Gospel Story Finder

I am grateful to my father Celestino Dumaguin, who served as one of the pioneer missionaries to the Far East Hong Kong Philippine mission. Through his missionary service he was able to find the home of my mother in the city of Cavite, Philippines. He and his companion, Elder Mark Evans, were able to teach her the Gospel of Jesus Christ and baptize her.

Although my father has already passed on, he left a legacy of good works. By profession, he was a shiatsu therapist. He used this talent to relieve those in pain and discomfort. He also used traditional Hawaiian and Chinese medicinal remedies that were taught to him by his grandmother. He became a respected healer or in Hawaiian, a kahuna or medicine man. People would come from all over the islands to have him attend to their ailments. The majority of the time he would do it free of charge or they would pay him whatever they could. I asked him one day. Dad where do your healing talents come from? He looked at me and said, ‘from Heavenly Father, of course'.”
“For all have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God.
To some is given one, and to some is given another, that all may be profited thereby.
And to others it is given to have faith to heal.”[14]
I realized at that moment that my father loved the Lord and acknowledged the Lord in all things. Remembering his works and the way he lived his life uplifts me daily. He used his talents to glorify his Father in Heaven.

When the question of going out with nonmembers arose, Heidi Grey, 17, had this to say, “Having tried it, I can look at both sides of the issue. It is hard to keep your standards when you’re going with boys oblivious to those ideals. They don’t know and can’t accept the high principles we have, and it makes life tough many times. But now I’m dating someone who is very strong in the Church and at last my head is above water. I can see where I want to be going.”

Howard Tonks was called to serve a mission to Australia on November 17, 1916, by President Joseph F. Smith. It is interesting to me that this was the same year that President Smith told Harvey Fletcher to go to work in New York City. Howard left his home in Victor, Idaho, on December 30, 1916, by train; reported at the Office of the First Presidency in Salt Lake City on January 3, 1917; and boarded a steamer in San Francisco on January 31, 1917, bound for Hawaii, then Pago Pago (Samoa), and finally Sydney, Australia. This was during World War I, and he saw some German battleships and merchant ships being held by the United States in Pago Pago. He finally arrived in Sydney on February 21, 1917 (a three-week voyage!).

Howard kept a brief journal of his mission experiences that is cherished by his family. Howard served in Melbourne and Perth. It was wartime, and many young men his age were being sent to Europe to fight in the trenches of World War I. He watched as thousands of Australian men were loaded onto ships to go to war. At first Howard was very lonely and a little discouraged. However, he learned to love the Australian and Maori people, and they learned to love him as he brought them the truths of the gospel.

Howard had to stay in Australia a little longer than the average missionary because of the war. Due to submarine danger there was a genuine concern for ships traveling the oceans. The armistice for World War I was signed in November 1918. Most of the ships were used to bring troops home from overseas, so Howard served until March 1920—a little over three years from when he began his mission.

I never truly appreciated the hymn “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” (Hymns, no. 30) until I was on tour with an institute choir in Wyoming and Montana. One of our last stops was at Martin’s Cove. We spent time looking around the visitors’ center and then went on a handcart pull. When we reached the top of the cove, we gathered and sang a beautiful arrangement of this sacred hymn. As I contemplated the sacrifices made for us by our forebears, I could not hold back the tears. This hymn taught me that each of us has the same responsibility to move forward with faith, trusting in the Lord. If we do this, we too will be able to proclaim, “All is well!”

