Gospel Story Finder

Another false philosophy that appeals to the Mr. Hyde side of our natures is that peeking into pornography is harmless. This is a terrible deception. Pornography is as addictive as cocaine or any illegal drug. I recently received a heartbreaking letter from an excommunicated man whose soul is filled with sorrow and regret. With his permission, I quote the following from his letter: “I hope that this letter will confirm to any who have doubt that the path of destruction only reaps sorrow and grief and no sin is worth this price.”

He goes on to state: “I have brought grief and sorrow upon myself. Only now do I fully realize the great destruction that I have brought upon myself. No selfish or lustful desire is worth losing your Church membership for. I have brought terrible grief to my wife and two wonderful children. I am grateful for my wife’s great efforts to help me overcome my sins. My wife has been a victim of my sins and had to endure great sorrow and suffering. I long for the day that I can again be a member of the Lord’s Church and for our family to be an eternal family.”

The letter goes on to admit: “My sins are a direct result of my early childhood addiction to pornography. Without a doubt, pornography is addictive and is poison. Had I learned early in my life to apply the power of self-mastery, I would be a member of the Church today.”

Upon his arrival in the mission field, a new missionary sat with me as we discussed his duties and responsibilities and the discipline they would require of him. As I outlined what was expected of him, he stopped me: “Just a minute, President Backman. There’s something you ought to know. I’m stupid.”

Being determined to demonstrate to him the great capacity for service he possessed as a son of God, and to awaken in him a realization of his unique mission on earth, I assigned him to a senior companion who really worked him hard, pressing him to learn, grow, and serve, despite his professed weakness. In addition, I kept pressuring him to the point that his district leader wrote me in a report that the new missionary intended to punch me in the nose the next time I toured the mission.

Within weeks my wife and I made a final tour of the mission before we were released. I took the opportunity to sit down privately with each missionary so I could express my love and confidence in him. The new missionary’s turn came. I closed the door of the room behind him, removed the glasses I was wearing, and said, “If it will make you feel any better, elder, go right ahead and punch me in the nose.” For a moment, I thought he was going to do what he had threatened to do. Instead, he fell into my arms crying. I then had one of those precious moments when I shared with him my knowledge and understanding of his divine potential and his capacity to love and serve his fellow beings. As we concluded our discussion, I remarked that if he wanted to make me happy, he would come to my office in Salt Lake City in about two years and tell me he had finished his mission.

We had been home from our mission about two years when I looked up from my office desk one morning to see a grinning face peering through the door. It was my missionary. Without any word of greeting , he declared, “President, I finished my mission!”

I was so proud of him!

Our plane landed safely. We observed that there were three or four hundred people at the airstrip. President Strong’s son, Bert, also a stake president, was there and was very delighted to see us back safe. We asked Bert why so many people had collected at the airstrip that evening. He informed us that three Mexicans had gone in a two-motor plane across the jungles and mountains to the Usumacinta River that morning about the time we had flown there. They had not returned and the people of Tuxtla were out waiting for them. Some months later Gareth Lowe wrote informing us that the Mexican plane and its occupants had hit a mountain, and all were killed.

Over on the other side of the camp, teamwork was fully evident as Scouts from the New Orleans Louisiana Stake organized themselves for a firebuilding contest. One team member struck a match as others huddled around to shelter it from the wind. Another Scout raced to a pile of straw to gather fuel, rushed back, and as the initial flame leaped up, carefully nourished it. A string scorched, blackened, untwisted, broke, and a water balloon tumbled down, dousing the fire. “You have to know what each person is going to do before you start,” advised Paul Seager, 15, of the West Bank Ward. “But it feels great when you see what you can do.”

Sabrina, 18, remembers the sister missionaries coming to home evening when she was 10. “They taught me simply but firmly that God reveals truth through prayer. They said I needed to kneel down and ask Heavenly Father in humility to give me a testimony. ‘Me kneel down?’ I thought to myself. A few days later, Mom wanted to go for a walk with my sisters and me. Even though the sun was shining and I wanted to go with them, something stopped me. I knew it was the perfect time. I knelt down in the dining room. I pleaded with Heavenly Father to let me know if the Book of Mormon was true. I asked Him if the principles I was taught in church were true. Five minutes went by. After I ended my prayer I remained on my knees. Suddenly, a ray of light illuminated my face. I could not understand this, because the house was dark. But there was a small window in the kitchen without a curtain, and the light was coming from there.
“I felt so happy. I realized that my Father had answered my prayer in this way. Now I have a testimony of all these things, and I know they are true. I know that prayer has tremendous power.”

