Gospel Story Finder

Annie liked going to garage sales with her mom. One Saturday they found some jeans for Annie and some clothes for her brothers. Annie wore the jeans to school the next Monday.
In the cafeteria Jenny pointed at Annie. “I saw you at our neighbors’ garage sale. You bought those jeans there.”
Annie nodded. “Aren’t they great?”
“You wear other people’s old clothes,” Jenny said, laughing with her friends. “Garage-Sale Annie!” she mocked. The other girls started to chant the name too.
Annie quickly picked up her lunch tray and took it to the counter where the trays were stacked. In class she kept her head down and did her work. After school she hurried home.
She found Mom looking at a picture book with Annie’s baby brother, Hyrum. “Can we go shopping at the mall on Saturday?” Annie asked.
Mom looked up. “Why do you want to go to the mall?”
“I’m tired of going to garage sales,” Annie said.
“I thought you liked going to garage sales with me,” Mom said.
“I did, but one of the girls at school saw us at the garage sale on Saturday, and she told everyone I was wearing other people’s clothes. They started calling me Garage-Sale Annie.”
Mom put Hyrum on the floor and set a plastic truck in front of him. “I’m sorry, Annie,” Mom said. “That must have hurt.”
Annie nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek.
“Let me ask you something,” Mom said. “Is there anything wrong with buying clothes at garage sales?”
Annie shook her head.
“Did you like the jeans?”
“Yes, but why can’t I have clothes from stores in the mall like my friends do?” Annie asked.
“Your dad and I decided there are more important things to spend money on than brand-new clothes,” her mother said.
“What things?” Annie asked
“Things like paying tithing, saving for missions and college, and letting me stay at home with you and your brothers,” Mom answered.
Annie looked at Hyrum on the floor playing with the truck and smiled when he gurgled at her. Maybe Mom was right. Their money could be used for more important things. Maybe shopping at garage sales really was a blessing for their whole family.
“I guess I didn’t think of those things,” she whispered.
Mom hugged Annie tight. “I know it’s hard,” she said, “but sometimes we give up certain things so we can do other more important things.”
Annie thought about it some more throughout the day. “I’m glad we pay tithing and save money for other things,” she told Mom as she went to bed. “And I’m proud of my new jeans.”
Soon Annie wore the jeans again, this time with a bright blue shirt. When the other girls called her Garage-Sale Annie, she only smiled.

Through their efforts and the efforts of other missionary couples, LDS Charities provided training and equipment to vision clinics and organizations serving those with physical disabilities. Among those that the Hammonds and other welfare missionaries supported was a center that teaches women with physical disabilities how to design and make specialty clothing and craft items. These skills gave students the opportunity to better provide for themselves and their families.
Photograph courtesy of LDS Charities

To the missionaries, the missionaries who came knocking on my door to bring me the message of the restoration of the gospel, to those who taught me, who baptized me, to those with whom I had the great pleasure to work in the France-Switzerland Mission, missionaries whom I respect for their dedication, their sacrifice, and their example.

When an interviewer criticized The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as “a church run by old men,” President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) responded, “Isn’t it wonderful to have a man of maturity at the head, a man of judgment who isn’t blown about by every wind of doctrine?”

I often make mistakes, as I’m sure everyone else does. This is why we have repentance and the Atonement. Once I was asked by a teacher if I was LDS when I was wearing a BYU sweatshirt. I gladly replied with a yes. I guess how we dress, as well as how we act or speak, sends a hidden message.
Sam Converse, 15Delaware, Ohio

A doctor and his wife wanted to fight everything we taught them, but somehow they knew they couldn’t. Even though they didn’t accept the restored gospel of Jesus Christ at that time, they were happy to let their children visit the branch in Glückstadt for Sunday meetings and branch activities.

As bishop, President Monson learned the importance of obeying the Spirit. After failing to act on a prompting to visit an elderly ward member in the hospital, he was devastated to discover that the ward member had died calling his name. In that moment, he promised God he would always follow the Spirit, wherever it led him.1 Because of his obedience, he was a blessing and a miracle in the lives of many.