Live theater was my passion! As a young adult, I threw myself into acting and singing on the stage. I was blessed with talent and hoped to establish a career performing professionally. I won the most challenging roles I could get and always behaved professionally in order to win the respect of my fellow thespians.
I was thrilled when the most influential director in our area told me that he would be holding auditions for an operetta and that he wanted me to try out. The show would be performed in our area’s most prestigious venue, and it seemed that my director friend already had me in mind for the leading role.
The script was unavailable for perusal before the audition, but the operetta was based on a novel by an 18th-century philosopher, which I read. I also became familiar with the show’s music, which was exceptionally beautiful and challenging.
The audition went well, and I was soon informed that the leading role—the most important part—was mine! I believed that this role was a huge opportunity.
I walked on clouds of excitement—until the script arrived. As I read it, my elation rapidly floated away. While the novel and the music were worthy, the script was irreverent and contained suggestive and inappropriate stage directions. I knew that I shouldn’t be involved in this production. It was a terrible disappointment.
Suddenly I had a dilemma. Theater etiquette dictates that after accepting a role, an actor does not quit because the production schedule does not allow time for changes in cast. Backing out now would be considered very unprofessional. I feared losing the trust of the theater company, offending the director, and even losing the opportunity to continue performing elsewhere.
Of course, I was tempted to rationalize! A voice strutted across my mind, proclaiming, “You can’t quit now. The script isn’t so bad. The good in the show will make up for the naughty parts.” But the Holy Spirit was always in the wings of my heart—firmly, patiently, unwaveringly cuing me that I needed to exit the operetta.
I knew what I had to do. Trembling, I picked up the phone and dialed the director.
“Hello, sir,” I said when he answered. “This is Annie.”
“Annie! I’m so excited about the show. Did you get the script?”
“Yes, I did, and I … I …”
I burst into tears. Talk about unprofessional!
Somehow, between sobs, I managed to explain to the director why I could not be in his show. And then I waited for the world to end.
The dear man laughed. He respected my choice. At first he tried to talk me into staying with the show, but he relented. He said he would still adore me even if I didn’t want to be in his operetta. And he simply asked me to bring the script to him right away so that he could give it to somebody else. I hung up the phone, mortified at my weeping but grateful for the director’s affectionate, understanding response.
I wiped away my tears and then grabbed the script and jumped into my car. As the engine started, the radio also came to life. It was preset to the local classical music station, and to my amazement, the tune playing was the overture of the very same operetta. I had never ever heard it played on the radio before.
I felt like Heavenly Father was playing this music for me. He wanted me to understand that He loved me and that He approved of my choice. The music coming over the airwaves was one of God’s tender mercies. Through it I felt the comfort of His love.

He had big dreams. He and his partner had placed second at the junior level United States nationals, third at U.S. nationals, and first in an international competition in China. His plan was to compete in the 2006 Winter Olympics and then go on a mission after he turned 21. But when he was 18, just when everything was going smoothly, he ran into a snag.
“I wasn’t really enjoying it, and I was having a hard time with the sport,” he remembers. “I was just trying to push through it, and I could not do it anymore. I said, ‘Lord, what do I do?’”
Chris got the first part of his answer when he went to talk to his bishop, who encouraged him to pray about his plan to delay his mission. “His advice kind of went in one ear and out the other,” Chris admits. “But my life got to the point where I really did have to ask, and I really did have to listen.”
The second part of Chris’s answer came during a sacrament meeting. As he listened to his Young Men president talk about his own mission call, the Spirit told him, “‘Chris, you need to serve a mission when you’re 19, or you’re going to have a tough life.’ The message was so clear I actually turned around to see if someone was there,” he says. “The feeling came back 10 times stronger, and I knew I had to go on a mission.”
That night Chris called his partner and coaches to give them the news. When he had first started training with them, he told them that a mission was a possibility. But none of them had expected him to go—at least not yet. Although they were disappointed, Chris says, “They’ve been very supportive of me and my mission, and I give them credit for that.”
Chris feels peace about his decision and where his life is going. “I’m grateful Heavenly Father gave me that prompting,” he says. “But it’s been really hard since then. Satan tried to bring me down in any way possible.”
To combat the fears and temptations, Chris read the scriptures and prayed the way he used to dedicate himself to practicing at the ice rinks in Delaware, where he lived while he trained. He studied the scriptures at least twice a day, and he set aside time to pray earnestly at least three times a day. “That really protected me,” he says. He also credits much of his help to surrounding himself with good friends and family when he came back home to the Thirteenth Ward of the Salt Lake Central Stake.
There are lots of rules in ice dancing—lots of required and restricted moves. To succeed takes a lot of creativity and dancing talent. Chris thinks his experiences with ice dancing will help him on his mission—experiences like learning to get along with a partner, following strict rules, and being dedicated to something every day for a long time.
His call to the Baltic States Mission, Russian speaking, was exciting for Chris, especially since he knows speaking Russian will help him if he still wants to return to ice dancing after his mission. (Many of the competitors and coaches speak Russian.) He also wants to be a coach eventually. But for now, he says, “I just want to try to bring people to a knowledge of the gospel.”

