Gospel Story Finder

Tita was born 1 April 1958 to Milton Henriques da Paixao and Walstir Queiroz da Paixao. His father was Catholic and, before her marriage, his mother was active in the Methodist church. It was through one of his mother’s brothers, Walter Guedes de Quieroz (former Brazil Porto Alegre Mission president) that the family was introduced to the Church. Eleven-year-old Tita was baptized in 1969 together with his mother and two brothers.

His interest in sports found its outlet in soccer and he participated in Church and school tournaments. His activity with a soccer little league brought him to the attention of the “Flamengo” club and he signed with the Rio de Janeiro-based team. He was drafted to play for the national team in 1979.

A favorite of the fans, Tita’s ability on and off the field has earned him favorable press coverage. But Tita has used his fame not to promote himself but his religion. For example, he used the publicity surrounding his recent marriage in the Sao Paulo Temple to explain that he and his wife-to-be had to live specific standards to be worthy to be married in the temple and enter into an eternal covenant. Among the standards, he told the press, were the principles of the Word of Wisdom.

Tita, a member of the Tijunca Ward, Rio de Janeiro Andarai Stake, said that he and his wife want to be worthy of the eternal covenants they have made. His other goals include living the commandments and being a good example to those with whom he comes in contact, taking advantage of missionary opportunities, and harmonizing his professional life with the standards of the Church.

Have you ever been excited for a special day? Maybe it was your birthday or a vacation. Seven-year-old Adair was excited for a special day. Her family set a date to go to the temple one year from the time of their baptism.
Adair’s family held a special family home evening. Her dad and mom explained how important it was for everyone to prepare to go to the temple. They made a list of the things they could do: pray individually and as a family, read the scriptures, pay tithing, keep the commandments, and follow the prophet.
Adair’s mother gave her a picture of the temple and wrote Adair’s name and the date that her family would be going to the temple underneath. Every day Adair tried her best to prepare for when her family would be sealed in the temple. Adair felt good inside as she realized that each day she prepared to receive the blessings of the temple was a special day. She felt a surge of excitement as the special day came. Being sealed as a family was a blessing Heavenly Father gave them that brought them closer to Him and to each other.

1 This true story happened to me when I was twelve years old. I lived in a little cottage with my parents; I had no brothers or sisters. Three things were dominant in our English village: the church, the school, and the mayor.
2 We didn’t have television or movie theaters. The highlight of our year was the Garden Fete and Horticultural Show, which had booths and games during the day and a barbecue and a barn dance at the mayor’s in the evening. We liked the mayor very much.
3 Every Sunday we went to church. It was a very small one, but it had a large arch stretching from one side of the church to the other. On the arch were these words from Matthew 18:20: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”
4 P. C. Claris was the only policeman in the village, and as a special privilege, we children were allowed to call him “Clarry.” He would play with us and tell us stories. He knew everyone of us by name and always had treats in his tunic for us.
5 The year that I was twelve, I went to the big senior school. I was very small for my age—probably about as big as you at eight or nine—and on my first visit, a prefect (student monitor) lifted me up so that I could see through the tiny window of the big classroom door.
6 A few weeks before Christmas, snow fell so hard that after lunch our teacher announced that we were to leave for home right away. Great! I thought. A whole half-day off! What I didn’t know was that the snow would prevent me from leaving my home for several weeks!
7 Two friends and I cycled to and from school each day along a deserted footpath with a field on one side and a tall hedge on the other. That day the snow was forming drifts against the hedge. My bicycle had a heavy frame, and it became harder and harder to lift it over the drifts. Our skirts quickly became wet and clung to our legs.
8 All our parents worked and would not be home before six, so no one would be waiting for us. The journey normally took less than thirty minutes, and we had already been out nearly three hours! As a sense of hopelessness overwhelmed us, we remembered the scripture on the church archway. Well, there were three of us, so we prayed—oh, how we prayed! Then we picked up our bicycles and trudged on.
9 About ten minutes later we heard a familiar whistle—and turning the corner came Clarry! “Hello,” he said. “Something told me that I would find you here.” He leaned our bicycles against a pole, saying that he’d come back for them later. He stooped down, and I climbed onto his back. Then he picked up a child in each arm and carried all three of us toward the village.
10 Mine was the first house. While we changed our clothes, Clarry made us a hot drink and shoveled a path from the back door to the toilet—our toilet was not indoors, as I expect yours is, but was in a small building in the yard. Then he wrapped my schoolmates in blankets and took them home.
11 There are two morals to this story. First, it saddens me to hear young people today calling policeman rude names and laughing at them. I don’t expect that you do this, but you may have friends who do it. Most schools nowadays have visits from policemen; they enjoy working with children. I hope that you have as much fun with your policemen as we had with Clarry.
12 The other moral to my story is that earnest prayers are answered. Remember Clarry’s first words to us that day: “Something told me that I would find you here.” We knew Who had told Clarry where to find us.

