Gospel Story Finder

One evening several years ago, my wife and I were visiting the home of one of our sons and his wife and children for dinner. It was a typical event for a family with small children: there was much noise and even more fun. Shortly after dinner our four-year-old granddaughter, Anna, and I were still sitting at the table. Realizing that she had my full attention, she stood up straight on a bench and fixed her eyes on me. When she was sure that I was looking at her, she solemnly ordered me to “watch and learn.” She then danced and sang a song for me.
Anna’s instruction to “watch and learn” was wisdom from the mouth of a babe. We can learn so much by watching and then considering what we have seen and felt. In that spirit, let me share with you a few principles I have observed by watching and learning from wonderful, faithful marriages. These principles build strong, satisfying marriages that are compatible with heavenly principles. I invite you to watch and learn with me.

Outside, the typhoon was raging. But inside, there was a calm, peaceful spirit.
Gathered in their small Philippine home in December 1987, the Paronda family was kneeling in prayer. Brother Ruben Paronda, normally soft-spoken, had to raise his voice almost to a shout as he prayed. Even so, his wife, Nelly, and their children had to strain to hear his words above the pounding rain and the relentless howling of the wind. The prayer was filled with pleadings to the Lord to calm the storm.
The town of Tigaon, Camarines Sur, Philippines, is in the typhoon belt—and the Paronda family has seen many storms. But this time they were more desperate than ever for the storm to stop. It was keeping them from traveling to Manila to be sealed in the temple. And this was the second time their temple trip was being threatened.
Eleven months after the jeepney accident, they had finally saved enough money again to make the trip. Then the typhoon hit! Their home and store were spared, but their crops were destroyed. Streets were flooded, and travel was impossible.
Surrounded by chaos, they still felt that their most urgent need was to get to the temple immediately. “We were in a hurry to be sealed,” explains Brother Paronda. Unfortunately, in only two or three days the temple would close for several weeks.
Finally, during the night at the height of the storm, the family knelt in prayer. “We asked the Lord to stop the storm so we could go,” says Brother Paronda. “Heavenly Father answered our prayer. The storm stopped during the night, and we had good weather for our journey.”
The next day, they rented a jeepney (their own was still not in running condition), and Brother and Sister Paronda and the eight children crowded inside for the fifteen-hour trip. After driving through the night, they arrived at the temple the day before it was to close. Immediately they changed into white clothes, and everyone who was old enough (father, mother, and six children) received the temple endowment.
Then the parents were sealed to each other, and the children were sealed to them—including their son Alan who had died twelve years earlier as an eight-month-old baby. “Even though Alan isn’t living with us at this time,” says Marilyn, “we know that someday we will be together again. He is still a part of our family.”
“I am so grateful,” says Sister Nelly Paronda, “that my whole family can now be together forever.”
When they left the temple that day, it was late. And they had had no rest from their journey. “But we did not feel tired or hungry,” says Marilyn. “We felt very happy that the Lord had answered our prayers.”
The following day, they attended the temple again. Later, the oldest son, Noel, was sealed in the temple with his wife and children. And family members have returned to do ordinance work for grandparents and great-grandparents.

Theresa and Reiner Bradley met in a hospital. She was visiting a friend, and he was working his way through college as an orderly. When he walked into her friend’s hospital room, Theresa remembers thinking, “Wow, this guy is tall.” Standing 1.82-meters-tall herself, she was aware of height. Reiner is two meters tall. “He remembered my phone number when I gave it to my friend, and he called me,” says Theresa. They were married a year later. It was while the couple was stationed in Germany, fulfilling an obligation in the army, that Shawn was born. After finishing his schooling as a medical technologist, Reiner moved his young family back to Theresa’s hometown of Castle Dale, Utah. They wanted a small-town atmosphere for their children.

On the six Saturdays prior to Christmas, the Solihull businesses use the parking area adjacent to the Church area offices in Birmingham, England, as an overflow for Christmas shoppers. The young men of the Birmingham Second Ward saw it as a prime opportunity to have a special fund raising project for charity. They set up a car wash.
“The car wash was the idea of the youth,” said David Cook, Young Men president, “and I was proud not only of the effort they put in, but their dedication and high standard of performance.”
The young men took great care, and some car owners were so impressed they had their cars washed each week. And even though the young men were cold and wet at the end of each Saturday, they did not complain. They used half of their earnings to buy new sports equipment for youth activities and donated the other half of the money to three charities.