I thought of the young couple out in Samoa in those early days who were sent on a mission—a young man and his wife. This young married couple had arrived in Samoa on a ship and as they were being put ashore in a small boat the hardened seamen stood at the rails and wept over the young couple going to what they termed a “god-forsaken place.” There are graves in Samoa, you know, as there are on the other South Pacific islands, of missionaries who were “forgotten,” but not by the Lord. There is a conviction and a dedication that we can have, and that we ought to have, to be obedient.

The story is told of a traveler who asked a farmer, “How’s the cotton crop going to be this year?”
The farmer replied, “There won’t be any. I didn’t bother to plant it, because I was afraid of the boll weevil.”
Upon hearing this, the traveler asked further, “Well, are you going to harvest a big corn crop?”
“It’s the same,” came the response. “I was afraid we wouldn’t get enough rain for the kernels to mature.”
The traveler pursued, “At least you will have a good potato harvest.”
“Nope. I didn’t dare plant any, because I was afraid of insects.”
Somewhat frustrated, the traveler then asked, “Well, what is it that you have planted?”
“Nothing, my good man,” came the answer. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

A few years ago, Amy and I were in Hong Kong on assignment from the university and attended a session at the Hong Kong Temple. After the session we received a briefing from the Asia Area Presidency on the state of the Church in Asia. In the course of the briefing, Elder Kent D. Watson showed a picture of an elderly Mongolian woman standing in front of her yurt, the traditional Mongolian tent. He went on to explain that this sister, a recent convert to the Church, had, over the course of many months, saved her money so that she could pay for the four-day train ride from Mongolia to Hong Kong to attend the temple for the first time. She did all this at her own expense without any monetary support from the Church. As I looked at the picture of this dedicated sister and thought of her four-day train ride, my own commitment to the temple seemed rather pale in comparison.

When I was about 18, I took a sewing class. One day three girls a few feet away from me started using offensive language. I didn’t know if I should ignore them to avoid a conflict or if I should stand up for my standards and ask them to stop. Eventually, I said as nicely as possible, “Excuse me, but could you please watch your language?”
The biggest of the girls glared at me and said, “We’ll talk however we want.”
I said, “But do you really have to swear? It really offends me.”
She said, “Then just don’t listen.”
I was starting to get upset and said, “It’s hard not to listen when you’re talking so loudly.”
She said, “Get over it.”
I gave up. I was frustrated with the girls, but even more frustrated with myself. I couldn’t believe I’d let my tone get confrontational. The girls were still swearing, and now we were all angry.
After I’d calmed down, I saw that the girls were having trouble with their sewing machine. I knew what was wrong because I’d had the same problem earlier. So I showed them how to fix it. I saw the expression change on the biggest girl’s face. “Hey,” she said, “we’re sorry.” I couldn’t believe it—she was apologizing. “I’m sorry too,” I told her. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry like that.”
I went back to my sewing machine and didn’t hear another swear word. That experience taught me that our words might not change others’ attitudes, but kindness and service often can.
Katie Pike, Utah, USA

David and Jean had lived frugally and saved money. When they retired, they planned to travel, go on missions, and still leave their children an inheritance. At age 70, Jean died suddenly following a short illness.
David never imagined Jean would pass away so young before they could live their dream life. Traveling wasn’t appealing anymore. Leaving an inheritance for the children became a lower priority as they were all living comfortably.
David began to find purpose by volunteering and donating as he could to worthy causes. He continued to pray for heavenly help in his new circumstances. Inspiration followed. He felt impressed to involve the grandchildren in his volunteer efforts.
As the grandchildren grew older, he gave each of them a modest “Grandma Jean Allowance” to donate, after careful research, to a charitable cause of their choice. They bonded in their quest to bless others in memory of Grandma Jean.