Power. That’s what the seminary council at East High School in Salt Lake City wanted. Not the power that builds fortunes or lights buildings, but the power that builds testimonies and lights the fire of the Spirit.
The council members decided to draw on all their powers of creativity to create an opening assembly for the school year that would get everyone excited about following the Savior. They knew that music is an especially powerful tool (particularly hymns, like the ones you’ve read on these pages), and that when paired with visual images, it is even more effective. The scriptures have power, too. So they decided to find a scriptural theme for the whole seminary to live by for the year.
But they knew that to make a good decision, they would have to rely on another power—the power of prayer.
“When we got together to make the final selection for our scripture theme for the year, we knelt down and prayed,” says Meggan Felt. “After we voted, it seemed that everyone knew the right scripture.”
That scripture was 2 Timothy 1:7–8: “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Be not thou therefore ashamed of the testimony of our Lord.” [2 Tim. 1:7–8] A scripture that talks, not only about power, but also about love. It was a perfect fit.
“This scripture is a reminder to me that the Savior is always there,” says council member Enos Beebe.
And, after seeing the assembly that the council had spent hours putting together, which featured a slideshow of artwork of the Savior paired with music about his life, other students echoed Enos’s thoughts about the scripture. And that made all the work worth it.
Even if it did take a “powerful” long time.

Isabelle squinted up at the deep blue sky. There were no clouds in sight. She licked her dry lips.
Her parents were talking quietly with President Santiago, the stake president. The motor of the boat was so loud that she couldn’t hear them. But she knew what they were talking about. There was no more drinking water.
Isabelle tried to focus on the reason for their journey. They were going to the temple to be sealed as a family! She remembered hearing her parents talk about the beautiful temple in São Paulo ever since she was a little girl. Going there almost seemed like a fairy tale. After all, Isabelle’s family lived in Manaus, deep in the Amazon rainforest, and the temple was more than 2,000 miles (3,219 km) away.
Then President Santiago had planned a six-day trip to get there. More than 100 members had decided to go. “It will be a sacrifice,” Mamãe had told her. “But sacrifice brings blessings.”
At first, the trip was exciting. They slept in hammocks on the deck of the boat, sang hymns, and read scriptures.
But then the drinking water had run out, and the river water was too dirty to drink.
Isabelle felt Mamãe touch her arm. “President Santiago is gathering us all together,” she said. “We’re going to pray for rain.”
Isabelle joined the group, and the prayer began. After the prayer ended, she felt cool air tickle her neck. She raced to the side of the boat and gasped. Gray storm clouds were moving toward them. Soon rain began to pour down! She opened her mouth to catch the raindrops on her tongue.
“Quick!” cried Mamãe. “Grab buckets, pans—anything!”
Isabelle grabbed a pan and held it out. She wanted to catch all the water she could. Everyone worked together, laughing and celebrating. Soon they were having a giant soaking party! The storm lasted for 15 minutes. It was long enough for them to get all the water they needed. It was a miracle.
Soon the boat reached land. But they still had 1,500 miles (2,414 km) to go. Everyone got on a bus for the rest of the trip. For days, the bus jolted over the rough roads. One time it bounced so hard that the windshield broke! Sometimes they rode through hot, crowded cities. But at least the roads there weren’t so bumpy!
Everyone was always grateful when they stopped at a village or town to eat. They ate at chapels or with Church members along the way. The first night, they arrived so late that Isabelle was afraid that no one would be waiting. “Don’t worry,” Mamãe said with a tired smile. “Look!”
The branch president and Church members were lined up across the road. They held a banner that read “Sacrifice brings blessings.” Isabelle smiled. Mamãe was right!
After three bumpy days, they finally reached São Paulo. Isabelle stood on her seat to get a better view as the bus drove around a curve. Suddenly everyone on the bus burst into cheers. “O templo! O templo!” They could see the tall, thin temple spire rising above rows of palm trees.
Everyone was exhausted, but no one wanted to rest. They wanted to be sealed right away. When it was time for her family to be sealed, Isabelle carefully dressed in white. As she walked into the sealing room, she saw her father beaming. Tears of joy streamed down Mamãe’s face. Their journey had been long and even dangerous. “But the sacrifice was worth it,” Isabelle thought. She smiled as she took her place to be sealed to her family forever.

