Gospel Story Finder

She also relates this story about her father:
“One time when I was at home, a man came to the door asking for my father. He was not around. The man gave me an envelope and asked me to give it to him. I thought it was a letter, so I took it and put it under his pillow, which is what we always did with anything that came for him. When he got home and found that envelope, he was very upset, and I heard him screaming from the bedroom. He said, ‘Who put this under my pillow?’
“I told him I had done it. He said, ‘You are my first born and I would expect you to know better’.
“I did not understand what I had done. He said, ‘Take this and give it back to the owner, he is not going to take care of me and my family’.”
“I still did not understand and asked him to explain. He told me it contains money. The man had a problem with his land and my father was trying to help him. The following morning the man came and asked me if I had given my father the money. I told him that if he had told me yesterday that it was a bribe he wanted to give to my father I would have warned him against doing that. I told him that my father was very angry and did not ever want him to enter his office again. If he was the rightful owner of the land, my father would help him without accepting money.”

But sometimes finding time together is tough. “It’s not just my schedule,” Lesa notes. “We don’t get much time together because my siblings are gone a lot too, and my dad travels a lot.”
So with their families, these youth have had to find ways to make time for each other. “I used to go out a lot with friends on weekends, but now I try to save that time for my family. I see my friends on school days,” says Celestine, a Mia Maid. “And when my dad is home, we all try to accommodate his schedule.”

Melinda Moody, 17, of Tempe, Arizona, won the 1972 Piano Concerto Contest sponsored by the Phoenix Symphony Guild and was honored by performing the Prokofiev Piano Concerto #1 with the Phoenix Symphony Orchestra.
As a winner, she was eligible to compete in another guild contest in which she won a full scholarship for the summer to the Music Academy of the West in Santa Barbara, California. There she studied piano with Jerome Lowenthal, noted concert artist. Melinda hopes to be a concert pianist herself.

Elsie Power is one such sister, who writes: “I knew nothing about Zoom or technology and was afraid I might, press the wrong button but our bishop was there at the end of the phone, whenever needed, to walk me through the process. He is always available, and that is reassuring. I am now confident in using Zoom and enjoy meeting with the ward and now know how to contact my family members all over the world. It is a wonderful blessing and a friend who I once thought was my enemy.”

“My mission did not help my football,” Bart says. “Some guys go out and expect that since they’re making a sacrifice for the Lord, the Lord is going to bless them by improving their football skills. That’s not the case.” Toward the end of his mission Bart did rise at 4:30 A.M. for conditioning workouts. (“All my companions wanted to be transferred. I know that,” he laughs.) But he wasn’t a superman when he returned. He had to scramble to regain his skills and reflexes.
“I wasn’t better than I was before my mission,” he confides. “I wasn’t even as good. But it didn’t take me long to get back into shape.” Bart also notes that by the time he returned to BYU, the starting center ahead of him had graduated, and the position was open to Bart for the next three years, whereas he would have been second string two of those three years had he chosen to stay and play.

Wind riffles the leaves …
I shiver,
Huddling up to a tree.
Propelling wind urges the clouds,
Raindrops fall, faster, faster,
Bucketfuls dumped from a higher rain barrel.
I know the fireplace at home
Is warmly snapple-cracking,
Splinters popping.
Wind gulps hungrily at my slicker,
Trying to suck it away from me.
Trees bend closer to one another for comfort.
Wind whips streamlets of my hair at me;
Sheets of water slide down my back.
I left a pair of socks
Drying on the hearth;
They are warm now,
Waiting for my feet like toasters for bread.
Trees groan, tormented.
The storm opens its jowls and bites one off.
The river swells, leaps at the bridge—
Wood snaps, cracked to splinters.
It rains.
I sog.
Water diffuses into my system,
Diluting the blood.
I’d left the chicken soup on low;
It too would be waiting,
Wondering why I did not come.
The river churns, frothy, grabbing mouthfuls of trees.
The slicker flaps against my leg,
Like a wounded duck, whapping in the wind.
Water drips into my brain,
Puddling at the bottom.
Lightning cracks the sky in two,
Like a deep midnight eggshell,
Jagging a tree.
The trunk splits, peeling back the bark.
Boulders of thunder roll
Tumbling from the sky.
My ears blink.
The tree lies torn, twisted in pain.
My sopping shoes schlupp
In drooling mud
Sucking to swallow them.
The tree cries.
I huddle, raincoat clinging to me for reassurance,
And see the lights.