Carlos was excited for Christmas. This year there was something different in his home. A large tree made of shiny green paper was attached to the door.
Mom, why is there a tree on the door?
We’re going to do something a little different for Christmas this year.
Carlos wondered what would be different. His sister, Araceli, and his little brother, Diego, wondered too.
I made these paper ornaments for the tree. Each day we will write something about Jesus Christ on an ornament and then put it on the tree. By Christmas Eve, the whole tree will be covered!
Carlos liked that idea. Araceli ran to the ornaments and grabbed a red pencil.
Jesus was baptized.
That’s a good one. Can I write that Jesus did many miracles?
That would be perfect. You both have great ideas!
Every night after dinner, Araceli and Carlos made another ornament and put it on the tree. Diego helped by saying, “I love Jesus!”
When it was hard to think of more ideas, they looked in the scriptures. Carlos didn’t know there were so many verses about Jesus!
On Christmas Eve the whole family sang songs and read the ornaments they had put on the tree. Carlos was happy he knew so much about Jesus. He was all ready for Christmas.

“I started coming to church when I was 16,” he explained. “I met the missionaries on the street. I thought they were lawyers or executives by the way they were dressed. Then I realized they were foreigners. I was curious about them, so I started hanging around them, asking questions.
“In my first discussion, they told me about the Book of Mormon and about Joseph Smith, and I thought, What a great experience to have. I believed it all.”
“Mom didn’t like that and didn’t want me to come to church at first, but she finally said it was all right. Still, when I asked her if I could get baptized, she said no way. So I continued going to church for about seven months, not being a member.”
“What finally changed her mind?” I asked.
“Well, I fasted and prayed, of course, and my birthday was coming up, so I told her that the best gift she could give me would be permission to be baptized. I guess I bugged her so much about it, she finally said to go ahead. You know the rest of the story.”

Elder Merrill C. Oaks, formerly of the Seventy, tells of an experience he had while serving as a bishop. A young woman in his ward was praying to know if she should marry the young man she was dating, but she didn’t feel she had received an answer.

Elder Oaks urged her to continue praying, but he also counseled her to decide for herself. “I told her she was expecting the Lord to make the decision for her,” he said, “but He won’t do that. Even a decision as important as marriage requires us to exercise our own agency. …

“I told her she must exercise her own agency by studying it out in her mind, making a tentative decision, and then asking the Lord for a confirmation of her decision.”

She eventually got her answer, explaining, “I just began to feel [more and more positive], and I knew that my prayers were being answered” (“How to Get an Answer,” New Era, Aug. 2001, 47).

Through the years the Tabangos’ humble home was blessed with 15 children, but only four survived beyond the age of five. The couple’s faith, however, was not shaken. In the fall of 1978 and at great personal sacrifice, Brother and Sister Tabango traveled across the South American continent to Brazil for the dedication of the São Paulo Temple, where they renewed their friendship with President Spencer W. Kimball, who greeted them warmly. Following the dedication, the couple was endowed and sealed, giving them hope and assurance of an eternal family. Later the children they had lost in life were sealed to them for eternity.

When disappointments come into your life—and they will—you have an important decision to make. Do you wallow in self-pity or do you arise and shine forth? As a thirty-five-year-old single woman graduating from BYU, Amanda de Lange chose the latter. (The following is taken from Ann Brenoff and Amy Page Christiansen, “Amanda de Lange: Woman Who Rescued Orphans Shares a Final Message,” Huffington Post, 13 July 2012; huffingtonpost.com/2012/07/13/amanda-de-lange-starfish_n_1660170.html?utm_hp_ref=religion&ir=Religion.)

