Gospel Story Finder

Recently three generations of a family were grieving at the death of a five-year-old boy. He died accidentally while with his family on a vacation. I was granted the opportunity to watch once again how the Lord blesses the faithful with relief and the strength to endure.
I watched the way the Lord made their great burden lighter. I was with them as the Lord’s covenant servant—as you will be often in your life—“to mourn with those that mourn … and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.”5
Because I knew that was true, I was pleased and at peace when the grandparents invited me to meet with them and the parents of the little boy before the funeral.
I prayed to know how I could help the Lord comfort them. They sat down with me in our living room. I had warmed the room on a cold night with a small fire in the fireplace.
I had felt to tell them that I loved them. I told them that I had felt the Lord’s love for them. In just a few words I tried to tell them that I mourned for them but that only the Lord knew and could experience perfectly their pain and grief.
After saying those few words, I felt impressed to listen with love while they talked about their feelings.
In the hour we sat together, they spoke far more than I did. I could feel in their voices and see in their eyes that the Holy Ghost was touching them. In words of simple testimony, they spoke of what happened and how they felt. The Holy Ghost had already given them the peace that comes with the hope of eternal life, when their son, who died without sin, could be theirs forever.
When I gave them each a priesthood blessing, I gave thanks for the influence of the Holy Ghost that was there. The Comforter had come, bringing hope, courage, and increased strength for all of us.
The father and the mother of the little boy bore witness of the Savior that evening in my living room. The Holy Ghost came, and all were comforted. The parents were strengthened. The burden of grief did not disappear, but they were made able to bear the sorrow. Their faith increased. And their strength will continue to grow as they ask for it and live for it.

On my 25th birthday, I was tidying my bedroom. My space wasn’t in order, and I kept thinking about how my life wasn’t in order either. I wasn’t where I thought I would be at age 25. I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.
I thought about how I felt as a teenager when I got my patriarchal blessing. Whenever I read about my future, I pictured someone who was almost perfect. But I realized I had not grown up to be that person I imagined. And I wondered, If my younger self could see me now, would she be disappointed?
Suddenly I found myself in tears. I felt like I had messed up my life plan. I hadn’t made any catastrophic mistakes, but I also felt like I had nothing to show for my life. I didn’t have a purpose. Everyone else had it all figured out, and there I was, crying on my bedroom floor, feeling like my whole life was a waste.
I felt alone in my confusion and despair. But even at the time, I knew I couldn’t be the only young adult struggling to find their way. As I’ve talked with others, I’ve found that very few people’s lives end up exactly as they planned. And that helps me feel less alone.
I’ve spent a lot of time since that birthday thinking about my purpose. I still haven’t quite figured everything out. But I don’t feel so worried anymore. I know that God knows me and that if I turn to Him, He will help me create meaning in the space I’m in now.

I am so thankful for the New Era. It has really helped to let me know that I am not the only one with problems or questions. I really appreciated the article “In His Father’s Steps” in the September 1994 issue. I have played soccer for 7 of the 14 years of my life. My team sometimes plays on Sunday in tournaments. I often thought about keeping the Sabbath day holy and whether playing soccer on Sunday was breaking the commandment. This article helped me to make my important decision to not play soccer on Sunday. Others on my team have made the same decision since then.
Lisa SukerSandy, Utah

Profile number three also relates to a missionary of unfaltering faith, Elder Mark Skidmore. When he received his call to Norway, he knew not one word of Norwegian—yet he realized that to teach and to testify he would need proficiency in the language of the Norwegian people. To himself he made a private vow: “I will not speak English until I have brought into the waters of baptism my first Norwegian family.” He plodded. He prayed. He pleaded. He worked. After the trial of his faith came the desired blessing. He taught and baptized a choice family. He then spoke English for the first time in six months. I met with him that same week. His expression was one of thanksgiving and gratitude. I thought of the words of Moroni, that courageous captain: “I seek not for power. … I seek not for honor of the world, but for the glory of my God” (Alma 60:36).

