Gospel Story Finder

Upon graduating from high school, I decided to move to Utah, USA, where my two older brothers had settled after returning from their missions. They had started their own construction companies and extended to me the opportunity to work for them while I tried to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.
Both of them tried to persuade me to serve a mission. I had always felt impressed to serve a mission but failed to prepare. Rather than make the necessary preparations to serve a mission, I chose to serve in a different capacity. At the age of 20, I enlisted as a medic in the US Army.
Despite my joining the army, the impression to serve a mission never left. As I entered the last year of my enlistment, I pondered what was next.
“Do I re-enlist? Do I finish my bachelor’s degree? Or do I go out and make the necessary changes in my life, repent, and prepare to serve a mission? Even if I do want to serve, am I too old?” These were some of the questions that crossed my mind.
As I considered whether to serve a mission, I felt strongly that there were people waiting for me to invite them to come unto Christ. This impression was the catalyst for my decision to prepare to serve a mission. I decided that even if I had only a slight chance of being able to serve a mission at my age, I had to try.
I think for most prospective missionaries, the flood of emotion and the power of the Holy Ghost hits them upon opening and reading their mission call. However, for me, that happened the day I was informed that I was still eligible to apply to serve a mission.
As I had repented and prepared myself to serve, I felt an immense gratitude toward my Savior, Jesus Christ, and my Heavenly Father. I felt like They wrapped Their arms around me and said: “We forgive you. We accept your repentance and the changes you have made and who you have become. You are worthy to serve.” I felt triumphant.
Eventually I received my call to serve in the Philippines Quezon City Mission.
Entering the missionary training center at the age of 25 was a unique experience. Most of the other missionaries were much younger. Many had recently graduated from high school or had completed their first year of college. Several were experiencing their first time away from home and family. As for me, I had just finished spending four years in the US Army and was already acclimated to many of the sacrifices and adjustments that the other missionaries were only about to encounter. My experience afforded me the opportunity to focus less on myself and more on extending empathy and encouragement to others. My age and experience also gave me insight into the value of time and provided motivation to serve with focus, intention, and diligence.
My mission will always be one of the most important experiences of—and for—my life. It solidified and sealed my foundation built on the rock of my Redeemer (see Helaman 5:12). I am immensely thankful that I had the opportunity to serve.

I went through a time when I began to wonder if the Church was really the only true church on the earth. My friends all seemed to believe that their churches were true, and they are good people with high standards.

I set a goal to gain a testimony. I knew it would take time. I prayed, studied the scriptures, and made sure I attended all my Church meetings and activities. I really listened and asked questions, and I thought about all my parents had taught me. After I truly understood the gospel, I began to learn more about my friends’ churches. As I talked with my friends, I realized how fulfilling the gospel is in my life. As I shared with them my beliefs, I realized that I did know that the Church is true. A feeling came over me that was so great.

Don’t ever give up. A desire to gain a testimony is a sign that you are building one already. “And they did pray for that which they most desired … that the Holy Ghost should be given unto them” (3 Ne. 19:9).
Kerianna Copeland, 14Franklin, Pennsylvania

Several years ago, my husband and I qualified to run the Boston Marathon. The night before the marathon, in an effort to visualize what it would be like to complete the race, we went to downtown Boston about a mile from the finish line. There in the quiet of the evening we laced up our running shoes and ran that last mile to the finish. As we crossed the line we held our hands victoriously high in the air and pretended that we had won the race! We imagined thousands of observers in the stands cheering for us. The next day we ran the race. Twenty-six point two miles (41.3 km) is a challenging distance. There are hills that are called “Heartbreak” for a very good reason. The entire time I was running those hills, I kept in mind that finish line and what it had felt like the night before to cross the line victorious. That vision of the finish line helped me to finish that marathon in a pelting, cold New England storm.

The fourteen-month-old son of a doctor became very ill. During the course of his treatment, many consultants were brought in, but their contributions resulted only in a symptomatic approach to the disease. The result was that the child’s condition steadily worsened. His temperature was 104 degrees and the family had entirely given up hope for his recovery; his death was expected momentarily. At this point, a number of miraculous things happened. On their own and without a previous appointment, the bishop and his counselors came to visit the family. At the request of the family, they administered to the child. Almost immediately following the blessing, an intern, who was a friend of the family, stepped into the room and said, “Why not give him a transfusion?” The intern was a universal blood donor, and blood was taken from him immediately and given to the child. The child’s temperature dropped from 104 degrees to normal and remained at normal throughout his hospital stay. This is a case where medical aid had essentially failed; and on the basis of what medicine could offer, the child’s life had been despaired. The priesthood came into the picture, and the administration was followed by additional medical steps that previously had not been projected. The child’s life was saved. Today, he has matured and has a lovely wife and family.