After graduation Amanda went to Taiwan to teach English, then on to Xi’an, China, where she continued teaching and started volunteering at the city orphanage. She wanted to do even more, so the orphanage decided to let her care for babies with special medical needs. Just four days later, with the legal papers signed, she went to the orphanage and picked out six babies and took them home. Her Starfish foster home had begun.

“She laughed at her own ambition,” recalled a friend. “A single lady taking care of six malnourished babies, some needing to be fed with a dropper, all on her own.”

In an article highlighting Amanda’s life, journalist Ann Brenoff described how Starfish blossomed:

Amanda knew she couldn’t stop at just six, so she hired some help, and from there [her ­foster home] just grew and grew. . . . At one point, Amanda operated her orphanage out of three large ­apartments—housing up to 50 babies, with 26 nannies and volunteers coming and going all the time.

In all, she cared for 168 foster kids with medical needs that required nearly 250 surgeries. Eighty-one of those children ended up being adopted into families all over the world.

Amanda took the sickest babies from Chinese orphanages and brought them back to life. She fed them, held them, nurtured them. She convinced the world’s top doctors and surgeons to come [heal] them, to restore them, to fix their damaged hearts and cleft palates. And then she saved them again by creating a new, temporary family for them—a small army of devoted volunteers who comforted the babies through their nightmares, soothed them when they [suffered], taught them how to love and be loved. She then helped her Starfish babies find ­[loving] families. She saved them, loved them and then sent them on their way—pure and simple [though] never easy. . . .

[One mother says she] will always remember what Amanda said to her on the day she came to Starfish to pick up her son. It was, “I know my place. I am to love them, nurture them and care for them. I am to then give them up so that they may experience the love of a family.”

Early this year Amanda was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer. She eventually ended up in hospice care in Nashville. Starfish families traveled “thousands of miles to see her and say their good-byes, bringing along many of the 81 adopted children who have passed through Starfish’s door—[many of whom] wouldn’t be alive if not for Amanda.”

Twenty-six days ago, on July 14, Amanda de Lange, a shining light, truly a standard for the nations, passed away at age fifty-one.

Five days before she died, in a letter to the Starfish community, she wrote:

To the babies of Starfish, I want you to know that I have given it my best effort, my all. My life has been to care for and love you. Wherever you go in your lives, I wish you the very best. May you always be drawn to those in need and may you never forget that at a very critical time in your life there was someone there at the door to welcome you into the house. Be the change you want to see in the world.

In 1806, the British ship ‘Port au Prince’ was ambushed in Tonga, by a high chief named Finau. Upon seeing the guns on the ship, the chief figured he could utilize them to assist with the civil war that was going on in Tonga. He quickly captured the ship, murdered the captain and almost all the sailors except a few. One of those saved was a cabin boy named William Mariner, who Finau adopted as his son. Mariner at 16 became the first European to document accurate details of the civil wars in Tonga in the 1800’s.
Months later it was brought to Finau’s attention, that William Mariner was accused of writing a letter to any sea captains who might come to the islands seeking revenge for the ambush of the ‘Port-au-Prince’. Finau, of course, was perturbed by this story and demanded that this letter be delivered and read to him. After listening to the interpretation of the letter, his anger was calmed. He showed compassion for the young cabin boy and claimed that this was a letter from a longing young man who was homesick for his mother, and his homeland, England.
Because Tonga had no written language before then, Finau was amazed with everything he heard from the translation which came out of that piece of paper. He reached out and grabbed the paper, turning it back and forth, upside down while shaking his head slowly from side to side, and asked,
“Can you put me in the paper?” It was then Mariner turned it and wrote “F-I-N-A-U” on the back of the paper. Of course, the chief couldn’t decipher the writing and couldn’t comprehend the chicken scratch. Another English sailor was called forth by the chief and instructed to read it. The sailor read, “F-I-N-A-U.” Chief FINAU again grabbed the paper, looked fervently at it and asked, “Where are my legs?”
After the translation was explained to satisfy the curiosity of the chief, Finau thought that the reader must have known what the writer wrote, prior to reading it. It was then Finau whispered another name and had the reader loudly announce it before the rest of the group. Finau the fearsome among the warriors finally realized that the cabin boy was a mightier warrior since he had the ‘mana’ or (magic) of reading and writing. The chief was astonished when they told him that a person in faraway Britain could read and understand everything that was translated to him.
“Please” Finau pleaded with Mariner. “When you return to Polata’ane (Britain), send for me to learn the Mana.’ Education is critical. Learn all the magic you can while here at this university.