In a stake conference only a few days ago, I heard the tender story of an older man who had taken his 1974-model automobile to a garage for repairs. The projected work was more costly than he or the conscientious mechanic had contemplated, and the garage owner wondered if the elderly man really wanted to spend that much on such an old car.
Said the car owner, “Could you take a credit card that isn’t mine?”
“Whose is it?” asked the garage man.
“It is my daughter’s,” the man said. “She wants me to have my automobile in good, safe condition. It is the only thing I have.”
As the son of a father of whom I have no conscious memory, and as a father of loving children, I weep over that. There is no neighbor, after all, closer than the ones in our own families. And in this incident, knowing no more details, one does not get the impression of a casual check written on ample funds, but of a loving daughter very likely sacrificing to preserve the self-esteem and precarious independence of a cherished father.

A friend told of a time when, as a young mother, her five-year-old daughter inquired, "Mom, who shall I marry?"
Although somewhat puzzled by the question coming from such a young child, she thought for a moment and responded, "I believe David is a good boy."
"Mom," questioned the small girl, "Does he know the way to the temple?"
As years passed David did not know the way to the temple and the righteous daughter married a young man who did know the way. She was sealed in the temple, and now continues to keep her precious covenants and eternal perspective.

I still remember a handsome young man with his lovely bride and their two beautiful little girls sitting with me and my missionary companion one day. The Holy Ghost came and testified to them that the gospel of Jesus Christ had been restored. They believed enough that they even asked if we could give their two little girls a blessing, as they had seen done in one of our sacrament meetings. They already had a desire for their children to be blessed, but they did not yet understand that the higher blessings would be possible only in the temples of God after they had made covenants.
I still feel pain to think of that couple and those little girls, probably now grown old, without the promise of an eternal family. Their parents had at least an inkling of the blessings that could be made available to them. My hope is that they somehow, somewhere may yet have the opportunity to qualify to be an eternal family.

In Portugal, in the city of Funchal, lived a lady named Asencao Frango, who had been a nun for twenty years. She ran a home for poor children and orphans. Early in her life as a nun, doctors discovered a cancer in her throat. Having a strong feeling that she had not finished her work on earth, she prayed with great faith and was healed. When her church decided to close the children’s home, she used her own money to keep it going for four years—until the children living there were either adopted or old enough to be on their own.
When she heard of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she and a friend attended out of curiosity. The meeting was held on the dirt floor of a member’s garage. But the spirit she felt there impressed her, and the elders began teaching her the discussions. She read the Book of Mormon, gained a strong testimony of its divinity, and soon asked to be baptized. A year later she obtained her temple recommend and could hardly wait to enter the Swiss Temple to pledge sacred covenants with Heavenly Father.
Many lands in Europe are becoming lands of temples. When President Thomas S. Monson rededicated the land of Germany for the advancement of the work of the Church, he prayed, “Heavenly Father, wilt Thou open up the way that the faithful may be accorded the privilege of going to Thy holy temple, there to receive their holy endowments and to be sealed as families for time and all eternity.”

Reaching the city in September 1855, Barnard found work in Apostle John Taylor’s office, helping publish an LDS newspaper, the Mormon. He received board and room but no pay. Within weeks he saw his English suit become threadbare and too small for his growing teenage body. He needed money. “What shall I do?” he asked Elder Taylor. The Apostle thanked him for his labors, wished him well, and then gave him a special blessing. “You will find work and make more money than you ever have earned before,” he promised the boy, and then added: “In life you will always succeed financially.”
The promise proved true but slow. Barnard’s first job was low-paying, menial, and smelly. How his mother would have pained to see Barnard, his landlady’s laundry basket in hand, walk to the fish market, fill the basket, and then peddle fish throughout the city. But it was a living. Slowly, day by day, his fish turned into American coins that added up.
Just when Barnard calculated he had enough money, 60 dollars, to buy a cart and horse to expand his business, a local Mormon leader called him aside. “The Lord wants you to be a missionary,” Barnard was informed. Loyally the teenager gave up his fish business to be a fisher of men. “Priest White,” as locals called the 15-year-old, filled a good mission during the six months his fish money lasted.