Not long ago a single sister, whom I will call Molly, came home from work only to find two inches (5 cm) of water covering her entire basement floor. Immediately she realized that her neighbors, with whom she shared drainage lines, must have done an inordinate amount of laundry and bathing because she got the backed-up water.
After Molly called a friend to come and help, the two began bailing and mopping. Just then the doorbell rang. Her friend cried out, “It’s your home teachers!”
Molly laughed. “It is the last day of the month,” she replied, “but I can assure you it is not my home teachers.”
With bare feet, wet trousers, hair up in a bandana, and a very fashionable pair of latex gloves, Molly made her way to the door. But her stark appearance did not compare with the stark sight standing before her eyes. It was her home teachers!
“You could have knocked me over with a plumber’s friend!” she later told me. “This was a home teaching miracle—the kind the Brethren share in general conference talks!” She went on: “But just as I was trying to decide whether to give them a kiss or hand them a mop, they said, ‘Oh, Molly, we are sorry. We can see you are busy. We don’t want to intrude; we’ll come another time.’ And they were gone.”
“Who was it?” her friend called out from the basement.
“I wanted to say, ‘It certainly wasn’t the Three Nephites,’” Molly admitted, “but I restrained myself and said very calmly, ‘It was my home teachers, but they felt this was not an opportune time to leave their message.’”

First, many people will mourn with us; they won’t judge us. Due to severe panic attacks, anxiety, and depression, our son returned home from his mission after just four weeks. As his parents, we found it difficult to deal with disappointment and sadness because we had prayed so much for his success. Like all parents, we want our children to prosper and be happy. A mission was to be an important milestone for our son. We also wondered what other people might think.

Unbeknownst to us, our son’s return was infinitely more devastating for him. Note that he loved the Lord and wanted to serve, and yet he could not for reasons he struggled to understand. He soon found himself at a point of total hopelessness, battling deep guilt. He no longer felt accepted but spiritually numb. He became consumed by recurring thoughts of death.

While in this irrational state, our son believed that the only action left was to take his own life. It took the Holy Ghost and a legion of angels on both sides of the veil to save him.

While he was fighting for his life and during this immensely difficult time, our family, ward leaders, members, and friends went out of their way to support and minister to us.

I have never felt such an outpouring of love. I have never sensed more powerfully and in such a personal way what it means to comfort those in need of comfort. Our family will be ever grateful for that outpouring.

I cannot describe the countless miracles that accompanied these events. Gratefully, our son survived, but it has taken a long time and much medical, therapeutic, and spiritual care for him to heal and to accept that he is loved, valued, and needed.

Children living in orphanages or refugee camps need simple educational toys that teach them basic skills and help occupy their time. File folder games** teach simple matching skills and are fun for the children. Each kit contains a file folder that includes matching games with shapes, colors, or numbers and an envelope to keep them in.
The girls in the Waynesboro Virginia Stake had the opportunity to make file folder games for the humanitarian center when they were at their stake young women’s camp.
On the day of the project, the girls were excited to be doing something that would help others. Danielle Beidler of the Waynesboro Ward says, “I learned that there are many ways to serve others, and it felt good to be able to help them. I realized that I have been so blessed.”
Chelsea Herring of the Rivanna Ward adds, “It made me think of how fortunate I am to be able to go to school.”
Martha Dudley, who was in charge of craft projects for their stake’s young women’s camp, went to ProvidentLiving.org for ideas on how to get involved with humanitarian kits. She says, “I went to the section that lists the current humanitarian needs and found that one need was for the file folder games. I thought that this would accomplish both of my goals: a humanitarian service project that would let our young women help others, as well as being fun to do at camp.”
The activity was so successful that many girls came back later that day and helped finish the folders that needed additional work and talked about their feelings of helping others. Tiffany Dudley of the Rivanna Ward says, “I learned that giving is easy when you are having fun and thinking of someone else.” In the end they assembled 60 file folder games for the humanitarian center.