When my husband and I first got married, I was worried that family home evening with just the two of us would be awkward or would become repetitive. I thought we would run out of things to teach each other. But my husband surprised me on our first Monday night by saying, “I want to bear my testimony.” He proceeded to share his testimony of the Savior and of marriage. After his testimony, I shared mine. It was an evening I will always treasure. Though he had not known of my concern about family home evening, he answered it, and I found that each family home evening was a spiritual experience to look forward to.
Since then testimony sharing has remained a tradition in our family home evenings. Though we now have a toddler and we tailor lessons to her, we also don’t go without bearing our testimonies. I am excited for the day when I will be able to hear my children’s testimonies and when I can teach them why testimonies matter.
Heidi Icleanu, Kentucky, USA

Last Saturday was Mommy’s day off. Daddy and I got up early and made her breakfast. We brought it to her in bed. Boy, was she surprised!
Daddy made her hot cereal with peaches because that’s her favorite.
I poured her some orange juice and put a muffin on a small plate.
Daddy put everything on a tray. Then we added a flower in a vase, and a card we’d made that said: Happy Day Off!
Mommy was so happy! She said that it was the best breakfast she’d ever had.
After she ate breakfast and got dressed, Daddy and I told her the rules: 1. No housecleaning. 2. No cooking. 3. No laundry. 4. No worrying about anything. Mommy said she liked those rules.
She sat on the couch, reading a book, while Daddy and I cleaned the house. Daddy put the dishes in the dishwasher, and I vacuumed the carpet. Then I dusted the furniture, and Daddy swept the kitchen floor. It was hard work, but it was fun, too! I like doing things for Mommy. She always does things for Daddy and me.
Mommy took a nice, long bubble bath while Daddy and I made lunch. She said that it had been so long since she had taken a bubble bath that she had almost forgotten what it felt like. I told her that she could use my bubble bath anytime she wants to.
After lunch, Mommy went shopping for a new dress. While she was gone, we did the laundry. Mommy said it was the best laundry job she’d ever seen.
After that, Mommy listened to music and took a nap. Then we took her out to dinner. She wore her new dress, and she looked beautiful!
Mommy gave us both a hug and a kiss. She said it was the nicest day off ever! She said thank you and told us how much she loves us. I am glad we gave Mommy a day off. It was fun, and it made her happy. We love her very much. She’s the best Mommy in the world!

Old as well as young have benefited from Chea’s desire to share his newfound knowledge. His neighbor, Sophon Heng, a mother of four, and her elderly mother Hong Heng were baptized as a result of Chea’s efforts. Sophon recalls, “Chea was so kind to us. He asked us if we would like to meet two men who would teach us and make us happy. When we said yes, Chea and the elders came to our home each week and taught us the gospel.”

I think of such a man I once knew, not a member of the Church. He was a graduate of a great university. His potential was unlimited. As a young man with an excellent education and a tremendous opportunity, he dreamed of the stars and moved in that direction. In the company which employed him in those early years, he was promoted from one responsibility to another, each with improved opportunity over the last. Before many years had passed, he was in the top echelon of his company. But those promotions brought him into the cocktail circuit. He could not handle it, as so many others cannot. He became an alcoholic, the victim of an appetite he could not control. He sought help but was too proud to discipline himself in the regimen imposed upon him by those who tried to assist him.