I counted the days on my calendar. Where had summer gone? I could I hardly believe my first day of middle school was only one week away. I felt excited, glad, and scared to death—all at once.
As my friends and I began making plans for school, we each described the new outfits we had picked to wear on the first day, and debated if backpacks or book bags were the “in” thing this year. We joked about keeping our lockers organized, with each book in perfect class sequence.
Together, my friends and I completed a list of items we thought would be important to put into our lockers. A hair brush, a magnetic mirror, and a pencil box were some of the ideas.
Then Karen spoke up. “I’m going to put a picture of the Savior in my locker.” Everyone became silent. Suddenly the brush and mirror didn’t seem quite as important anymore.
When the first day of school finally came, my anxiety grew. I walked through the hallway to locker number 1290 and began turning the black knob to complete my combination.
I unloaded my new pink book bag and filled my locker with notebooks, pencils, and personal belongings. Then I unzipped a small pocket on the side of my bag to remove a three-by-five picture of the Savior. It was a picture I had received in church nearly a year ago. With a magnet, I carefully hung the photo. There it would stay as my continual reminder to always stick up for what I believe in and to “stand for truth and righteousness.”
I called to Karen, who had a locker just a few feet from mine, and motioned for her to come and see what I had done. She looked in my locker and smiled when she saw I had followed her example.
I often hear people talk about peer pressure and how damaging it can be. But when I look at the picture of the Savior hanging in my locker, and notice his picture in many of the lockers of classmates around me, I realize peer pressure can be positive as well as negative.
I can only imagine how much better this world would be if all the youth of the Church would truly take a stand for truth and righteousness. What a powerful group of peers that would make.

In ninth grade, Tami had a friend who was good at everything. Tami’s friend, Sandy, was popular. She ran track and won. Tami joined the track team just to be like Sandy. But Tami never won a race. Usually she came in last. Sandy could tell a joke. And boys liked Sandy.
Just before Christmas, the school announced a writing contest. Tami decided to enter. She spent her evenings writing her poem instead of talking with Sandy on the phone as she usually did. She worried about entering the contest. It wasn’t the kind of thing Sandy would do. Tami didn’t even tell her friend she was doing it. Sandy might laugh, or maybe even make fun of her. But it was thrilling to find how much she liked writing. When the results were announced, Tami’s poem won second place.
Encouraging herself to try something on her own wasn’t easy. But Tami discovered something—deciding for herself what she wanted made her happier than trying to imitate her friends. It gave her strength to make more decisions on her own.
In the next few years, as some of her friends began making choices that were against Tami’s standards, it was easier to make her own choices, even when they were less popular.

Scott and Brodie Te Hira didn’t know that they were being taught about the gospel by their friends—at least, not at first. They just knew they were getting together with friends in the Cairns, Australia, area to participate in a dance program every Friday night. The group performs free of charge for tourists in the area.
In order to participate, dancers must pledge to stay drug and alcohol free. Scott and Brodie liked the spirit they felt among the dancers so well (many of them are LDS) that they started to ask questions. The rest, as they say, is history.
Scott and Brodie aren’t the only ones who have joined the Church as a result of their participation. Sisters Kelly and Lisa Bell, as well as four others, have now joined the Church.