One cold winter morning he arose at 5:00 A.M. so that he could get in some early morning practice at the gym. Hearing him move about the house, I too arose.
While he showered, I cooked his breakfast. I put more slices of bacon in the frying pan than would have been allowed had his mother been there to supervise. Three eggs soon sizzled in the pan. Toast was in the toaster. I then blended some milk, ice cream, and protein powder (I had heard that such powder contained “rebounds”). He seemed most pleased when I placed such delicious food before him. As he ate, I sat and looked on.
Washing down the last piece of toast with the protein milkshake he said, “Got to go, pops.”
As we both stood, I said, “Could we just take a minute to kneel down and pray together?”
Without responding with words, he quickly knelt. Kneeling very near him, I spoke for the two of us. I thanked the Lord for such a son and expressed my gratitude for the love that bound the two of us together.
After many heartfelt words, we arose from our knees. Feeling so close to him, I embraced him. Then before he knew what was happening, I pulled his head down and gave him a kiss on the forehead.
He stepped back and grinned and said, “Gee, pops, I wonder how many other Provo High players got a kiss from their father this morning.”
I struck him on the arm and said, “Get out of here or there will be at least one Provo High player who will get a kick in the pants this morning.”
I stood at the window and watched him until he had disappeared across the snow-covered landscape.

We encourage those of you who have a large reservation of names to share them so that members of your extended family or ward and stake can help you in completing that work. You can do this by distributing temple cards to ward and stake members willing to help or by using the FamilySearch computer system to submit the names directly to the temple. This latter option is something Cindy Blevins of Casper, Wyoming, has been doing for years.

Sister Blevins was baptized as a teenager and has been the only member of her family to join the Church. She has completed a vast amount of genealogical work. But there are far too many names for her and her immediate family to complete. Consequently, Sister Blevins has submitted the names to the temple, which, she reports, are often completed in a matter of weeks, usually at one of the two temples closest to her home. She says she likes to think that friends and neighbors in her own ward and stake may be among those helping to complete the work for her ancestors. She appreciates their doing so.

I always believed in God the Eternal Father and in His Son, Jesus Christ. Ever since I was young I felt the desire to be closer to Them, but I didn’t know how.
In May 2000 I had my first contact with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I had just turned 17 when I met the missionaries. They knocked on my friend’s door, and she invited me to hear them. After listening to the discussions and attending sacrament meeting, my friend and I, as well as my father, mother, and younger brother, were baptized.
We were well received into the ward organizations. I was in Young Women. I was very happy and loved our Young Women president, Maria José, who always helped me grow spiritually. At about the time I finished the Young Women program, Maria José became my Sunday School teacher.
One Sunday she notified us that the following week we would be studying the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ and invited each of us to bring a copy of Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage.
The next Sunday we all sat in the room with our books. Each of us had been assigned to study part of the book and explain it to the class. Our teacher orchestrated the reading of scriptures and our explanations. The Spirit influenced us in a magnificent way. Everyone was crying when we talked about Gethsemane and Calvary. It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen in a gospel class. I had never before understood with such profound feeling the power and spirit of the Atonement.
At the end of class we sang a hymn and had a simple prayer. We were very moved. I am grateful for the Atonement and for the plan of salvation. I am especially grateful for the love and concern of our teacher, who wanted us to feel the Holy Ghost bear witness of the gospel and the Atonement.
Elaine Cristina Farias de Oliveira, Panatis Ward, Natal Brazil Potengi Stake

Some single adults may worry that marriage will prohibit reaching their career or educational goals. “We were both worried about school and careers before we got married,” says Thekla Schenk of Mililani, Hawaii. “When we were first married, I wanted things to go my way. We were married on the condition that I would go to school.”
Sister Schenk prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help her finish college. She felt impressed that it would happen when it was supposed to, although she didn’t know how.
Although both are currently in school, the couple has determined that they will focus on Grayson’s education and career first so that Sister Schenk will be able to stay home with their future children. “We turned it into an ‘us’ thing instead of a ‘me’ thing,” Sister Schenk says.
She and her husband have sought happiness in marriage by trying to make each other happy. “It’s difficult to learn to put someone else’s needs first,” she says. “We need to strive to be spiritual enough to listen to promptings about what to do.”