In Tetonia, Idaho, my grandpa, John Andersen, was asked to put a huge pipeline in the Teton Valley. Grandpa took my dad, Michael John Andersen, who was eight years old then and had just been baptized, with him. At the top of the canyon, there was a truck hooked to a cable. The cable held the pipeline that went down the canyon and over the river to a pump. My grandpa told my dad to stay by a truck and sit on two blocks of wood at the bottom of the canyon while he welded the pipeline over the river.
While my dad was sitting there, the cable suddenly snapped. The pipeline came crashing down the canyon. In the meantime, my dad heard a voice in his mind yell, “Mike, run!” so he ran to the side of the truck. The voice said, “Not beside the truck—behind the truck!” Dad quickly obeyed. The pipeline hit the side of the truck, then turned and hit the blocks of wood he had been sitting on. My dad was unharmed. I know that the Holy Ghost told my dad to move, and I am very glad he obeyed, because if he had not, he wouldn’t be my wonderful daddy today.
Kayla Lyn Andersen, age 12Kaysville, Utah

Ídolos was a television show I really enjoyed watching. I have always liked performing and hoped to someday enter a music competition. This year I didn’t hesitate; I simply signed myself up for the show and went to the audition with my dad. I guess you could say I’ve been preparing for Ídolos my entire life. Every experience I had with Ídolos was amazing, without exception. I tried to take advantage of every opportunity that came my way.

Once during a dinner with the other contestants, we talked a little bit about religion, and I spoke about my faith and the standards of the Church. Later I gave each of the finalists a copy of the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet so they could better understand what I believe. Some said the Church’s standards seemed really conservative, but others praised me for having such high standards in these days.

I continued to say my prayers, read my scriptures, participate in seminary, and take the sacrament every Sunday. I am currently preparing to serve a mission, which is something I’ve wanted to do since I was little. I serve in my ward as ward pianist, ward missionary, and assistant to the bishop in the priests quorum. I had to dedicate almost all my time to the competition, but I made sure to first dedicate time to the Lord.

I really like baseball. My friend wanted to have a pitching coach come teach us, but they wanted to do it on a Sunday. My dad told me about it but said that I could choose not to go. We told my friend that we keep Sunday sacred. They scheduled it for another day, and it all worked out OK. When I read the story by Elder Larry Y. Wilson about not playing sports on Sundays (May 2013), I felt good about my decision!

In anticipation of the hurricanes, the Church had moved food, bottled water, generators, chain saws, and other equipment to safe sites near the coast. As soon as the storms passed, supplies and equipment were quickly moved to locations like the storehouse for use and distribution. Stakes and wards in surrounding areas organized thousands of LDS volunteers into work groups that came each weekend from September to November to put tarps on roofs, cut up trees lying across roads, and pull up water-soaked carpets.

Ben Bradley, 13, was on one of these crews. He and his father, sister, and brother drove seven hours each way from Albany, Georgia, to Gulfport, Mississippi, making the trip several times. “We wanted to help,” Ben says. “I learned that all it takes is a willingness to pitch in, and Mormons are good at that.” Often crews would complete a work order at a member’s house and then perform similar tasks in other houses or yards in the neighborhood. The Church was widely recognized for its ability to help its own members and its willingness to help others, too.

President George Albert Smith, the eighth president of the Church, was named after his grandfather. Once, when he was very ill, President Smith had a dream in which his deceased grandfather spoke to him. “I would like to know what you have done with my name,” his grandfather said.
President Smith said, at that moment, everything he had ever done in his life up until that time passed before his eyes. He looked at his grandfather, smiled, and replied, “I have never done anything with your name of which you need be ashamed.”
As the vision closed, President Smith found himself in bed with tears of gratitude soaking his pillow. “I have thought of this many times,” he said, “and I want to tell you that I have been trying, more than ever since that time, to take care of that name. … Honor the names that you bear, because some day you will have the privilege and the obligation of reporting to them (as well as to your Father in Heaven) what you have done with their name.” (See George Albert Smith, Sharing the Gospel with Others, 112.)

The compassion and sensitivity developed in President Monson’s boyhood continued to be a major part of his life when he was called to be a bishop at age 22. Bishop Monson’s 67th Ward had more than 1,000 members, including 85 widows.
Every Christmas the young bishop took a week of his personal vacation time to visit and bring a gift to each of the widows in his ward. He continued to visit these sisters at Christmas for the next 47 years until the last widow passed away in 1998.

My tourist visa ended and I had to return to Taiwan. During the following months alone, I missed what I had felt. For a time, I was filled with despair and darkness. Those feelings were so overwhelming that I wanted to give up. I didn’t really know how to pray, but I called out to God and told Him everything I was feeling and thinking. A feeling of peace came—the same feeling I had experienced when I had attended our home church. I know it was the Holy Ghost. He calmed me down.