I have a bad habit. I like to bite my fingernails. My parents are always trying to get me to stop. One Sunday morning my Primary teacher, Sister Langston, asked if I would stay after class. When we were alone, she asked if she could see my fingernails. She had seen me biting them all during her lesson. I was a little embarrassed to show them to her because I had chewed them so badly. After I showed her my nails, I was surprised when she showed me hers. She had the same problem! She told me that she wanted me to stop so that I wouldn’t be biting my nails when I was her age. She told me that if I could overcome the temptation to bite my fingernails, I would become a stronger person. We decided to have a contest to see who could grow her fingernails out first.
I’m glad I have a Primary teacher who cares about me and wants me to overcome bad habits. She has taught me that we are on earth to learn to become better, even when things may be difficult for us. I have also learned that no matter what age Sister Langston and I are, we both have to keep trying to improve so that we can be strong enough to be able to go back to live with our Heavenly Father again.
At first I wanted to win the contest, but I have decided it would be even better if we both win!Taylor Lynne Ottley, age 8Escondido, California

Consider this letter from one lovely young woman:
“I’m writing this,” she said, “from the depths of a broken heart, in the hope that it may be a warning to other girls never to partake of the bitterness that has come to me. I would give all that I have or ever hope to have if I could go back to those happy, carefree days before the first little taint of sin came upon my heart. I scarcely realized I was slipping into something that could bring such sorrow and ruin into a person’s life.
“I wish I could reveal to you the anguish and regret that fill my heart today, the loss of self-respect and the realization that life’s most priceless gift has slipped away from me. I reached out too eagerly for the excitements and thrills of life, and they have turned to ashes in my hands.”
This young woman, unfortunately, discovered that the heaviest burden one may have to bear in this life is “the burden of sin.” (Harold B. Lee, “Stand Ye in Holy Places,” Ensign, July 1973, p. 122.)

During this conference we have formally installed a new president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a momentous occasion.
Only 12 times in the 144 years of our history has this been done. In the solemn assembly held this morning in the Tabernacle, President Spencer W. Kimball was accepted by the vote of the people as the President of the Church, but also as the prophet, seer, and revelator of the Lord.
The voting was unanimous. The positive and affirmative confirmation of the Holy Spirit was here also. Everyone in the great Tabernacle felt the presence of that divine influence. It was experienced also by those who listened on the radio and witnessed the proceedings by television. And as was the case in the days of Moses, “All the people … say, Amen.” (See Deut. 27.)
And what a wonderful man has been chosen. Having directed the Council of the Twelve for several years, and having served as President of the Church by action of the Council of the Twelve in the interim period from President Harold B. Lee’s death until this conference, he now is sustained by the vote of the membership as their divinely appointed spiritual guide and the interpreter of the word and will of the Lord.
As the Church members today by unanimous vote sustained our new President, they not only took upon themselves a great responsibility in pledging to follow him, but they also preserved a vital principle of the restored gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Their vote was a covenant, made with uplifted hands before God and witnesses who were numbered in the hundreds of thousands in the Tabernacle, on the radio, and by television.

I could not help noticing the lady in the seat across the aisle. She was looking around the bus with her eyes wide and glossy, her thin hands clasped together in front of her. She kept squinting out the window, shaking her wispy hair, and making a funny noise. She began fidgeting more and more, and I wondered if she was going to make a scene. I turned to the window, trying to ignore her, but curiosity made me look back again.
It was then that I saw tears in her eyes. I wondered if she might be in trouble. I wanted to help, but what if she did make a scene? I wouldn’t know what to do. Besides, I thought, I have to get to school on time, and my stop is coming up.
Then I looked over to where she was sitting and saw the fearful expression on her face. The next thing I knew, I stood up, crossed the aisle, and sat down beside her.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need some help?”
Her eyes were wet and her hands were shaking. Her delicate face stared at me blankly, like a young child’s, so I asked her again, “Are you okay?”
She looked down at her green handbag and fumbled through it for a pen and a notebook. She began writing, “Have we left Ottawa? I think I took the wrong bus.”
I picked up the pen and wrote, “Are you deaf?” She responded with a nod. “Don’t worry,” I continued to write. “We’ll figure this out.”
My stop was coming up next, and I knew this would make me late, but I didn’t ring the bell. Instead, I approached the bus driver, who phoned the station for directions. I wrote the alternate route down for her, and the bus driver said he would ensure that she caught the connecting bus.
“What is your name?” I wrote quickly, before getting off at a stop quite a distance now from the school.
“Anna,” she scribbled. “Thank you. You are the friend I was praying for.” A calm smile spread across her face that made her hazel eyes sparkle. I could feel her love and appreciation. As I smiled back at her, I felt an understanding that bonded us together.
As the door swished behind me, and I waved good-bye, I could not believe that I had almost let Anna take that frightening journey alone. I ran all the way back to school with a smile on my face. I was glad I had listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost telling me that someone else needed help.