Next Bob planned for his English exam. They had studied 12 authors, but there were only three essay questions on the famous authors. If he reviewed two authors a night, he’d still have Sunday without any studying. A light review before the exam and he would be ready. Bob hoped the plan would work. He always tightened during tests and forgot almost everything.
Meanwhile, for the English test Bob had made some calculations on which three authors Miss Elgart would ask about. She seemed to have four favorites. Bob talked to some of the students who had taken English from her the year before. He found out that she didn’t ask trivial or tricky questions. He studied all twelve authors but put extra work in on her four favorites.
Bob smiled broadly to himself as he looked at the test. He was two-thirds right. Two of the three questions asked about the authors he had singled out. “Not bad!” he said to himself.
Bob prepared to make an outline of each author. There were 45 minutes left in the class period when they received the test. It consisted of three questions, allowing 15 minutes per question. The first question was, “What were the main influences on Hemingway’s writing style?” Bob rewrote the question at the top of his outline: “What happened in Hemingway’s life to make him write the way he did?” The following is his outline using the facts he knew about Hemingway:
Born in a small town in Minnesota.
Father educated as a doctor.
Reporter for newspaper.
Short, brief newspaper style.
Factual.
Service with Italian army.
Saw death and destruction.
Was hurt himself.
Spanish Civil War.
Politics.
More destruction.
Personal Reactions.
Sadness over human misery.
Anger at human folly.
Greatest war story: “A Farewell to Arms.”
By Friday the test results were back. Drew got a 91 on the math test. He missed half of one problem, but had even been given part credit for his work on the one he hadn’t finished. Ninety-one was third best in the class and better than Drew had ever done. Joan’s history score was the highest in the class. Bob was walking on air when he got his English exam back. He had never done better than a C+ on an English test. The A- he received was better than he had dared hope. He had come from his usual C- to a B+ in history. But Drew felt prouder than both. Bob and Joan. He had gone from his usual D+ to a solid B on his history test.

Something momentarily caught the light when Grandmother Jo showed Christopher a miniature Eagle Scout pin that she had received from Christopher’s dad when he became on Eagle Scout. “Oh, I was proud of him as he stood so straight and tall to accept the award. Then he gave me the pin and kissed me.”
How happy Grandmother Jo looks, Christopher thought. When pirates found their treasures, they were very happy, but not in the same way that Grandmother Jo is right now.

When Omer and his parents moved from Tijuana to Monterrey, they left behind family, friends, and a home they knew and loved. It was hard, but it was also exciting for Omer. One thing that wasn’t so exciting, however, was leaving behind a conveniently located temple in San Diego. Now a trip to the temple involves considerable travel.

“I really miss the temple,” says Omer. “Here you usually get only one chance a year to go to the Mexico City Temple. In Tijuana we would cross the border and go to San Diego on the first Saturday every month. The feeling in our family was always a little bit different, a little special on those days. The people in the temple always seemed glad to see us there. I know that it will be the same when the temple is here.”

“Now, don’t you worry,” Grandpa said. “Come and sit down next to me and let me tell you a story that taught me a lesson about complaining.
“Several years ago, when I was the county assessor, I had to ride over the desert in central Utah and count all the sheep. One day when my Indian friend Hunkup and I went out to count a flock, we forgot to take along some water. Now, the desert gets mighty hot. If you don’t take along any water, you have to know where the water holes are or you can die.”
“Did you know where they were, Grandpa?” Alma asked.
“I knew where some of them were, but the closest one was about a three hours’ ride away. On our way to the water hole, I started to get mighty thirsty. I turned to Hunkup and asked, ‘Hunkup, aren’t you thirsty?’ He turned to me and answered, ‘No, I’m not thirsty.’
“We rode on a little farther, and my lips began to crack, they were so dry. I turned to Hunkup again and asked, ‘Hunkup, aren’t you thirsty?’ Again he replied, ‘No, I’m not thirsty.’
“I couldn’t talk anymore. My only thought was to get some water. Even our horses were so thirsty that they could hardly walk. Finally we went over a ridge, and about forty feet in front of us was the water hole.
“Before you could say lickety-split, Hunkup was facedown in that water hole, drinking like he was going to drink it dry. I staggered over, plopped down beside him, and gasped, ‘Hunkup, I thought you said you weren’t thirsty.’ Hunkup lifted his head out of the water, looked at me, and said, ‘Now I’m thirsty.’
“You see, Alma, complaining about being thirsty didn’t get us to the water hole any sooner.”