I wanted to let you know that “And the Winner Is …” (September 1991) was the answer to my prayers. For several months I’ve been training for the cross-country team to get in shape. As the season began, I realized I was much slower than my teammates. I wanted to quit, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did, so I asked Heavenly Father for encouragement.
When I read Brother DeHaan’s article, I knew I had received my answer. Now I read it whenever I have doubts about my performance on the team.
Meredith QuinnPasadena, California

When I think of my father, I call him my father; but my two brothers and two sisters would remind me that he isn’t just my father, he is our father.
In thinking of my grandfather, if I were to claim him as mine alone, not only my brothers and sisters would remind me that grandfather is our grandfather, but my first cousins would join in the chorus to say, “He is our grandfather, as well.” If I were to mention my great-grandfather as mine, second cousins would add their voices and remind me that great-grandfather is ours.
It is apparent, then, that ours is a shared ancestry. We shouldn’t think back and say “mine, mine, mine”; we should say “ours, ours, ours.” The farther back we reach, the greater the chorus swells.

Fill one of the balloons with air and tie it off. Explain that the balloon represents one day. Now light the candle.

The candle represents all of the negative things that people can say or do to us. And when you hold the balloon above the candle flame, it’s as if you’re exposing your day to all of the negativity that can and does bombard you. Lower the balloon closer and closer to the flame, and watch out—the balloon will pop! Explain that when we come into contact with negative influences, without the proper preparation and protection, it’s very hard to stay positive, and we can feel like the day was terrible.

Now, take the second balloon. This balloon also represents one day. But before you fill it with any air, add a few ounces of water. The water represents all of the positive ways we can arm ourselves against negativity: we love our families, we pray daily, we remind ourselves of Christ’s love, we serve others, we smile. Now, fill the balloon with air and tie it off. (Be careful not to let go before you tie it off, or you’ll spray yourself with water!)

Hold this balloon above the candle. Now lower it down until it’s touching the flame. Guess what? It doesn’t pop! The water conducts the heat from the candle away from the latex of the balloon and protects it from popping. Cool! This shows us the way that our daily efforts to stay positive can protect us from letting the negative influences of the world ruin our day.

“Rhoda, will you offer the blessing on the food?” Mama asked.
Rhoda looked at the small potato on her plate. “But there is still so much plate showing around my dinner,” she wanted to say but didn’t. “Yes, Mama,” she said.
Bowing her head, she began, “Heavenly Father, thank Thee for the food, and please bless it. Watch over Daddy in England that he will find those who are looking for the truth. And please provide food and safety for us while he is away. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Rhoda opened her eyes and noticed her sister, Louisa, staring at Mama’s empty plate.
“Mama, where’s your food?” Louisa asked.
“Willard is out working in the fields,” Mama replied. “When he comes in, he’s going to want more than just water to drink.”
Rhoda could see worry lines around her sister’s eyes. “Are there no more potatoes?” Louisa asked.
Mama shook her head. “Those are the last ones. So eat up before they get cold.”
Rhoda stared at Mama. “But Mama, what will we do for breakfast in the morning?”
“Well, in your prayer you asked the Lord to provide for us while Daddy is away,” Mama replied. “I trust He will answer your prayer.”
“Mama!” Willard burst through the door. “Quick! The Judds have turned the canal water into their ditches!”
“Hurry, girls,” Mama said. “Buckets are outside!”
Rhoda jumped from the table, following Willard and Louisa outdoors. Each one grabbed a large, wooden bucket and raced down the dusty path to the canal.
Even though Rhoda was only eight years old, she understood about the canal. Like a man-made river, the canal was the source of water for all the homesteads in the area. The canal also provided water for irrigating crops. Farmers would turn some of the water from the canal into ditches lining their crops. Then the water would flow out of the ditches and flood the land. But once in a while, a farmer would turn all the canal water into his ditches, leaving the homesteads downstream without water until he finished irrigating his crops. And Rhoda knew that even one day without water in this scorching heat would be dangerous.
When the children arrived at the canal, the water flow had already stopped, leaving a still bed of water resting in the bottom. Rhoda filled her bucket with water, carried it back to the house, and poured it into the large rain barrel beside the front door. Back and forth the children ran, trying to fill the barrel before the water dried up.
“One more bucket each ought to do it,” Mama called.
Even though the sun hung low, almost touching the horizon, the dirt felt hot and gritty on the bottoms of Rhoda’s feet. Reaching the canal, they found that the stream was now dried up, leaving a muddy bed pocked with small, shallow pools. Rhoda jumped down into the damp streambed, mud spurting between her toes. Reaching the edge of one of the shallow pools, she leaned over to dip her bucket into the water. Suddenly she lost her balance and fell, splashing into the pool.
Willard and Louisa laughed as Rhoda stood up. Her dress clung to her back and belly, and warm water dripped down her arms and legs. When she reached down to grab her bucket, something slippery slithered past her ankles. “Snake!” Rhoda screeched, scrambling out of the pool.
Willard raced over, peering at the small pool.
“There!” Rhoda cried, pointing a finger at the water.
Willard’s eyes scanned the murky water. His hand circled the surface, then suddenly he thrust his arm into the water and grabbed at something.
“It’s a fish!” Willard shouted, holding a small, wriggling fish in his palm. “I caught a fish!”
“Look! There must be more in that pool over there!” Rhoda pointed.
“And over there,” Louisa shouted, pointing at another. All the small pools of water rippled with life.
“Let’s fill our buckets and take them to Mama,” Louisa suggested.
There was little water left in the pools and the fish swarmed in tight bunches, making it easy for the children to snatch them up. Soon their buckets were filled and the children carried them back to the cabin.
“Mama! Look what we found in the canal!” Rhoda called as they reached the cabin door.
“Fish? In the canal?” Mama looked confused. “There aren’t any fish in that canal.”
“There are tonight. The shallow pools are full of them,” Louisa said.
“But there have never been fish in that canal,” Mama said quietly, staring at the full buckets of fish. “Children, this is a miracle. Just as He sent manna to the hungry Israelites, the Lord has sent fish for us to eat.”
Reaching for Rhoda’s bucket, she continued, “And just like the children of Israel, we must gather all we can while there are fish to catch. Go and see if there are any more, and I will begin cleaning these and packing them in salt.”
The sun sank into the prairie grasses and a full moon lit the night as the children returned to search for more fish. As Rhoda knelt down in the mud, she closed her eyes and spoke softly. “Heavenly Father, thank Thee for answering my prayer and for taking care of us. Thank Thee for sending us the miracle of the fishes.”