“I went a little farther that time!” Lewis exclaimed, marking where he had landed with a stick. A new house was being built next door, and six-year-old Lewis loved playing in the big piles of dirt. He especially liked to jump off the top of a pile with his brother and see who could go the farthest. Jumping was the next best thing to flying, and Lewis wanted more than anything to be able to fly. Not just to ride in a plane—he’d done that lots of times with his dad in a little four-seat airplane—he wanted to fly like a bird. He thought about it all the time.
Last Sunday, Lewis had been given a lesson in Primary about faith. Sister Jones had said that if you have enough faith, you can do anything—even move mountains! Lewis didn’t want to move a mountain—he wanted to fly over one. He believed that Heavenly Father could help him do that just as easily. Lewis didn’t hear the rest of the lesson that day because he was dreaming about his first flight. He knew exactly how it would be. He would jump off something very high and dive to the earth. Just before he hit the ground, he would pull out of the fall with his arms spread out and glide above the earth, rising higher and higher. He could almost feel the wind in his hair and see the look of surprise on his brother’s face as he flew effortlessly over his head. Yes, it was going to be truly wonderful!
“Lewis,” Mom called from the house.
“Yes, Mom?” he replied from the top of the dirt pile.
“Grandma is here and wants to see you.”
Lewis jumped one more time, marked the spot where he landed, and rushed to the house. “Hi, Grandma. How was your trip?”
“Oh, it was great fun, Lewis. I brought you something.” She held up a small pair of flight attendant wings that she had received on her flight home.
“Wow! Thanks, Grandma!” He had wings! Now he knew he could fly. He pinned them to his shirt and ran outside to the dirt pile. Sure enough, he seemed to jump a little farther and a little higher. The problem, he thought, is that this hill is too small. If I could find something higher, I’m sure I could pull out before I hit the ground.
The next day, Dad took Lewis with him to a construction show. One of the companies there was producing new playground equipment, and Lewis saw the biggest jungle gym he’d ever seen. He grinned. Today was the day he was going to fly!
While his dad was busy talking to some other builders, Lewis pulled the flight attendant wings out of his pocket and pinned them to his shirt, then raced over to the jungle gym. He climbed to the very top bar—about fifteen feet high—and yelled, “Watch this, Dad!” He jumped off, completely unafraid. On the way down, his leg caught on a bar and he crashed to the ground.
Lewis’s leg was broken, and his body was bruised and scratched.
“Are you feeling better now?” Dad asked on the way home from the hospital.
“Dad,” Lewis sobbed, “I don’t understand. In Primary, my teacher said that if I had enough faith, I could do anything.”
“I see. Lewis, you need to understand something about faith. The scriptures say that faith is things which are hoped for which are true. If I believed with all my heart that the oceans are filled with spaghetti, it still wouldn’t be true. Faith in Jesus Christ is true because He really did come and die for us and He really does love you. Faith in the scriptures is true because the Lord really commanded the prophets to write them so we could read them and learn about Jesus Christ. Heavenly Father obeys natural laws, like gravity. Can you see the difference?”
“I guess so.”
Dad continued, “You will be able to fly, Lewis, but on this earth the way you have to do it is by following the natural laws. When you get a little older, you can take flying lessons and get a pilot’s license of your own. Now let’s go home and let that leg heal.”
Today Lewis is grown-up and flies high in the sky as an airline pilot. But he still dreams that the day will come when he will be able to fly through the clouds on his own.

Last month I heard one of the most astounding stories I have ever heard. I sat in an audience as we were electrified by a young juvenile court judge in Los Angeles, whose name was Joseph Sorentino. He has written a book entitled Up from Never. He told us this incredible story. His home in Brooklyn was the scene of three pool halls in four blocks, rampaging street gangs, and Mafia killers. By the time he was twenty he had served time in the reformatory, the jail, the brig, and a padded cell for incorrigibles. He flunked out of school four times, went through thirty jobs, and was booted out of the Marines. That’s quite a record by age twenty. The second oldest of seven children, Joe’s constant desire was to acquire a “rep,” or become known. A dropout with no skills, he turned to professional boxing but then quit when he found that his mind was being eroded by heavyweight poundings.

One night, passing Brooklyn’s Erasmus Hall High School, he noticed a sign that invited passersby to register for night school. At that moment Joe realized, “My only chance for a better life is through education.” He enrolled. He fell in love with learning and graduated with the highest average in the history of the night school. He then enrolled in the University of California at Santa Barbara, became president of the student body, and graduated magna cum laude.

He reenlisted in the Marines to remove another blemish from his record. After an honorable discharge, he entered Harvard Law School, from which he graduated in 1967 as the valedictorian of his class. He said, “You can’t imagine how I felt looking down over the pulpit and seeing Henry Kissinger and some of the Kennedys and other notables of government sitting on the front row, and me delivering the valedictory address.” In this address he recounted the story of his life and then he ended with these words: “Do not look for tragedy or trauma to explain this change. It was mainly a resolution from within.” And then he concluded, “I come here today not just to tell my story, but to emphasize that in America we can make such things possible.”