A wise first step is to guide each deacon to a spiritual awareness of the sacredness of his ordained calling. In my life this was accomplished when the bishopric asked that I take the sacrament to a shut-in who lived about a mile from the chapel. That special Sunday morning, as I knocked on the door of Brother Wright and heard his feeble reply, “Come in,” I entered not only his humble cottage but also a room filled with the Spirit of the Lord. I approached his bedside and carefully placed a piece of the bread to his lips. I then held the cup of water, that he might drink. As I departed, I saw him smile as he said, “God bless you, my boy.” And God did bless me with an appreciation for the sacred emblems which continues even today.

And the stories the banners tell! Marylynne Aposhina of the Hunter Ninth Ward, Hunter Utah West Stake, designed her banner after an oriental rug her great grandfather, Zadik Moses Aposhina, had made. A wealthy rug designer, her grandfather was forced to flee Armenia because of persecution against Christians. He lost his wealth, and some of his family members were sold as slaves in Mexico, but after overwhelming struggles, they finally reached the Salt Lake Valley.
“Making the banner helped me appreciate my heritage even more,” said Marylynne. “My mother and grandmother and I had fun together doing it, too. I don’t get to do things with both of them very often.”

I was reminded of this beautiful concept of collective missionary work when I received an email one day. A brother who said he was the son of the mission president in Wichita, Kansas, wondered if I was the wife of Robert Monson. The brother went on to say he was looking for the Elder Monson who served in the Central States Mission in 1959. That was my husband.
He told me about two young elders, Elders Bennett and Thompson, who were inspired recently to enter an apartment building. They rapped on the first door and found an elderly lady who invited them to come back the next day. They set a time.
When they returned for the appointment, they learned that this elderly sister had an old triple combination (Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price) the missionaries had given her in 1959. She had read it many times and knew the teachings in it were true. She had not joined the Church then because her husband did not want her to attend church or be baptized. Her husband had passed away recently, and she prayed that she might find the missionaries again. In her triple combination were the names of the two missionaries from 1959: Robert Monson and Granade Curran, my husband and his companion.
Over the next several weeks, this woman learned about the plan of salvation and the blessings of the temple. Her son had passed away at age 22, and she was thrilled at the possibility of being reunited with him. When the missionaries invited her to be baptized, she joyfully accepted their invitation.
Both my husband and his companion, Elder Curran, have passed away, but I can imagine them attending this beautiful baptism from beyond the veil.
As the mission president’s son told me the story, I was reminded that the Savior does not forget any of us. He is always with us if we allow Him into our lives. The New Testament tells the story of Zacchaeus, who climbed a sycamore tree to see the Savior (see Luke 19:1–10). Even up in the tree, Zacchaeus was found by the Savior, who asked to dine at his home. Similarly, an elderly sister prayed and waited for the missionaries to knock on her door, and they did. The Savior knows all of us. “For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which [is] lost” (Luke 19:10).
Two sets of missionaries—one over 60 years ago and then one more recently—brought this sister to Jesus Christ and in turn strengthened their own testimonies and found joy in the Lord. I am humbled that I could be a bystander in this story, feeling the joy of all involved in bringing this sister to the Savior (see Doctrine and Covenants 18:15).