Gospel Story Finder

As a young missionary I was assigned to a small island of about 700 inhabitants in a remote area of the South Pacific. To me the heat was oppressive, the mosquitoes were terrible, the mud was everywhere, the language was impossible, and the food was—well, “different.”

After a few months our island was struck by a powerful hurricane. The devastation was massive. Crops were ruined, lives were lost, housing was blown away, and the telegraph station—our only link to the outside world—was destroyed. A small government boat normally came every month or two, so we rationed our food to last four or five weeks, hoping the boat would come. But no boat came. Every day we became weaker. There were acts of great kindness, but as the sixth and seventh weeks passed with very little food, our strength slipped noticeably. My native companion, Feki, helped me in every way he could, but as the eighth week commenced, I had no energy. I just sat under the shade of a tree and prayed and read scriptures and spent hours and hours pondering the things of eternity.

The ninth week began with little outward change. However, there was a great inward change. I felt the Lord’s love more deeply than ever before and learned firsthand that His love “is the most desirable above all things … yea, and the most joyous to the soul” (1 Ne. 11:22–23).

I was pretty much skin and bones by now. I remember watching, with deep reverence, my heart beating, my lungs breathing, and thinking what a marvelous body God has created to house our equally marvelous spirit! The thought of a permanent union of these two elements, made possible through the Savior’s love, atoning sacrifice, and Resurrection, was so inspiring and satisfying that any physical discomfort faded into oblivion.

When we understand who God is, who we are, how He loves us, and what His plan is for us, fear evaporates. When we get the tiniest glimpse of these truths, our concern over worldly things vanishes. To think we actually fall for Satan’s lies that power, fame, or wealth is important is truly laughable—or would be were it not so sad.

I learned that just as rockets must overcome the pull of gravity to roar into space, so we must overcome the pull of the world to soar into the eternal realms of understanding and love. I realized my mortal life might end there, but there was no panic. I knew life would continue, and whether here or there didn’t really matter. What did matter was how much love I had in my heart. I knew I needed more! I knew that our joy now and forever is inextricably tied to our capacity to love.

As these thoughts filled and lifted my soul, I gradually became aware of some excited voices. My companion Feki’s eyes were dancing as he said, “Kolipoki, a boat has arrived, and it is full of food. We are saved! Aren’t you excited?” I wasn’t sure, but since the boat had come, that must be God’s answer, so yes, I was happy. Feki gave me some food and said, “Here, eat.” I hesitated. I looked at the food. I looked at Feki. I looked into the sky and closed my eyes.

I felt something very deep. I was grateful my life here would go on as before; still, there was a wistful feeling—a subtle sense of postponement, as when darkness closes the brilliant colors of a perfect sunset and you realize you must wait for another evening to again enjoy such beauty.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to open my eyes, but when I did I realized that God’s love had changed everything. The heat, the mud, the mosquitoes, the people, the language, the food were no longer challenges. Those who had tried to harm me were no longer my enemies. Everyone was my brother or sister. Being filled with God’s love is the most joyous of all things and is worth every cost.

When my wife was a young girl, her grandpa took the grandchildren with him to the farm to put powder on the potatoes to kill the bugs. It was fun doing it together. What’s more, they got to ride the old workhorse after they were finished.
It was fun to help get the cows into the barn so they could be milked. Although the children didn’t do much milking themselves, they watched and heard the milk splatter into the bucket. Sometimes a well-aimed squirt would fill the open mouth of a waiting cat. The children laughed even more when Grandpa squirted the warm milk toward their open mouths, and the giggles increased when he missed and splashed their faces.
The children helped harvest the corn and, when canning started, they helped the adults cut off kernels. Everyone had a feeling of accomplishment and they felt secure just knowing that they were adding to their year’s supply of food.
After the children had helped with the picking and pickling of cucumbers, they received a reward of some large ripe ones to cut open, hollow out, and sail as boats down the ditches.