Following the meal, Sister Bentley, who is 89 years old, spoke on behalf of all the secret grandmothers. Raising her hand to her ear, she commented about her anonymous Beehive:
“I’d hear a knock at the front door and I’d go to answer it. Nobody was there, but down on the step would be another gift.” Pausing, she peered around at her listeners rather mysteriously. “I’d always call out, ‘Thank you,’ but nobody ever answered.”
After the laughter subsided, she expressed gratitude to all the girls. “Your smiles are what we all love to see. Please keep smiling at us. This evening has been just lovely.”

I learned this for myself when my oldest son received his first cell phone. With great excitement, he began entering the names of his family and friends into his contacts. One day I noticed his mom was calling. On the screen appeared the name “Mother.” That was a sensible and dignified choice—and, I’ll admit, a sign of respect for the better parent in our home. Naturally, I got curious. What name had he given me?
I scrolled through his contacts, assuming that if Wendi was “Mother,” I must be “Father.” Not there. I searched for “Dad.” Still nothing. My curiosity turned into mild concern. “Does he call me ‘Corey’?” No. In a last-ditch effort, I thought, “We’re soccer players—maybe he calls me ‘Pelé.’” Wishful thinking. Finally, I called his number myself, and two words popped up on his screen: “Not Mother”!

Brad wants to be just like Nathan when it comes to serving in the Church, too. When they received the Aaronic Priesthood, Nathan started passing the sacrament. Brad also wanted to pass the sacrament, but the routes around the chapel didn’t allow enough room to maneuver his wheelchair.

Nathan worked with the bishop to change the routes. The new version assigned all of the front pews to Brad, which left plenty of room for his wheelchair. Then he and Brad started passing the sacrament together.