That joy is also available to women who, having never borne children of their own, express their motherhood by nurturing the children of others. One woman paid tribute to a single sister: “Although I loved my three small children very much and knew I was doing an important work, I often felt worn out and confined to my home. My husband was working two jobs, but there never seemed to be enough money for a baby-sitter and an evening out. Then sweet Monica came into my life. She called regularly to say she was coming over on a given night to stay with my children. To the delight of my little ones, she always arrived with games and treats. My husband and I were free to attend a temple session or to go out for dinner knowing we would return to a peaceful home. Monica consistently refused any payment for her efforts. This wonderful woman now nurtures my granddaughter.”

There’s a girl in our school who doesn’t have many friends. The other day I was walking into school with some of my friends when I saw her. She walked to the doors just in front of me and very shyly said hi. I didn’t want my friends to think I was weird so I wasn’t sure what to do, but I walked in the door and said hi back. Immediately, I knew that simply saying hi was the right thing to do.
Sometimes just saying hi can brighten someone’s day, and I try often to say hi and be more kind in my day-to-day life. It’s made me a better person.

Elder Sebastian Fuller said, “We were hot, tired, and thirsty, but I realized that if I looked outward at the needs of others who had no shelter, I was able to look beyond myself and why I was there. We set up a tent for a woman without a home. Her home was lying on the ground in splinters. I felt a great love for the people we were helping. … The Church has no presence in Carriacou, so this was a great first step in introducing them to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.”

Jessica also likes to read about recipes. She logs on to the Internet and types in the kind of food she wants to make and searches for recipes. She likes to bake cookies and cakes. She likes simple recipes the best—ones that don’t have too many ingredients. Jessica has already planned on baking her own chocolate birthday cake. She found a recipe that looks wonderful, with not too many ingredients.
Also on the Internet, Jessica found a recipe for gingersnaps. “It turned out that the recipe was 128 years old. It was created just after the Civil War. Don’t you think that’s interesting?” she asks.
The cookies tasted great, but Jessica couldn’t resist trying a little experiment. She used food coloring to make the cookies green. Then she put some orange food coloring in some granulated sugar and shook it, turning all the sugar bright orange. Then she sprinkled the orange sugar on the green cookies. “I took three cookies to school,” Jessica says, “but no one would try them except for the teacher.”

George Pierce Billings was only seven years old, but no one had told him to go to bed. Never before had he been allowed to stay up so late. He was beginning to wish that he could go to bed, but the air was thick with suspense and fear. Sleep was impossible.
Father had taken his wagon down to the river time and time again. George had wanted to ride along, but there was no room. Father was helping people move out of Independence, Missouri, before morning. Angry men had threatened to burn anything and anybody still there when the sun rose.
George kept checking the night sky. Father had been gone a long time, and Mother was still busy packing. George was worried. His job was to watch his little sister, but he was watching for sunrise, too.
Four-year-old Eunice was getting very tired. Leaning against the wooden porch, George cradled her small curly-haired head in his lap and thought about their Missouri home. He had been only five when they had come, and they had planned to stay forever. He had watched and tried to help his father clear the land. Together, they had built this home and the barn. Father had planted crops on most of the 34 acres, not only for his family, but also for the many new Saints who would not have time to raise a crop that season. George liked Missouri. He liked playing in the trees. He liked catching fireflies. “Even the fireflies must be sleeping now,” he thought.
Then he remembered the big fire. Father had cut 24 tons of hay and hauled it six miles to the property rented by Bishop Partridge from Governor Boggs. He had stacked it there in a long, tall pile. Then, last month, someone had set it on fire and burned it to the ground. George felt sorry for his father.
The night was very dark. Where was Father? Why didn’t he come to get them?
George thought he heard an explosion. Light flashed, but he couldn’t tell where it had come from. In fear, he jumped to his feet, startling Eunice. Light exploded all around him. No, it was above him, high above him—higher than any cannon or musket could fire. George could not believe his eyes! They were fixed on lights in the heavens bursting and streaming across the sky.
George rushed into the house, Eunice right behind him. “Mother! Mother! The sky is on fire!” Mother pulled them close. “Have the mobs come for us already?” she cried.
“No, Mother, no!” George pulled her to the doorway. “It’s not the mobs, Mother. It’s a miracle from Heavenly Father!”
And so it was. The heavens danced with a glorious meteor shower for the rest of the night. Stars raced back and forth across the November sky, lighting the way for the fleeing Saints. In the miraculous light, George saw his father’s wagon returning. Cheered and strengthened by the heavenly signs, George’s family and many others safely settled themselves along the Missouri River banks before sunrise. The meteor showers continued until dawn.