Hi! My name is Rachael.
Bullying was a problem at my school. My friend Lexi and I decided to challenge the kids in our school to be kind!
How It All Started
When I was in fourth grade, I saw a friend being bullied. I told my teacher, but I didn’t do anything else. I wished I had been brave enough to do something more. My mom said if I prayed, Heavenly Father could help me.
A Prayer and a Phone Call
I went to my bedroom and prayed about it. Just as I said, “Amen,” the phone rang. It was my friend Lexi. She could tell I had been crying. I told her what happened at school and invited her to come over.
The Challenge for Kindness
I decided to make a chart to help me remember to be kinder every day. I called it the “Challenge for Kindness.” Lexi said we should make one for everyone in our class.
Sharing the Challenge
We made a presentation about the challenge and sent it to our teacher. She invited us to present it to our class. I was super nervous, but we did it. Now everyone in our class had their own kindness chart.
Butterflies!
I still wanted to do more, so I sent our presentation to the principal. She asked us to share our challenge with the whole school! Now I really had butterflies. I said a prayer right before the assembly started. Lexi and I took turns talking about why people bully and what to do about it. At the end we both said, “We will make a difference! Together we will stop bullying!”
A Huge Warm Feeling
As I walked back to my seat, I had a huge warm feeling. Heavenly Father comforted me when I felt bad and prompted me to do something that made a difference. It felt good to know I had answered Heavenly Father’s challenge to be kind!

An older brother and sister had been able to attend the University of Utah in Salt Lake City; but since the family was too poor to send another child there, Joseph enrolled at Weber Academy (now Weber State College) near Ogden, Utah. At the Academy Joseph idolized his principal and English teacher, David O. McKay, “a handsome man, straight as an arrow, and a man of great personality” who disciplined his students by his bearing.
His teacher refused to let Joseph’s bashfulness keep him back: more than once he called on the young boy to pray or to write on the blackboard in front of the large class—a task, he recalls, that made him sweat with fright. His days at the Academy under David O. McKay influenced the rest of his life, as he studied English poetry and memorized parts of Sir Walter Scott’s “Lady of the Lake,” a Scottish classic beloved of Principal McKay, who had recently returned from the Scotland mission. Joseph’s love of words and his natural talent at shorthand, learned from a commercial course, later set him on his secretarial career.

When I feel lonely, being kind to myself makes a huge difference. I nourish my mind with positive thoughts because I’ve realized that I am the person who I’m going to spend the rest of my life with! So, I should have a good relationship with myself.
Loneliness will only get worse if we aren’t kind to ourselves.
I treat myself like a friend. I remind myself of who I am and that even though I’m not perfect, I can always repent and keep trying to follow Christ. Elder Gary E. Stevenson recently invited us to “pause as you look at yourself in the mirror. Think to yourself, or say aloud if you like, ‘Wow, look at me! I am amazing! I am a child of God! He knows me! He loves me! I am gifted—gifted with the Holy Ghost as my constant companion!’”4
So, I do. I look in the mirror and tell myself these things. And then I laugh because I feel silly, but I also feel more confident, loved, and connected to the Spirit.
When you are your own friend, you’ll never feel you are without one.

Maxine Grimm stands out in my mind as an honored pioneer. I met her in the Philippines in 1964, when there was only one branch of the Church and fewer than one hundred members. With her husband, Peter Grimm (we called him “Grimm-pa”), this remarkable woman helped unfurl the flag of truth in that beautiful island nation.

Sister Grimm had been a Red Cross volunteer during World War II and had remained in the Philippines after the war to help the new Church members there. I clearly remember her arriving at our small place at 7-D Kamias Road to help us begin the first Relief Society in Quezon City. She would always bring copies of the Relief Society Magazine for the sisters to borrow, as well as her portable pump organ so we could sing the hymns together—all six of us.

Her mother, Sonja, says, “Her father had to miss a lot of Aryn’s activities while she was growing up because of his surgeries and health problems. She played the flute in her high school’s marching band, so he tried his best to go to as many games as he could and enjoyed watching Aryn march in the band.”
Aryn understands that there are some things her father can’t do. “We find ways to work around the disability, such as video recording programs and events that he can’t go to.”

Debbie Lynn Roberts of Carrollton, Georgia, does not waste much time. She’s too busy doing things. This past year she has influenced three friends to join the Church (a cheerleading captain at her school, a friend from band, and a family friend). She’s Laurel president, seminary president and pianist, stake youth committee representative, a class officer at school, first chair mellophone during marching season, first chair flute in concert season, and busy with many other activities. Sounds like she’s been listening to some sound advice to “do it!”