“How long is it until I can get baptized?” Lizzie asked during dinner. She was excited to turn eight soon. She had already asked her older brother Jake to baptize her before he left on his mission.
“In two months, right after your birthday,” Mom said.
“That seems so far away!” Lizzie said. She stared at her plate, trying not to seem disappointed.
Lizzie wanted to be baptized so badly. She liked the safe, happy feeling she felt at church, almost like a hug around her heart. Mom said that feeling was the Holy Ghost. Lizzie wanted to be baptized so she could be clean and have the Holy Ghost with her all the time.
“I know it’s hard to wait,” Dad said. “Maybe it would help if you think about the promises you’ll be making when you’re baptized and practice keeping them now.”
Lizzie thought about that as she cleared the table after dinner. “Dad’s right,” she thought. “Two months isn’t so long. And when the day comes, I want to be ready to promise to be good and choose the right.”
Lizzie felt that safe feeling inside again, and she smiled as she offered to help wash the dishes.
As the days passed, Lizzie tried to be more reverent and listen to the lessons at church. She especially loved hearing about Jesus. She put a picture of Him by her bed to remind her to think about Him more.
Lizzie also tried harder to do what was right. She was friendly to a new boy in her class. She was more patient with her sister Whitney and even let her be the princess when they played. Lizzie tried to be helpful and obedient to her parents. And when she did something unkind or wrong, Lizzie said she was sorry.
Finally, the week came when Lizzie would be baptized. Bishop Cohen interviewed her to see if she was ready. He asked if she believed in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
Lizzie thought back to the lessons she had had in the past weeks. “Yes, I believe,” she said. She was glad she had been paying more attention in Primary and family home evening.
Then Bishop Cohen asked her some questions about keeping the commandments. Lizzie remembered how she had been trying hard to do what was right, and it felt good to be able to tell that to Bishop Cohen.
When her baptism day arrived, Lizzie put on her white dress. As she stepped down into the baptismal font, the water swirled around her legs, just warm enough. Lizzie felt her heart being hugged.
Jake smiled at Lizzie and took her hand. She was glad that he was there to baptize her, and she felt peaceful and calm knowing that she was ready.

Sara Magee of Portadown will talk about standards. “Most of my friends, if someone offered me a cigarette or a drink, they’d say, ‘Nope, Sara, you’re not allowed.’” Karen Weir of Portadown will tell you how having the London Temple re-opened and the Preston Temple under construction has made a lot of people curious about the Church. Simon Noble of the Holywood Road Ward describes a stake play that was a missionary play, too. “It was all about the plan of salvation, and we invited non-LDS friends to come and learn about what we believe,” Simon says.

I recall when I was in a freshman English class and the professor was insisting that, to describe a situation, one of the students must substitute a crude expression for one gentler. I was jarred at an expression which I had seldom heard and never in harmonious circumstances. Years later in graduate school I had a conversation with a friend who argued that one should be, as he called it, direct, even if rude and insensitive to others’ feelings. Unfortunately, the spirit animating these incidents has taken firm hold on society and is found even among the Saints. Over the years, there has been an increase in sexual innuendos, raucous humor, violent expressions, and great noise in talk, in music, in gestures. Much around us is crude and rude, with a corruption of moral behavior and sensitivity. Society has not been improved by our “light speeches” and our “light-mindedness.” Instead, our expressions have polluted our communities and corrupted our souls.

Alexander the Great, king of Macedon, pupil of Aristotle, conqueror of most of the known world in his time, was one of the world’s great young leaders. After years of exercising military pomp and prowess and after extending his kingdom from Macedonia to Egypt and from Cyprus to India, he wept when there seemed to be no more world to conquer. Then, as evidence of just how ephemeral such power is, Alexander caught a fever and died at thirty-three years of age. The vast kingdom he had gained virtually died with him.

I will always be grateful for a father and a mother who, as far back as I can remember, taught us to pay our tithing. In those days, in the ward in which we lived, the bishop did not have an office in the meetinghouse. We went to his home for tithing settlement. I can still sense my feelings of trepidation as I walked into that home as a very small boy to settle my tithing with Bishop John C. Duncan. The amount may have been only twenty-five cents, since we did not have very much of an allowance in those lean times, but it was an honest 10 percent as we had figured it in our childish way, based on the little couplet that we would recite in Sunday School:
What is tithing? I will tell you every time.
Ten cents from a dollar, and a penny from a dime.
We never felt that it was a sacrifice to pay our tithing. We felt it was an obligation, that even as small children we were doing our duty as the Lord had outlined that duty, and that we were assisting his church in the great work it had to accomplish.
We did not do it with the expectation of material blessings, although we can testify that we have been so blessed. The Lord has opened the windows of heaven and poured out his blessings in marvelous measure. I know that he will bless all who walk in obedience to this commandment.

And then there was the young man in Bogotá who said, “I speak on behalf of the young men of Colombia. We are worthy and we are preparing to serve!”