“His family had two boys and two girls in it, just like ours,” Julie noticed. “But look—the last one died the day she was born.”
“November 15th,” Dad said without having to look. “Grandpa told me that his sister was born prematurely and was just too tiny to live. But they always remembered Baby Annie and put a rosebud on her grave every November 15th.”
“That must have been a sad day,” Julie said quietly.
“It was,” Dad agreed. “But it was happy, too. It reminded them that they had a sister they could see again someday.”
“I wonder,” Amanda said, “if anyone remembers Baby Annie now?”
“We can!” Scott suggested. “Can’t we, Mom?”
“I think that would be nice,” Mom said, smiling. “I’ll mark November 15th on our calendar.”

Several months ago, a stake president and I visited a sister in his stake and her young adult son. After years away from the Church, wandering difficult and unfriendly paths, she had returned. During our visit, we asked her why she had come back.
“I had made a mess of my life,” she said, “and I knew where I needed to be.”
I then asked her what she had learned in her journey.
With some emotion, she shared that she had learned that she needed to attend church long enough to break the habit of not coming and that she needed to stay until it was where she wanted to be. Her return was not easy, but as she exercised faith in the Father’s plan, she felt the Spirit return.
And then she added, “I have learned for myself that God is good and that His ways are better than mine.”

I remember when President Nelson invited the sisters and youth of the Church to do social media fasts. Since accepting that first invitation, I’ve fasted from social media multiple times when I’ve felt that it’s creating the “impression that everyone except [me] is leading a fun, adventurous, and exciting life.”2
Through taking much-needed breaks from social media, I’ve learned about the importance of real-life relationships and gained a greater appreciation for finding joy through hobbies and spiritual habits.
I’ve also been able to see others from a more Christlike view instead of judging them by the life highlights they post. As President Nelson added, “Social media … creates a false reality,”3 and if we take a break from it, we can better remember the things that matter most, overcome the world,4 and focus on the Spirit.

With social distancing, it’s hard to stay inside, but Alexander F., age 5, Ontario, Canada, had a great idea. He was looking through old Friend magazines and asked Daddy if they could build a rocket ship together just like on one of the covers!

Twenty-three year old Tom Monson, a relatively new bishop, before leaving home that night, had received a telephone call informing him that an older member of his ward was ill and had been admitted to the hospital for care. Could the bishop, the caller wondered, find a moment to go by the hospital sometime and give a blessing? The busy young leader explained that he was just on his way to a stake meeting but that he certainly would be pleased to go by the hospital as soon as the meeting was concluded.

Now the prompting was stronger than ever: “Leave the meeting and proceed to the hospital at once.” But the stake president himself was speaking at the pulpit! It would be most discourteous to stand in the middle of the presiding officer’s message, make one’s way over an entire row of brethren, and then exit the building altogether. Painfully he waited out the final moments of the stake president’s message, then bolted for the door even before the benediction had been pronounced.

Running the full length of the corridor on the fourth floor of the hospital, the young bishop saw a flurry of activity outside the designated room. A nurse stopped him and said, “Are you Bishop Monson?”

“Yes,” was the anxious reply.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “The patient was calling your name just before he passed away.”

He vowed then and there that he would never again fail to act upon a prompting from the Lord. He would acknowledge the impressions of the Spirit when they came, and he would follow wherever they led him, ever to be “on the Lord’s errand.”

When I was older, I moved away to attend a Church school in my country, Kiribati. My dad advised me to get a good education so I could have a good job and help support my family. After attending the Church school for a little while, I was baptized.

I sat in a group of members of the Church. We had never met each other before, but we all had one thing in common: we were single.
Now, I want to back up for a second. In the gospel of Jesus Christ, we are not defined by labels. Our true identity, President Russell M. Nelson taught, is that we are “literally spirit children of God.” I understand that out of necessity we call some members of the Church single. There are practical reasons for that. But sometimes, as seemed to be the case in this situation, it can contribute to making members feel like outsiders. It may even make it difficult for them to feel fully included in God’s blessings of salvation and exaltation.
You see, we were talking about the temple—and some people in the group felt that being single excluded them from receiving a fulness of temple blessings. I understand; when you aren’t married in a family-centered Church, it can be hard to see how you fit in. But I also know that the Lord does not judge whether a person is worthy to receive promised blessings based on outward appearances or labels. He “looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7) and makes His blessings available to all who choose to follow Him. I believe this with my whole heart. So, with that in mind, here are three principles to help Latter-day Saints who are single know that they belong in God’s plan and in the temple.

