example, he returned any unused money after completing travel assignments. He requested women working in his office wear modest, professional office attire. He soon noticed women in the other offices in the ministry had adopted similar dress standards. Sister Chikusu said people appreciated her husband’s honesty and good example.

In 1961, Elder Marion G. Romney of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave Church literature to the president, Roberto F. Chiari. When the government officially recognized the Church in 1965, missionary efforts began.

I recently learned a valuable lesson about seeing deeply from a young woman named Rozlyn.

The story was shared with me by my friend who was devastated when her husband of 20 years moved out. With her children splitting time between parents, the prospect of attending church alone seemed daunting. She recounts:

“In a church where the family is of paramount importance, sitting solo can be painful. That first Sunday I walked in praying no one would speak to me. I was barely holding it together, and tears were on the brink. I sat in my typical spot, hoping no one would notice how empty the bench seemed.

“A young woman in our ward turned and looked at me. I pretended to smile. She smiled back. I could see the concern in her face. I silently pleaded that she wouldn’t come to talk to me—I had nothing positive to say and knew I would cry. I looked back down at my lap and avoided eye contact.

“During the next hour, I noticed her looking back at me occasionally. As soon as the meeting ended, she made a beeline for me. ‘Hi, Rozlyn,’ I whispered. She wrapped me in her arms and said, ‘Sister Smith, I can tell today is a bad day for you. I’m so sorry. I love you.’ As predicted, the tears came as she hugged me again. But as I walked away, I thought to myself, ‘Maybe I can do this after all.’

“That sweet 16-year-old young woman, less than half my age, found me every Sunday for the rest of that year to give me a hug and ask, ‘How are you?’ It made such a difference in how I felt about coming to church. The truth is I started to rely on those hugs. Someone noticed me. Someone knew I was there. Someone cared.”

I am not a Mormon—yet. I heard of the Church from some of my friends a few years ago. The bishop here in town encouraged me to get the New Era. I love it! Some of my friends whom I am trying to interest in the Church want me to get pamphlets for them, and they also want to read my New Eras. A Mormon friend said I should go on a mission. I don’t think my parents would like me to be a missionary right now, but even so one of my friends was baptized last month with a little of my encouragement. How do you think I’m doing?
Carolyn CookKinston, North Carolina

The last story took place later that fall while a family was taking a pleasant, 3 1/2-mile hike to a beautiful lake in the Cascades. As they returned down the trail later that day, their young daughter started falling behind. They weren’t really too concerned as it was a good trail, it was still light, and they had been on similar hikes before. The parents continued down the trail, arriving at the road just a few minutes ahead of their daughter, so they thought. After waiting for more than an hour for her, they became concerned and started back up the trail in search. This started a search that would last three days and cost thousands of dollars and many man-hours.
The third illustration even more effectively points out the value of always carrying a whistle and being trained in its use. The little girl had wandered off the trail while picking flowers and had gotten lost in the process. After wandering around for many hours, she lay down beside a large tree where she remained in shock and exhaustion for two days while searchers walked all around the area looking for her. When she was finally found on the third day, she was only 100 yards from the trail!

When I was rushed to the emergency room with both of my lungs collapsed, I thought I was at the end of my life. I was not yet ready emotionally or spiritually for the end, but my body was giving up on me. It was hard for my family to see me in that condition, but they remained strong, and I was blessed to have survived.
My struggles did not end there. Since then, I’ve had to live my life with only one functioning lung and a curved spine. Every day is painful and difficult. I once thought that I would be better off dead rather than to continue suffering. I felt weak, not just physically, but mentally and spiritually as well. I lost hope and confidence. I began to push away the people in my life who encouraged me. But my family never gave up on me. They loved and cared for me, and my friends continued to support me. Even so, I still felt that my future was not going to be as bright as I had imagined.
One night I found myself feeling so down. I decided I needed to read my patriarchal blessing. Tears came to my eyes the moment I read the first few lines, “Our Father in Heaven cares for you and loves you. He wants you to be happy in this life.”
In that moment, I realized that Heavenly Father really has a very bright future in store for me and wonderful blessings for me to anticipate as long as I follow the path He wants me to take.
Our Father in Heaven knew that we would all struggle, so He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to suffer for us and to comfort us. That’s how vast Their love for us is. I may still struggle every day of my life here on earth, but I know that Their love will always be there for me and Their promises will be all fulfilled if I hold on and follow Them.

I recall that when the Saints settled in a new area, they were troubled about how permanently they were to build their houses. They had often moved from place to place. When they asked the Prophet Joseph Smith about this, he said, “Build as if you are going to stay forever.” The founders of our country—as we believe, divinely inspired—built our nation to endure. And our Church leaders today never for a moment lose sight of their sacred mission. They are building for us, for those to follow, for the future, for eternity.

Mary Ann Stearns, step-daughter of Elder Parley P. Pratt, in her unpublished autobiography, relates an experience that her family had with the Prophet Joseph that also illustrates his great capacity for kindness. Returning from his mission to England with his family and a group of immigrants by way of St. Louis, Missouri the group was detained four weeks because of cold weather and the great chunks of ice that floated on the a!most frozen Mississippi River. When they finally did arrive in Nauvoo the anxiety of the Britons to see the Prophet Joseph was only exceeded by the anxiety of the Saints in Nauvoo concerning the safety of the immigrants. Thus Joseph and Hyrum and a large company of people were at the landing to greet the newcomers. Elder Pratt introduced the company to the two illustrious leaders and when all except the Pratts had disembarked and had gone to their homes, the Prophet came into the cabin of the boat where the Pratts were.
“After a cordial greeting, he took a seat and taking the little boys, Parley and Nathan, upon his knees, seemed much affected, Brother Pratt remarking, ‘We took away three children and have brought back five.’ Then Brother Joseph said, “Well, well, Brother Parley, you have returned bringing your sheaves with you,” the tears streaming down his face. Brother Pratt, seeing the general emotion this caused, said, ‘If you feel so bad about our coming home, I guess we will have to go back again,’ tears of joy filling his own eyes.”
Elder Pratt’s remark seemed to break the spell, smiles returned and joy continued to fill all their hearts. Then Joseph, arising, said, “Come, Brother Parley, bring your folks right up to my house; it is only a little way, and you can be more comfortable after your long journey.” Sister Pratt, very ill, was placed in a large comfortable chair and carried by Brother Hodge and others of Joseph’s bodyguards to the Prophet’s home where a really special evening was enjoyed by the entire family.

(96) To receive the blessings promised in his patriarchal blessing, Carlos A. Godoy, with his wife’s support, seeks additional education.

Indexing has brought a simplicity and ease to family history work. “In the past if you were looking for relatives, you had to wind through microfilm. When you found a family member you were looking for, you might be able to find connecting names. So you would rewind and wind the microfilm again and again,” says József Szabadkai, an indexer in Hungary.
Batches from countries around the world are being provided for indexing as records from those countries are acquired by FamilySearch. Brother Szabadkai is from Hungary, but he began indexing records in English and Afrikaans until records from his own country were available. “It was one of the happiest moments when the first Hungarian batch was announced in the beginning of 2011,” says Brother Szabadkai. “Many Hungarian members—young and old—have registered and become ‘maniac’ indexers since that time.” Brother Szabadkai’s enthusiasm stems from the hope that many of his own ancestors will be found as these records are transcribed. “As we build up this fantastic database, we will be able to find more of our family names, saving time and helping our ancestors receive their saving ordinances faster.”