He went down like a falling star, tragically burning out and disappearing in the night. I made inquiry of one friend after another and finally learned the truth of his tragic end. He, who had begun with such high aim and impressive talent, had died on skid row in one of our large cities. He had felt certain of his strength and of his capacity to live up to his potential. But he had denied that capacity; and I am confident that as the shadows of his failure closed around him, he must have gone out and wept bitterly.

My family had family prayer and family home evening, and during those times, I learned the importance of communicating with Father in Heaven.
I remember one time when one of our puppies was run over by a car. Heartbroken, I carried the puppy into my mother. “He’s not going to live!” I cried. With her infinite wisdom, she helped me place the tiny body in a box and suggested we say a prayer. We knelt and prayed, then headed to the vet.
When the vet came into the room, he took one look at the puppy and asked why we had come. “There’s nothing wrong with this animal,” he said. But I knew that there had been—I had seen the car run over him. That was a great testimony to me about the power of prayer. I knew then and know today that Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers.

The pathway program (now called PathwayConnect) is an inspired program brought by Church leaders to help members be blessed by the Lord in so many ways for their future. When PathwayConnect was introduced for the first time in Bangalore, I was interested to join and learn.
I work in a nationalized bank in India, and a Brigham Young University certificate is not acceptable. My Church leaders encouraged me to join, so I obeyed the leaders‘ word. I was accepted by pathway and joined others for the first ever semester to begin in India.
I can see the Lord’s hand guiding me in the pathway program. As I review my own personal change and spiritual growth that occurred during my pathway study program, I recognize that It was impossible for me to do it alone. With heaven’s aid, I was able to complete it.
During this wonderful program, my wife gave birth to a beautiful girl baby. It was a very challenging situation to balance work, travel, my Church calling, and fulfilling family responsibilities. With all these things, studying pathway was an added pressure, but I strongly felt the Lord’s hand in it. My secular education, spiritual help, and revelations were received from Him from time to time. —Ebenezer Paul Magendran, Bengaluru India

The girls decided to use this experience as a Personal Progress project. Each girl sewed her own bonnet as part of the authentic pioneer costume for the festival. They practiced for hours to memorize the story they had chosen—the story of Fanny Fry, who traveled with the George Rowley handcart company in 1859.
Fanny was separated from her family and endured hardships while crossing the plains. One day she fainted and was run over by her handcart. Thinking she was dead, the sisters began preparing her for burial. The Iowa Beehives love to tell how surprised those good sisters were when Fanny opened her eyes. Despite her injuries, Fanny pressed on and was later reunited with her sister.

As our family was driving from Arizona, we stopped at a service station, and while the car was being serviced, one of the children said, “Could we have some soda pop?”
So I went to the vending machine. I put in one dime and I got out one bottle. I put in another dime and I got out another bottle. I put in a third dime and I got a third bottle. But then the gadget didn’t lock, and I got the fourth bottle free. As I was going to the car to make the delivery, I thought, “They charge too much for this stuff anyway.”
However, I have a little mental night-watchman on duty up here in my brain someplace who started to make a fuss, and he said, “Look, Sterling, if you’re going to be a crook, you had better get more than 10 cents out of it.”
I don’t know just what I would have done if the soda had cost a quarter, but I went back and put the other dime into the machine.