“Well, it all started when my brother and I went with our father to a cattle auction thirty miles from home. We went by horseback and only planned to be gone a few days, but my father soon realized we’d need to be away longer. He was afraid that Mother would worry, so he asked me to head home the next day.
“I told him that I’d go but was nervous about going alone. He put his strong, work-worn hands on my shoulders and said, ‘Jonathan, you can use a compass as well as any man I know. You’ll be just fine.’
“Early the next day I started homeward, and by the time I made camp that night, I felt foolish about being so nervous. I was more than halfway home, and nothing had gone wrong.
“The following morning, as I got ready to leave, I thought about the delicious homemade rolls my mother baked every Thursday. I could imagine the steam rising from them as she took them out of the oven. I was so busy thinking about those rolls that I didn’t notice how large and gray the clouds were getting. It wasn’t until a sharp wind blew through my jacket that I realized I was heading right into a storm.
“The longer I rode, the bigger and blacker the clouds became, until it looked like I could reach up and touch them. When the storm broke, it wasn’t too bad. I figured if it didn’t get any worse, I’d make it home with no problem, and I started to relax.
“Just then, a loud roar sounded in my ears, and sheets of ice and snow hit me so hard I was nearly swept out of my saddle. I knew that if my horse and I were going to survive, I had to get us to safety quickly, The problem was that I didn’t know how to do it. We were in the middle of nowhere, and the snow was coming down so hard I could barely see my horse’s head.
“That’s when I started using my second compass, Jeff. The one that’s in here.” he tapped his chest. “I’d tried using it before, but not like I tried then. This was an emergency, and I needed the Lord’s help right away.”
A cold shiver passed through me as I asked Granddad what he did next.
“I reined in my horse, bowed my head, and offered a heartfelt prayer. I asked the Lord to spare my life and to help me find a way out of the storm.
“We moved forward again, straining against the icy wind until my horse refused to go any farther. I got down, took the reins in my hands, and began walking. Five steps later, I ran into a fence.
“I felt impressed to find out where it led, so I tied my horse to a fence post and walked until I came to a shed. Working my way around to the front, I opened the door and found a small herd of sheep. Generally I don’t care for the smell of sheep, and bunking down with them sure wasn’t what I had in mind when I prayed. But I knew that the Lord had answered my prayer, and I was truly grateful.
“Going back for my horse, I led him into the shed and made him as comfortable as possible. Then I waded right into the middle of those sheep. Fortunately someone had just put a new batch of straw down, and it was dry and warm.”
Laughing, I asked Granddad if he thought the sheep minded him climbing into the middle of them.
“They weren’t exactly pleased about it. In fact, they made it real hard for me to wedge my way in,” Granddad said with a chuckle. “But I kept pushing and pulling, and pretty soon I had enough room to lie down.”
“How long did you stay there? Were you able to keep warm? Did you go to sleep? Did—”
“Whoa, Jeff,” Granddad said. “Give me a chance to answer. I’m not sure how long I was there. I slept so soundly that I didn’t wake up until the sheep started moving around the next morning.
“Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I jumped up, thanked them for keeping me warm, and led my horse out of the shed. Three hours later I arrived home, safe and sound.”

Not long ago, a dear friend had an impression to visit a woman in her ward. She brushed off the prompting because she hardly knew her—it just didn’t make sense. But since the thought kept coming to her, she decided to act on the prompting. Because she was already feeling uncomfortable about the impending visit, she determined that taking something to the sister would help ease her anxiety. Certainly she couldn’t go empty-handed! So she bought a container of ice cream, and off she went to begin what she worried might be an awkward visit.
She knocked on the woman’s door, and shortly the sister answered. My friend handed her the ice cream in a brown paper bag, and the conversation began. It didn’t take long for my friend to realize why the visit was needed. As they sat together on the front porch, the woman unveiled a host of challenges she was facing. After an hour of talking in the warm summer weather, my friend noticed the ice cream melting through the brown paper bag.
She exclaimed, “I am so sorry that your ice cream melted!”
The woman sweetly responded, “It’s OK! I’m lactose intolerant!”
In the case of the melted ice cream, what mattered most? The ice cream? Or that my friend simply did something?

Her sister, Liduvina, recalls that their parents were constantly involved in sharing the gospel. For a time in the 1970s, the family home, where the aged Eulogia still lives, served also as a meetinghouse on Sundays. In addition to the more than 60 descendants of Delio and Eulogia in the Church, there are more than two dozen other people who joined because of their example of Christlike living. Liduvina says her parents were also examples of honesty, teaching their children never to do anything of which they would later be ashamed.