“I received a call from Grandpa one day. He was very excited about being honored by the First Presidency for seventeen years of his broadcasts, Sunday Evening from Temple Square.“
The son-in-law went on to explain: “We always listened on Sunday night to Grandpa’s broadcast, and then the children would get together and phone and tell him they’d heard him.”

Timothy Wood had a fun time serving at the dance. He made sure that everyone was having a great time, and even led a large group in a “train,” where everyone lined up behind each other and snaked through the gym. Timothy says that serving is acting as Christ would and that doing so has built his testimony. “I act better when I’m here,” he says. “I’m calmer, more patient, and I think of others’ needs before mine. It helps me to be more like Christ would have me be.”
Timothy says that on some nights at special-needs Mutual, when he’s waiting for his friend, Stephen, to arrive, he’ll remember something he needs to get for the activity. But Timothy will wait for Stephen to arrive because he wants him to feel welcome when he gets there. “Being a volunteer helps me to care more for others,” Timothy says.

Like Lacy, Melissa Piepgrass was also terribly concerned for her brother. “We were taken into the gym, and all of a sudden I was really scared about my older brother, because I know he goes into the cafeteria a lot. I was crying and praying for him.”
After what seemed like an eternity, the students were released. All around the school, emotional reunions took place as students found their siblings and their parents who had gathered outside. Melissa found her brother in a park across the street. “I ran over and gave him a big hug.” Her voice trembles as she says, “That’s the first time I ever really felt how much my older brother loves me.”

Part of my calling as a full-time missionary is working with less-active members. My current companion and I began this part of our assignment with great enthusiasm, and we found an article in the August 1997 Liahona (Spanish) entitled “Returning to the Fold” that really helped us understand what the Lord wants us to do: offer hope to our brothers and sisters who are not enjoying all the blessings of the gospel.
Elder Rogríguez H.,Venezuela Barcelona Mission

Defining moments in life come often and unexpectedly, even when you are still young. Allow me to share a story about a high school student, Kevin, chosen to travel out of state for a student leader event, as told in his own words.
“My turn in line came, and the official-looking registration clerk asked for my name. She looked at her list and said, ‘So you’re the young man from Utah.’
“‘You mean I’m the only one?’ I asked.
“‘Yes, the only one.’ She handed me my name tag with ‘Utah’ printed below my name. As I clipped it on, I felt like I was being branded.
“I crowded into the hotel elevator with five other high school students with name tags like mine. ‘Hey, you’re from Utah. Are you a Mormon?’ asked one student.
“I felt out of place with all these student leaders from all over the country. ‘Yes,’ I hesitantly admitted.
“‘You’re the guys who believe in Joseph Smith, who said he saw angels. You don’t actually believe that, do you?’
“I didn’t know what to say. The students in the elevator were all staring at me. I had just arrived, and already everyone thought I was different. I became a little defensive but then said, ‘I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.’
“‘Where had that come from?’ I wondered. I didn’t know I had it in me. But the words felt true.
“‘Yeah, I was told that you were all just religious nuts,’ he said.
“With that, there was an uncomfortable pause as the elevator door opened. As we gathered our luggage, he walked down the hall laughing.
“Then, a voice behind me asked, ‘Hey, don’t Mormons have some sort of another Bible?’
“Oh no. Not again. I turned to see another student who had been in the elevator with me, Christopher.
“‘It’s called the Book of Mormon,’ I said, wanting to drop the subject. I picked up my bags and started walking down the hall.
“‘Is that the book Joseph Smith translated?’ he asked.
“‘Yeah, it is,’ I answered. I kept on walking, hoping to avoid embarrassment.
“‘Well, do you know how I could get one?’
“A scripture I learned in seminary suddenly came to me. ‘I am not ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ.’ As this entered my mind, I felt ashamed I had been so embarrassed.
“For the rest of the week that scripture wouldn’t leave me. I answered as many questions about the Church as I could, and I made many friends.
“I discovered I was proud of my religion.
“I gave Christopher a Book of Mormon. He later wrote me, telling me he had invited the missionaries to his home.
“I learned not to be embarrassed to share my testimony.”