I am the deacons quorum president in my ward. I stayed after church with two friends to tidy up, emptying trash and putting up chairs. After we were done, we started to walk home.
It was a hot, sunny day. As we were walking home, a woman called to us from her doorway. She asked if we were missionaries. We said we were not. She said, “But you are Mormons, aren’t you?” We told her that we were and asked what we could do for her. She told us that her husband was very ill and they were heading to California the next day for surgery on some blood clots in his lungs. She asked us to come in and wondered if we could give a prayer. One of the other deacons said that if she meant a priesthood blessing, then we were not able to do that. The lady asked if we could at least give a prayer. I said that would be fine and that we would. I felt nervous about saying a prayer in a stranger’s home, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. I then offered a prayer. I prayed for this man’s safety and comfort and that he would feel better after his operation. The family thanked us, and we went home.
I really felt like the Holy Ghost was with us and helped us know what to do. Even though we don’t yet have the Melchizedek Priesthood and cannot give priesthood blessings, we were still able to help this family. When I got home I told my parents what had happened. We decided that the family probably did want and need a priesthood blessing.
I called the bishop and told him the story. He thanked me for what we had done. The bishop called the high priests group leader and sent him to check on the family. The sick man was given a priesthood blessing, and the family was very grateful.
One of the high priests called me later and asked if I could please organize the deacons to mow the family’s lawn. Since they were leaving town for the operation, they needed our help with their lawn. I would check on the lawn to see if it needed to be mowed and get the deacons together when it did.
This was one of the neatest and most spiritual experiences I have ever had. Our bishop said he thinks the Lord placed us in the right place at the right time for someone to show her faith and for the young men to respond as the Lord has designed (see D&C 84:111). He said this is an awesome example of the Aaronic Priesthood in action.
I will remember this experience for a long time. It helps me remember that I need to be an example of Christ at all times and in all places (see Mosiah 18:9). I could be called upon at any time to help or serve others, whether they are members of the Church or not. I don’t know if this family will ask more about the Church. I do know that they will remember that when they asked us to help them, we were able to give comfort and hope. It feels good to help others in any way I can!

From a missionary I received an unforgettable letter. He wrote: “I still am not certain why it was that I was [afflicted] with [cancer], particularly during the time I was serving the Lord on a mission, but I can say with all honesty and sincerity that I am eternally grateful to our gracious Heavenly Father for allowing me to have that experience. … Not a day goes by,” he continued, “that I don’t think about the days I spent lying in the hospital suffering through chemotherapy or grimacing with the pain from another operation. … Not a day … passes when I don’t think of the days I spent studying the scriptures, particularly the Book of Mormon, and remembering the overwhelming feelings of comfort and peace which I felt. I often think of the nights when I would retire to bed and pour out my soul to my Heavenly Father and thank Him for preserving my life.” Then the elder shared this wonderful news: “I returned to the doctor this week … and … he found no evidence of any disease in my body.” I love such faithful missionaries!

One night shortly after his baptism, Don was tending the ship’s engines and reading the Book of Mormon in his spare time. One of the crew came up behind him and asked what he was reading.

“It’s the Book of Mormon,” Don replied.
“Are you Mormon?”
“Yes, I am.”
Burt ground out his cigarette and said, “So am I.” He had been brought up in the Church but had stopped participating when he joined the military. Don convinced him to join the others at sacrament meeting the next Sunday. Burt began the process of repenting and getting his life back in order.

Just before Don was released from military duty, he wrote to my wife and me.
“As you know,” he said, “I am the only member of the Church in my family. I had been saving part of my paycheck so that when I get out I would be able to pay cash for a new car. But now I’ve decided to use the money for something better—to support myself on a mission.”
Ken also decided to serve a mission. After their missions, both Ken and Don were married in the temple, and both have served faithfully in many Church callings.
We asked Ken and Don what it was about the gospel and the Church that attracted them most. Without a moment’s hesitation they each said that it was Willis’s life, his example.

After months of preparation, the day finally arrived. While I sat in the baptistery awaiting my turn, excitement overcame me as I realized how long Maren, who died nearly 200 years ago, had anticipated this day. It was her day of baptism, and I had the inspiring opportunity of performing the ordinance in her behalf.
Maren Christensdatter became a special person to me because of a Young Women project. The first time I encountered her name was at our stake Family History Center. I was searching through computer files for family names to prepare for temple ordinance work. After having gone through a few family lines with no success, I decided to check the line of my great-grandmother who had recently passed away. To my surprise, I actually found one female name for whom no temple work had been done—my great-great-great-grandmother, Maren Christensdatter.
Over the next few weeks, my Mia Maid class returned to the Family History Center several times to complete our work. We then had to enter the names, along with other information, into a file and submit them so temple cards could be prepared.
Doing baptisms for the dead is always a spiritual experience. But when you do it for your own ancestor, whose name you have found and prepared yourself, it becomes incredibly personal and satisfying. As the young women from our ward entered the baptistery room at the temple that day, I could feel a special spirit there.
And when I was baptized by proxy for Maren, I felt a closeness to her, even though I had never met her. It was an awesome experience to give her this most priceless gift, the opportunity to become a member of the Church.