When Julia Wigley arrived in Ireland with her parents nine years ago, she soon found a friend who has stayed by her ever since. This loyal pal was a pony and helped spark her interest in riding, training, and grooming horses, a hobby that has become an enjoyable job as well.
A Laurel from the Cork Branch of the Ireland Dublin Mission, Julia is now assistant trainer and horse breaker at a stable in Macroom, Republic of Ireland. Her responsibilities include exercising some of the horses and showing them in competition. This has resulted in some interesting experiences. For example, when she first began, Julia could mount Sebastian, a good-sized jumper, only when he was saddle deep in the river and she transferred from another horse. She was later the one who showed Sebastian when he took the championship cup at the Ballingeary Agricultural and Horticultural Show in Ireland.
In addition to her equestrian pursuits, Julia is captain of her school’s volleyball team, studies mechanical drawing and building construction at school, is the chorister in her branch, and takes care of the children during the Sunday morning Relief Society.

“Daddy,” Richie whispered into the darkness. “Daddy, are you awake?” The bedroom was silent. “Daddy!” he whispered fiercely.
Dad awakened with a jump. The small figure in the darkness startled him. “Oh, Richie,” he said. “What’s the matter?”
“Daddy, I had a scary dream,” Richie said, his bottom lip trembling.
Dad got out of bed quietly so that he wouldn’t wake Mom. He took Richie’s hand and led him down the hall. After flipping the light on in Richie’s room, he sat down and lifted Richie onto his lap.
“Now, tell me about your dream. What scared you?” Richie told the dream to his dad. He felt safe and warm in his father’s arms.
“I can see why you were scared, Son. But it was just a dream. You’re safe, and Mom and I are just down the hall. Let’s say a little prayer so that you’ll feel better.”
Richie knelt next to his father and buried his eyes in his arms. He quietly asked Heavenly Father to keep him safe and to help him feel better.
When Richie finished his prayer, Dad got up and gave him another hug. Richie smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”
Dad tucked him into bed. “I love you, Richie. Good night.”
Richie snuggled into his covers and fell asleep.

“Growing up in Queens, New York, I sometimes felt lost in the crowds of people living in the inner city. At times I felt quite isolated and lonely, even though I was surrounded by so many people.
“When I was introduced to the gospel of Jesus Christ, I started to experience the Light of Christ coming into my life. As I accepted invitations to read the scriptures, to pray, and to ponder, the light inside of me started to grow. I felt very known to God, where I previously felt unknown to everyone else.
“As a teenager, I leaned into that light early, and I stay leaned in to this day. President Russell M. Nelson teaches that it’s ‘vital’ to experience the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ—especially in our present day and age. I’m grateful for that critical experience in my youth and that Their love and light continue to propel me forward today.
“God’s love and light keep my divine identity as a beloved daughter of God in the forefront and is how I choose to present myself and navigate my way in my daily life. It has also allowed me to see the divinity of all of God’s children—my brothers and sisters. God’s love can pierce the very center of the hearts of His children. When we feel it—when we experience it for ourselves—we come to know why ‘it is the most desirable above all things … and the most joyous to the soul’ (1 Nephi 11:22–23).”

Like many of you, I have shared the gospel with some who are soon baptized or activated, and others—such as my nonmember friend Tim and his less-active wife, Charlene—take much more time.

For over 25 years I engaged Tim in gospel conversations and took Tim and Charlene to temple open houses. Others joined the rescue; however, Tim declined each invitation made to meet with the missionaries.

One weekend I was assigned to preside at a stake conference. I had asked the stake president to fast and pray about whom we should visit. I was shocked when he handed me the name of my friend Tim. When Tim’s bishop, the stake president, and I knocked on the door, Tim opened it, looked at me, looked at the bishop, and then said, “Bishop, I thought you told me you were going to bring somebody special!”

Then Tim laughed and said, “Come on in, Merv.” A miracle occurred that day. Tim has now been baptized, and he and Charlene have been sealed in the temple. We must never give up.

April 29, 1957
Today I knelt across from James in the Lord’s holy temple. I have prayed for this moment for many years. I am thankful to know that we can be eternal companions. Words cannot express even the smallest portion of the joy and love I felt from Heavenly Father.
When they brought in our daughters all dressed in white, tears fell freely from my eyes. Kneeling together and being sealed as a family was the most important moment of my life. I am grateful for the knowledge that if I live the teachings of the gospel, I can have these precious daughters throughout eternity.