Taking the sacrament gives me a peaceful feeling and thoughts that convince me I can handle anything life throws at me. Last June, I was having a difficult time in my life. One of my best friends moved away, I was struggling with depression, and I had unrealistic thoughts about body image. One Sunday, I was taking the sacrament, and a flood of peace washed over me. I felt truly happy.
Olivia T., 14, Virginia, USA

During one week, a knowledgeable observer listed some of the crimes reported in a Utah newspaper and then crossed off those where the accused was not a member of the Church. The remaining list provides illustrations of the kinds of sins in which Latter-day Saints are involved:
Fraud
Sale of illegal drugs
Aggravated assault
Aggravated kidnapping
Sexual abuse
A professional having sexual relations with a client
Church disciplinary records make us aware of other serious transgressions rarely reported in the press: adultery, fornication, polygamy, and apostasy.

What an opportunity! Tiffany Stoker of the Clovis Fifth Ward, Fresno California North Stake, has been reigning as America’s Young Woman of the Year, and has been using that position to promote family values and high moral standards.

Everyone who comes in contact with Tiffany, who first won the title of California’s Young Woman of the Year, knows she’s LDS. She’s famous for being an avid journal keeper and for speaking out against drug and alcohol abuse and premarital sex every chance she gets. She’s doing her best to bring morality back into vogue by speaking about it to teenagers all over the country. “What we need is a chastity revolution,” she says.

Tiffany, a seminary graduate, is attending BYU. She wants to go on to study law at Stanford.

I had an interesting experience many years ago as my family and I returned from our mission in Brazil. We had nine children, and the ship we traveled on carried about forty passengers, so we were very conspicuous. It turned out that there were three other ministers on board, and within a few days each of the three approached me and inquired if we could talk about what the Mormons believe. They didn’t seem to be much interested in what each other believed, but they all wanted to know what we believed.
With some hesitation, because I had little experience with ministers of other faiths, I arranged an interview when all four of us could sit down together. It turned out to be very congenial and consisted primarily of them asking questions and me giving the answers. I had supposed that they would come out with strong arguments supported by scriptures that would make it difficult for me to maintain my position. But in their friendly, congenial way they just asked questions, and it turned out that I knew the answer to each question. I hadn’t realized that I was that well informed.
Within a few minutes, as we talked, they began to turn to each other and make comments like, “Isn’t it interesting? He has an answer for any question you can ask.” They repeated that comment over and over again, and we ended our discussion on a very friendly basis.
Two or three days later, however, one of these men engaged me in conversation and said, “I have been thinking of what you told us the other day and I wonder if it is right to know everything. I think maybe you know too much. I don’t believe the Lord wants us to know it all.” I could tell that he was offended. A day or two later he spoke to me again. He said, “I’ve been considering what you told me, and I have come to the conclusion that what you teach is a very dangerous heresy.”
I wasn’t prepared, as I ought to have been, for that kind of comment, and with hurt feelings I asked him why it was that other religions didn’t seem willing to place the Latter-day Saints in the same fellowship with themselves. He turned on me almost in anger and said, “Because I want you to know it is a two-way street.” Then I understood. We do not fellowship them. We do not recognize them as the true church of Jesus Christ, and therefore we offend them in some things we teach. I don’t think it should be otherwise, but he had reason for the feelings that he had. I wasn’t in a position, being unprepared, to smooth his feelings.

Q. Tell us about your conversion and baptism.
A. I went to a dance one night with my miss. As we were dancing, I saw this girl. Later I danced with her and asked where she came from. She told me she was a Mormon from Salt Lake City, and I thought, “Oh, crumb, what have I got here?”
We talked on a while and she made a profound impression on me—it was just the way she talked. She didn’t talk about religion or she didn’t stuff it down my throat, but I could just tell by her words that she had very high standards, and I liked her. She was a student and was only passing through Belfast. She hadn’t even intended to come to Belfast, but for some reason she did and we met.
She went on to tour Europe, and we corresponded. On the way back she stopped in England, and I went over and saw her there for a week. She had a tremendous effect on me, and I started thinking about the Church. After I came back from England, about a month later, the missionaries called. It had nothing to do with her—it just happened that the missionaries called. At the time it seemed so fantastic, but looking back on it, I’m sure it was all meant to be—you know, the way it happened.
The missionaries must have called six times to find me at home. They kept coming back because my mother told them I might be interested in the Church. One missionary had a profound influence on me, too. He was a tremendous character and I really got to like him. Without the girl I wouldn’t have been interested, and if another missionary had contacted me, he might not have reached me. I joined the Church on December 4, 1969, and I was lucky that my missionaries stuck by me. Some get moved on and sort of lose contact with their investigators, and the people fall by. The missionaries stayed with me until I got my feet on the ground, and then I was lucky to make friends in the Church quite quickly and easily.