As a child, I was never taught to read the Bible. I went to church on Sundays, but I contributed nothing and felt nothing in return. I was disillusioned by my religion. I remember having serious arguments with my mother over a metal object called the Santísimo that my parents worshiped. They expected me to worship it as well. I could not. I searched for a better alternative, wanting to find God—wanting to know if He even existed. I thirsted to know Him and His words. But I could not seem to find what I sought.
There were moments when I felt close to quenching my thirst. When I held my first child, a daughter, in my arms for the first time, I had a feeling that God really did exist. Many years later, when her sister was born, I experienced the same feeling. Once I told my cousin that I felt in my heart I was somehow going to become a priest with real authority from God. She said that was impossible because I had a family to take care of.
Most of the time, however, an inexplicable tiredness weighed upon my soul. I was spiritually thirsty and could find no place to drink.
In April 1994 I was living in the city of Monterrey, México, earning a living as a taxi driver. One day it rained for hours, sending water cascading down the mountainsides. After driving around in the rain for hours, I found myself in a little town about eight kilometers from Monterrey. It was about 9:30 P.M., nearly time to go home. Suddenly I saw two young men on foot. They were wearing dark trousers and white shirts, and they were drenched from head to foot.
I opened the door of the taxi and called out, “Get in! I’m going to Monterrey.”
The taller one, who had a very fair complexion, replied, “We don’t have any money.”
“No charge,” I replied.
As I drove, we talked. They asked if they could share a message about Jesus Christ. I agreed and gave them my address.
When I got home, I woke my wife and told her about the two young men. “What a coincidence,” I said. “One is Mexican and the other is American, and they are both named Elder.”
“Elder means missionary,” my wife answered, knowing just a little about the Church.
From deep within me, I felt something stir. These young men had left a feeling of exquisite wonder in my heart. I felt close to finding the water that would quench my thirst.
The missionaries came to our home, and I was happy to listen to them. Two weeks later, I was baptized. My wife was baptized four months later. Our oldest daughter had been receiving religious training at school. When she went to the LDS Church for the first time, she cried, “Papá, this is so much better than what I am learning at school!” She too was baptized.
In December 1995 we were sealed as a family in the México City México Temple for this life and for eternity. Now as a family we enjoy harmony, peace, and happiness. We know whom we worship. We know where we came from and where we are going. We love God’s holy word, especially the Book of Mormon, and we love His Church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Through these gifts we have found that well of living water the Savior spoke of to the woman of Samaria: “Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life” (John 4:14).

Matt’s about to have surgery on his broken arm. Dad and Brother Johnson gave him a priesthood blessing.
Thanks for coming on such short notice, Tyrell.
I’m glad you asked me.
A few hours later—
Is the surgery over already?
Yes, and the doctor says everything went fine. We’ll be able to take you home today.
At school the next week—
Yeah, I was climbing a tree when a branch snapped! I was lucky something stopped my fall.
What was it?
The ground!
Two weeks later at Thanksgiving dinner, Matt tells what he’s grateful for—
… and that my fall wasn’t worse … and that I learned I can do hard things … and for doctors and nurses, and priesthood blessings … and …
I’m grateful that my eating arm wasn’t injured.

Before she found the gospel, A. Munkhsaihan saw the world as a dark place with little hope. Finding faith and hope through the gospel changed the world for her.

In the years before 1990, she taught Russian. But when the political and cultural climate of Mongolia changed, she found that she needed to learn English so she could teach it. Munkhsaihan studied English for a year with Latter-day Saint missionaries. Before listening to the missionary discussions, she determined that she would examine their faith carefully. She found their religion was more than a faith based on true principles—it was a way of life. She was baptized and confirmed in June 2000, and the rest of her family joined the Church a month later. Now she sees the world as a much brighter place for her, her children, and her grandchildren. Currently, she serves as president of the Relief Society in the Ulaanbaatar district.

After the gospel changed her own life, Munkhsaihan wondered what would happen if she applied its principles in her work as a teacher. She began trying consciously to love all her students—and with some that was difficult. She began to pray for her students. Interestingly, she found herself changing; she developed a greater capacity to love them. Even though the students did not know she was praying for them, their attitudes toward her changed as well.

“As we exercise faith in the gospel, we can change ourselves,” she says.

And this, her experience suggests, is how the gospel may change Mongolia. As members change themselves through faith in Jesus Christ, they will change the world around them.

Weston, who is now in law school, shares this experience: “As a freshman at Ricks College, I remember blindly studying for my first exams. I studied everything! Everything! I knew exactly what grade I needed to get on the final. After a grueling week of weeping, wailing, gnashing of teeth, and finals, I came to my last test—American Heritage. Those who have prepared for this final know what wrestling in fervent prayer feels like. Before taking my exam, I decided to say a prayer to calm my anxieties and ask Heavenly Father to help me remember what I had studied. Immediately, I experienced great peace. . . The grade I received wasn’t the crowning part of that particular experience; walking outside of the testing center, I felt an overwhelming spiritual presence of my Heavenly Father. I felt He was watching over me particularly in that moment. A great love and concern for my success, happiness, and well-being enveloped my soul. Every semester since—whether at Ricks College, BYU-Idaho, BYU, and now in law school—I have drawn and still draw on this experience to give me strength in knowing that others beyond this life know me and care for my success. I still begin every test and paper with a prayer for comfort and assurance that I will be able to succeed because I know God listens and will help me.”