This past July, we were privileged to participate with President Hinckley in the dedication of the Monticello Utah Temple, the first of the new generation of temples that the Lord has directed our prophet to have built closer to the Saints. What a great spiritual experience that was to be among faithful Saints who never expected that a temple would be built in their town. These are people of great faith; some of them are descendants of the Hole-in-the-Rock pioneers who struggled, labored, and sacrificed through many years of toil to establish Zion on the high plateaus of southeastern Utah.

One day I joined my siblings at the table to do our family scripture study. My mom started our Come, Follow Me lesson, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was thinking about something else: Is Jesus really real?
In church and in Primary we learned that He is real, but I didn’t know for myself. I thought and thought, but I couldn’t find the answer.
After scripture study, I asked my mom, “Is Jesus real?”
“Good question,” she said. “How about you pray about it?”
“OK,” I said.
That night I said a prayer and asked, “Heavenly Father, is Your Son real?” Then I felt a really warm feeling inside. I knew God had answered my prayer. After that, I said a thank-you prayer to Heavenly Father for answering me. I know He listens to my prayers and that He will also listen to yours.

History is filled with numerous examples of men and women who wore out their lives in service to others. One such person was Florence Nightingale, the founder of the modern nursing profession. Born in 1820 in Florence, Italy, where her well-to-do parents were temporarily residing, she grew to womanhood in England. A child of privilege, she could easily have spent her life in the mindless pursuit of pleasure. But she felt deeply that God had a mission for her to accomplish. She trained in Germany as a practical nurse and became the superintendent of nurses at a hospital in London. It was not an easy task. Nursing at that time was a profession with little prestige.
In 1854, when war broke out in the Crimea, Florence took a party of nurses to work in the military hospitals in Turkey. When she arrived she found that wounded men were being kept under appalling conditions of filth, degradation, and gross overcrowding.
Blessed with an iron will and unflinching courage, Florence fought the hostility of the medical establishment and the army bureaucracy to obtain supplies needed for proper nursing of desperately wounded soldiers. Prodigious efforts were made to clean the wards and bring to the injured some of the amenities of civilized life. The wounded began to receive nourishing, well-cooked food and the comfort of clean linen. Wounds were dressed regularly, and the men were bathed and given clean clothing.
Florence drove herself hard. She worked 18-hour days, making her rounds through the wards late at night, a lamp in her hand, giving comfort and solace to thousands. She became idolized by the soldiers, who called her “the Lady with the Lamp.” Her unstinting service paid off. In a few months the mortality rate among the wounded fell from more than 40 percent to just over 2 percent.
The justly honored position held by the nursing profession today throughout the world has resulted in no small measure from the example of Florence Nightingale’s extraordinary life of unstinting service. I believe she would have agreed with King Benjamin, who knew that “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).

A: I decided during my time in primary that I would serve a mission! Throughout my youth years I had many spiritual experiences that confirmed that I needed to go tell others about this gospel!
Elder Carter Seeman

For as long as I can remember, every time my mother came back from the temple, she would tell us about the peace she felt there. Throughout my teenage years, we had visited the temple in Johannesburg, South Africa, to do baptisms. Finally the time came for me to receive my endowment just before I left to serve a mission.
We traveled 900 miles (1,400 km) that day to get to the temple, and my mother spent much of the journey telling me about her experiences there. She talked about the things she felt and of her closeness to Heavenly Father. By the time we arrived at the temple, it was getting dark. The sky’s blue color faded into pink, then red, and finally black. The lights came on and lit up the temple’s beautiful white spires. As we walked around the temple in the cold night air, the golden statue of the angel Moroni glistened under a spotlight. The temple grounds were quiet and restful, undisturbed by the buzz of the city.
During the endowment session, I marveled at the incredible beauty of the Creation and the amazing plan of salvation. It made me long to see my Heavenly Father again. Now I understood what my mother had talked about so often—I felt completely at peace, as if I had come home. The session ended, and it was time to leave.
We were staying with my grandparents, and as we drove home with them, we saw that there had been a storm that evening while we were in the temple. I was amazed that I had not heard the thunder, rain, or wind while I was in the temple. In disbelief I stared through the car window at all the damage: electricity poles and trees had fallen down, road surfaces had been broken up or were flooded with water, and a few roofs had been blown off.
As I pondered the events of the evening, words came into my mind as the Spirit spoke to me: “Go to the temple often. It will be a refuge from the storm.”
I have been to the temple several times since then, and every time I go, I leave behind the troubles and difficulties of this stormy world and take shelter in the peace and comfort of my Heavenly Father’s love (see Isa. 4:6; D&C 115:6).