I used to farm with my dad. I didn’t always enjoy it, but when lunchtime came we’d sit in the shade of the tall poplar trees, eat our lunch, and talk. My dad didn’t use this as a golden teaching moment to lay down the law and straighten out his daughter. We just talked—about anything and everything.
This was the time I could ask questions. I felt so safe I could even ask questions that might provoke him. I remember asking him, “Why did you embarrass me in front of my friends last week when I had stayed out too late and you came and got me?”
His answer leads to another aspect of love. He wasn’t being arbitrary. There were certain standards of behavior I was expected to live. He said, “Having you out late worried me. Above all, I want you safe.” I realized his love for me was stronger than his desire for sleep or the inconvenience of getting dressed and driving down the road looking for me.

When I served as president of the Canadian Mission, headquartered in Toronto, one missionary came to our mission without some of the talents of others, yet he devotedly plunged into his missionary labors. The work was difficult for him; however, he valiantly struggled to be his best self.
At a zone conference, with a General Authority attending, the missionaries had not done too well in a scripture quiz conducted by the visitor. The visitor, with a little sarcasm, commented, “Why, I don’t believe this group knows even the names of the basic missionary pamphlets and their authors.”
Well, that was the proverbial “straw” that broke the camel’s back. I spoke up: “I think they do know them.”
“Well, we will see,” he said, and then he had the missionaries stand. In making a selection of a missionary to prove the point, none of the bright-appearing, experienced, polished missionaries was selected, but rather my new missionary, who had a hard time gaining knowledge of such things, was singled out. My heart literally sank. I looked at the pleading expression on the elder’s face; I knew that he was paralyzed with fear. How I prayed—oh, how I prayed: “Heavenly Father, come to his rescue.” And He did. After a long pause, the visitor said, “Who authored the pamphlet The Plan of Salvation?”
After what seemed like an eternity, the trembling missionary responded, “John Morgan.”
“Who wrote Which Church Is Right?”
Again the pause, and then the reply, “Mark E. Petersen.”
“How about The Lord’s Tenth?”
“James E. Talmage wrote that one,” came the response.
And so it went through the list of missionary pamphlets we used. Finally came the question, “Is there another pamphlet?”
“Yes. It’s called After Baptism, What?”
“Who wrote it?”
Without hesitation the missionary answered, “The name of the author isn’t shown in the pamphlet, but my mission president told me it was written by Elder Mark E. Petersen by assignment from President David O. McKay.”
But what about the missionary? He completed an honorable mission and returned to his home in the West. Later he was called to serve as the bishop of his ward. Every year I receive a Christmas card from him and his wife and family. He always signs his name and then adds this comment, “From your best missionary.”

I know a man who decided that during moments of stress, when his natural tendency was to blame his wife for whatever was wrong, he would reaffirm in his own mind that he, and he alone, is responsible for his thoughts and actions—and that inner emotion, such as anger, is a result of his own thought processes and is not caused by his wife’s behavior. By maintaining such an objective outlook, he finds that solutions come more readily, not being hindered by the selfish reaction to blame the other person.

When I was 13, I entered a school known for its strict military discipline and infantry training. My schedule was demanding. I often was so exhausted by the end of the day that my scripture study and seminary participation seemed impossible.
By my second year at school, I had made plans for my life: upon finishing school at age 18, I would go directly into officer school and graduate four years later as an officer in the Guatemalan Army. All my wishes and dreams seemed to be coming true.
One day I told my mom about my plans, and she asked, “When are you planning to serve a full-time mission?” From that day forward her question lingered in my mind every time I thought about my future.
I still had a rigorous schedule, but I started to show more interest in my spiritual training. I started attending seminary, working with the full-time missionaries, and participating in Church activities. Following the advice of my older brother who was serving a full-time mission, I also began reading the Book of Mormon.

The Happy Prince If the prince is happy, why is he crying? A little bird helps him, and both are rewarded by God in this classic folktale.Oscar Wilde6–9 years

Second grade is a lot more work than first grade! I have homework almost every day. That homework includes studying spelling words. We have two chances a week to get 100%. If we get 100% the first time, we get spare time during the next test. I really wanted spare time!
One week my teacher gave me 100%, but when I showed it to Mom and Dad, we found that one word was spelled wrong. I knew how to spell it, so I thought about just leaving things the way they were and enjoying spare time the next day. Then I thought, “What would Jesus do?” And I knew that I had to tell my teacher.
I did and took the test over. I not only got 100%, but my teacher was happy about my honesty and wrote this on my test paper: “Thanks for telling the truth and finding my mistake!” The good feeling in my heart meant much more than having spare time. I hope we can all tell the truth, even if it is hard.