When I was a child, my mother introduced me to the nature of God with a story from her own childhood: “As a little girl, I walked home from school with my brother. We always took a shortcut past a large black dog that chased us as we ran by his house. If we ran at just the right time, we could make it to a fence and to safety. My brother would tell me when to run.

“One day I was alone and didn’t run at the right time. The dog threatened me, and I froze on the sidewalk in terror. As he lunged toward me, I cried out as loud as I could, ‘Heavenly Father, help me!’”

Suddenly, my mother recalled, the dog halted as if his way had been barred, and she crawled through the fence to safety. She knew her prayer had been answered.
That story told me much about the God my mother worshiped. It gave me a sense of security, a comfort I could not have put into words.

Please ask the Lord if we can be the special witnesses mentioned in the Book of Mormon.
The Lord has told me that if you will rely on the Lord, humble yourselves, and testify of the truth, you may see the plates.
Later that day.
Each man took a turn praying to be shown the plates.
Nothing happened.
I’m the reason the heavens are closed.
Soon the angel Moroni appeared.
Then they heard the voice of God.
These plates are from God. The translation is correct, and I command you to share what you now see and hear.
Later, Joseph finds Martin praying.
I haven’t received a witness from the Lord, but I still want to see the plates. Will you pray with me?
A few days later and with direction from God, Joseph invited eight others, including his father and two of his brothers, to see the plates. They did not see an angel, but they got to hold the plates in their hands.
All eleven witnesses attached their names to statements in the Book of Mormon, known as Testimony of Three Witnesses and Testimony of Eight Witnesses. Though some left the Church for a time, they all bore testimony throughout their lives that they had seen the gold plates. None of the witnesses ever denied what they saw.

I was a senior in high school and had joined the cross-country team mainly to get in shape for track and field events that took place later in the year. As part of our training, every morning before school our coach would have us run to his home, which was four miles from the school, and then run back again.
Several times after having made the eight-mile run my coach asked me if I’d “found my second wind yet?”
I’d always ask, out of breath, “What’s a second wind?”
To which he would reply, “You’ll know it when you find it.”
After several weeks of arduous training we finally had our first cross-country meet. It was well over eight miles long, with no stops and only an orange cone indicating the halfway mark. Knowing how difficult the last four miles had been for me every morning, I began to doubt myself even before the race began. But out of respect for my coach and with my competitive spirit, I positioned myself at the starting line.
The gun went off and we were on our way, trying to pace ourselves so we would have enough energy to finish. As usual, I could feel the burn and fatigue starting to build up with every stride I was taking. Well into the race I wobbled around a corner looking up a hill that seemed to be Mount Everest, only to see the halfway sign marked by the orange cone. I was exhausted. By this time I was feeling the temptation to quit. But relying on competitive drive still left in me, I made it to the top, with a weak, staggering run.
Suddenly something happened that I can’t explain fully. As I reached the crest of the hill, the words of my coach came to my mind, “Hey, Marler, have you found your second wind yet?”
At that moment, the question and the answer, “You’ll know it when you find it,” all came to light. As the burn, aches, and pains flooded through my body, as I was gasping for every breath, my whole body suddenly felt as if I had never started the race. I felt as if I was at the starting line, waiting for the gun to go off. I knew for the first time what a second wind was. I was able to finish the race and assist our team in winning the overall competition.
After the race I found my coach, and seeing the expression on my face, he said, “You found your second wind, didn’t you, Marler?” I will never forget the moment or the feeling I had. I know that anyone else who has experienced a second wind during a race can relate and will know what I have experienced.