My good friend, Joseph S. Nelson, died a few months ago at age 86. He was a great missionary during his life. He served four missions. He was called to the last at 80 years of age. I’ve been searching the scriptures to find him—and here he is:
“I beheld that the faithful elders of this dispensation, when they depart from mortal life, continue their labors in the preaching of the gospel of repentance and redemption, through the sacrifice of the Only Begotten Son of God, among those who are in darkness and under the bondage of sin in the great world of the spirits of the dead” (D&C 138:57, 12, 16).
I wonder if my good friend Joe Nelson might find my great-grandmother and ensure that she has been taught the wonderful truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ so that she can take advantage of the saving ordinances we have performed in her behalf.
I wonder if my good friend Joe Nelson might find Uncle Orson and teach him the gospel truths that his father would have taught him in mortality had he been here to do so. I hope that he might now have the opportunity to hear the gospel truths that he might have heard if it was not for the one-way ticket he was given that took him away from those who might have helped him.
Please, dear friend Joseph, find them and teach them these precious truths of salvation so that our family might be a forever family. If you do, I will be more grateful than mortals can express.

While swimsuits are the appropriate attire for swimming, they are not generally appropriate for out-of-water activities. A former student of mine related feeling fine and perfectly modest while swimming in a pool at a party. But later, when seated inside the house for a casual supper, she felt uncomfortable and immodest and she wished for something fun to put on as a cover-up. For those after-swim occasions, a cover-up is not only fashionably modest, but it may be needed for warmth or for protection from the sun, sand, or wind. It will also add to your comfort for lunch or for lounging when you are unable to change back into regular clothing. Quick and slide-on simple is the key to clever cover-ups.

“We had to come up with a way to help our children learn how to work,” says Sister Julie B. Beck, newly sustained first counselor in the Young Women general presidency. “We didn’t have a farm, so they couldn’t milk cows. Music was our cow.”
Just as her own three children learned how to work by practicing the piano, Sister Beck learned the joy of work and service by growing up in the middle of 11 children. Born on 29 September 1954 to William Grant and Geraldine Hamblin Bangerter, Sister Beck grew up in Granger, Utah, and in São Paulo, Brazil, where her father was a mission president.

How cheaply some men and women sell their good names! I recall the widely publicized case of a prominent public figure who was arrested for taking an item costing less than five dollars. I do not know whether he was ever convicted in the courts, but his petty misdeed convicted him before the people. In a measure, his foolish act nullified much of the good he had done and was capable of yet doing.

On November 19, 1972, Elder Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), then of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, organized the Santiago Chile Stake, with Carlos Cifuentes as president.
The preparation for the stake showed the character of the Saints in Chile and their willingness to follow the prophets. Elder Hinckley had arrived in Chile several months earlier to organize the stake. But after holding interviews, it was postponed. At that time, many people were going through financial problems, and some members were experiencing difficulty in abiding by the law of tithing.
Elder Hinckley explained, “I returned six months later, and while I was interviewing, I found the blossoming of faith; they were once again walking in honesty before the Lord, the stake was organized, and ever since then they have grown and flourished.”7

A few months ago I fell and cut myself. My mom and dad decided I needed to go to the doctor and get stitches. I was really scared and did not want to go because I knew the doctor was going to give me a shot.
Before we went to the doctor’s office, my dad gave me a blessing. The Holy Ghost comforted us and whispered to us that we should bring the Friend to read while we were waiting.
When we got to the doctor’s office, I was scared. I didn’t want to get stitches. I was crying a little bit. While the nurse was getting the doctor, I started to read from the Friend. It made me feel a lot better. I got six stitches, and it hurt a little, but I wasn’t scared anymore. I’m grateful that we listened to the Holy Ghost and took the Friend with us. I know that the Friend is my friend.Tanner Allred, age 7, with help from his familyLas Vegas, Nevada

17
James Birch, 28, died of diarrhea; buried him on sandy ridge (11 miles)