About halfway through my last year of high school, the school counselor was calculating my credit hours. After pulling up my class schedule, she turned to me and said, “If you want to graduate from high school, you cannot take seminary during the school day.”
I was shocked. I felt like I was standing at the end of a street looking at two roads, both of which I wanted to take: graduating from high school and taking seminary. I had been looking forward to graduating for a long time. Should I drop seminary so I could get the credit needed to graduate?
I left the counselor’s office feeling upset and frustrated. When I got home I went to my room and got down on my knees. I told my Heavenly Father that I wanted to take seminary very much, but I also wanted to graduate from high school. After praying, I felt calm. I didn’t know how things were going to work out, but I knew everything would be okay.
The next day I was back in the counselor’s room looking at possible class choices. One class caught my eye—Peer Tutoring. I had talked to people who had taken this class and liked it, so I decided to enroll.
On my first day in Peer Tutoring, the teacher went over basic classroom procedures. We would be helping special-needs students do schoolwork. The teacher said some of us would be going with these students to their classes so we could help them. She began to assign us to different students that we would work with. Then she asked, “Are any of you willing to take Tony to seminary?”
“For what church?” asked one of the students.
“For the LDS Church,” she answered.
I was the only Latter-day Saint student in the room, so I was assigned to Tony. At that moment I realized that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer. For the next three months, I went to seminary with Tony and got to partake of the Spirit. I was also able to graduate from both seminary and high school.
I know my experience was not just pure luck. My Heavenly Father heard my prayer and answered it. This experience has taught me that prayer works and is a powerful tool in our lives.

One of the first buildings that the Saints built in Independence was a schoolhouse for their children. Education is still very important. Even when she isn’t in school, Julianne loves getting old textbooks from a neighbor across the street and playing school with her sister Jaime (10). Although Julianne loves school and does very well in most subjects, sometimes spelling words can be a trial to her. If she gets frustrated, her sister Jennie (16) helps her learn the words.

In Ethiopia, communities helped to access clean drinking water. The Church drilled wells and constructed storage tanks. Communities organized a water committee and dug the trenches needed to pipe the water from the storage tanks to each village. In some cases this was a distance of over three miles (5 km).

Some communities struggled to meet their commitments for trenching. The soil was hard, dry, and full of clay, making digging very difficult. In one community a school of 1,500 students suspended normal school activities for a period of time, and everyone participated in digging the remaining sections of the trench. As they worked, other members of the community joined in. At one point there was over a mile-long line of people digging.

How those words touched me! It had been 15 years ago that the Book of Mormon became an integral part of David’s life. I had read it to him as he lay in bed, at life’s edge.
“What are you reading, Mommy?” David asked in the faintest whisper of a sound. His delicate face closely matched the color of the snowy pillowcase. Deep red drops of blood, descending from a bottle suspended above, provided a vivid contrast as they dropped through a tube into his motionless white arm.
“The Book of Mormon,” I replied. It helped me through the endless hours of watching my son fight a seemingly insurmountable battle. It was supposed to be minor surgery to correct a small health problem, but the whole procedure had become a nightmare. Face to face with the fragile quality of mortality, I groped for an anchor with eternity.
“Read it to me,” David said.
“But you wouldn’t understand it, David,” I told him. “You’re too young. Later, when you’re well and at home, I’ll read you some stories from the Book of Mormon.”
Again the whispered words, urgent this time. “Please read it to me, Mommy.”
Not knowing what else to do, and not wishing to further upset him, I began in First Nephi: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, …” I intended to read a few lines while he drifted off to sleep, and then continue my silent reading. Every time I thought he was asleep, my voice quieted and quit. Then, from the hospital bed, again and again, I heard, “Read it to me.”
And so I read it to him. I read all during the hospital stay, and then at home, where he lay attached to two tubes that drained fluids from his body into bags, one on each leg. Doctors had discovered a congenital defect that gave him only part of one kidney.
I did not read stories from the Book of Mormon. I read from the book itself. One morning, after David’s two sisters had gone to school and his two little brothers were sleeping, we sat together reading as usual. I stopped and looked down at him. “David, do you understand this?”
His blue eyes looked thoughtfully into mine. “Not all. But some of it.”
When I continued reading he stopped me and said, “Mother, kneel down.” Startled by the request, I simply knelt, feeling his small body at my side. Then, totally trusting, he said, “Now pray for me. Pray that I will understand the Book of Mormon.”
By the time we finished the book, David had turned five and was able to recognize and read many of the words on his own. Eventually he read alone. His health improved and, by the time he was baptized, he had read the whole thing by himself more than once. By the time he was ordained a deacon, he was eagerly preparing for a mission.