As a 16-year-old boy, Glen L. Rudd took between 800 and 900 pounds (360 to 400 kg) of chicken meat to the Pioneer Stake Bishops’ Storehouse in downtown Salt Lake City for his father.
He watched as the heavy delivery was lifted up on the loading dock of the familiar building. He had heard about what went on inside but had never seen it personally. He knew of the circumstances of many families in his stake; most of his friends’ fathers were unemployed because of the Great Depression.
But on that day he saw what was really happening. “I knew we were helping the poor, the people in need,” recalled Elder Rudd, a former member of the Seventy who spent 25 years managing Welfare Square—the outgrowth of that first storehouse.
As a young man, he realized that during the height of the Depression, when almost 70 percent of the men in his stake didn’t have jobs, the Church was offering help. At the storehouse was a coal and wood yard, a furniture workshop, a cannery and sewing center, and food—much of it donated by people like his father, who owned a poultry processing plant.
August 19, 2007, marked the 75th anniversary of the opening of that storehouse, the Church’s first. Today the Church operates 108 storehouses in the United States and Canada and an additional 29 in Latin America. There are storehouses in Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, Paraguay, Peru, Uruguay, and Venezuela.
In addition, the Church runs 285 Employment Resource Centers, 44 Deseret Industries thrift stores, and 100 home storage centers around the world. Church members donated 623,153 days of labor to welfare facilities in 2006, and 239,410 people internationally received training and jobs with the help of Latter-day Saint employment efforts, according to information provided by Welfare Services.
“I have passed this place thousands of times,” said Elder Rudd, speaking of the Church’s first storehouse and its significance. “I have always had great feelings for it. This was the beginning.”
The storehouse began in early 1932, when then-stake president (later 11th President of the Church) Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) and his counselors met with bishops in the Pioneer Stake. “It was decided after a good discussion that they better do something and do it quickly,” Elder Rudd said. “It was decided that they would build a storehouse and learn how to fill it.”
Stake leaders obtained the free use of a building on Pierpont Avenue and volunteers got the facility ready. Members of the Pioneer Stake fasted on the day of the official opening and brought their contributions to the storehouse.
“It was an interesting thing that by the time it was finished, there was enough food and other items contributed to fill the storehouse,” wrote Elder Rudd in a report about the storehouse. “Also, there was a spirit throughout the stake like there had never been before—just plain brotherly love.”
The storehouse, which filled the same function as early tithing offices, operated under the same principles as modern Latter-day Saint storehouses. “Everyone was supposed to work. That was the aim of the Church, to help people help themselves,” Elder Rudd explained.
Elder Rudd said as commodity prices were very low in the 1930s, many farmers were unable to hire any help and most were harvesting what they could and letting the rest spoil. Storehouse officials—including President Lee’s counselor Paul C. Child and storehouse manager, Bishop Jesse M. Drury—assigned Fred J. Heath and other unemployed men to contact the farmers, and many men were sent onto farms along the Wasatch Front and as far away as Idaho to harvest crops that were then shared with the volunteers.
Trucks arrived at the storehouse filled with fruit and other produce. Much of the fruit was canned, Elder Rudd recalled.
He said at one point so many onions (which were donated in abundance) and canned goods were stored in the upper level of the storehouse that the ceiling started to buckle. Props were placed to keep the ceiling from collapsing. Onions were traded for other necessities. The storehouse provided help. No one was ever turned away, he said.
Soon the Salt Lake Stake asked if they could join with the Pioneer Stake storehouse, and four years later they moved the facility to a larger building. Other storehouses were established in the Murray and Liberty Stakes. In addition, employment offices were set up in all six stakes then operating in the Salt Lake Valley.
“[The Pioneer Stake storehouse] became the pattern for all other storehouses,” said Elder Rudd, “including the big storehouses built by the General Welfare Committee in 1938 and 1939, which were located on what has since been known as Welfare Square.”