Gospel Story Finder

“You can’t have two best friends,” Cob Colt said.
“You have to pick between us,” Sorrel said.
Pinto shook his spotted head. “I like both of you. You’re both my best friends.”
The three young horses cropped grass in the warm meadow until their bellies were full. Cob Colt twitched his black tail and looked around at the older horses. It was all very well to eat until you were full, but then what could you do? He thought it would be fun to splatter through the mud puddle and swim in the brook. But that wouldn’t take all day. What else could he do? He thought and thought, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Sorrel twitched her red-brown ears. She heard birds singing in the walnut tree in the middle of the meadow. She stopped chewing and watched the birds chase each other in and out of the branches. We could do that, she thought. We could play tag and hide behind the older horses. She knew that that would be fun, but it would not be a whole day of fun. What else could she do? She thought and thought, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Pinto looked along the fence. Near the driveway was a pile of raked leaves and windfall apples. Windfall apples were sweet and juicy to eat, but Pinto wasn’t hungry—he had just filled his belly with grass. He needed to play before he got hungry again. His mind was so full of windfall apples, though, that he couldn’t think of a game to play.
Cob Colt thought, I can prove I am Pinto’s best friend.I’ll tell him my idea. He’ll like it so much that I’ll be his best friend. So Cob Colt told Pinto, “Let’s splatter through the mud puddle and swim in the brook.”
“That’s a great idea!” Pinto exclaimed.
Cob Colt shook his black mane and waggled his black tail happily. “I’m Pinto’s best friend,” he said. “I thought of what to do.”
Sorrel wasn’t happy at first, but she followed Pinto and Cob Colt to the mud puddles. When she began to splatter mud, she had to admit that Cob Colt’s idea was a good one.
Soon the three horses were covered in mud, then clean again after swimming in the brook.
“Now what shall we do?” Cob Colt asked.
“I’m hungry now,” Pinto said. “Let’s go eat the windfall apples by the fence.”
The three horses galloped across the meadow and feasted on the sweet, juicy apples until they were full. But the day was not yet over. The sun still shone brightly. What could they do now?
Sorrel remembered her idea. “Why don’t we play tag and hide behind the bigger, older horses?”
Sorrel stood behind the walnut tree while the others hid in the meadow. She counted slowly to twenty-five. Then she began to look. It was hard to find a little horse hiding behind a big one. You had to creep around the meadow quietly until you came up right behind them.
Cob Colt wasn’t happy at first, but he ran behind Old Gray. It was hard to stand perfectly still. If the big horse moved, he had to move with it, and that was lots of fun. He had to admit that Sorrel’s idea was a good one.
Pinto, Cob Colt, and Sorrel played tag until the sun set.
“This has been a wonderful day,” Cob Colt said. “I liked playing tag and eating windfall apples.”
“I liked splattering mud and eating windfall apples,” Sorrel said.
“Now do you understand?” Pinto asked them. “We had three good things to do today.”
Cob Colt nodded. “If Sorrel wasn’t here, we would only have splattered mud and eaten. We would have been bored all afternoon.”
Sorrel said, “And if Cob Colt wasn’t here, we would only have eaten and played tag. We would have been bored all morning.”
“That’s why I’m glad I have two best friends,” Pinto said.
Pinto, Cob Colt, and Sorrel ate their dinner under the stars. Each of them was glad that on the next day, there would be two best friends to share it with.

Years ago, I enjoyed being alone and deciding things for myself. I was an introvert and I liked it that way. I considered the people around me to be merely associates because I preferred being alone.
Then one day some family members and I were driving home, and we ended up in a freak accident. After a visit to the hospital for some stitches and X-rays, we headed home. Although our car was totaled, we were grateful to only have minor cuts and bruises.
A couple of weeks later, after trying my hardest to remember how the accident happened, I started thinking. This was my fault. I must have done something wrong. I must have forgotten to do something. My mind was inundated with possibilities like, what if I had died? Was I really ready to leave this world? What if my family had died? Yes, they were sealed together, but I wasn’t sealed to them, what would happen then? I was comforted with the knowledge of our Heavenly Father’s plan of eternal families.
I realized it didn’t necessarily mean I had done something wrong. It just meant that I was looking at the picture the wrong way. I needed to look more closely at my life and recognize the fact that I am still here for a reason. This accident confirmed my love for my family because if I were asked to give my life, I would have easily replied, “Yes, for all my family.”
Why do I feel so strongly? Because I believe in families, that they transcend this life. I understand their worth, as well as my worth in their lives on earth and throughout eternity.
Years later, am I now an extrovert? Absolutely not. Some days, some conversations, some hugs, are better than others. I’m still a work in progress. However, one thing remains the same.
What I believe in is what I want—an eternal family. President Russell M. Nelson shared, “Our family is the focus of our greatest work and joy in this life; so, will it be throughout all eternity.”1 An end result that displays our Savior’s love for us.

At the heart of their celebrating, however, is the remembrance of Jesus Christ, and Finnish members use the season, like mission president Mel Luthy and his family, to live even more fully His teachings. On Christmas Eve in Finland, families often visit the graves of loved ones and leave lighted candles in the snow. An elderly sister, a widow, wished to travel from Helsinki to Porvoo so that she could visit her husband’s grave. She had, however, no means of transportation. The Luthys volunteered to share their holiday with her by driving her to the distant cemetery. It turned out to be a magical night—candles glowed and light danced. All was calm. All was bright.
Christmas had come to Finland!

Joe and Zella Wendel went on a mission. Her legs were bothering her, and they got worse in the mission field instead of better. She wrote home, “I thought we were just to work in the office, but now we find we are to proselyte also. But my knees are so bad we just can’t go out looking for people, so we are praying very hard to find someone right here in our apartment building.” In three months they had three baptisms—new move-ins from their apartment building! Those missionaries were my parents.

I had an experience a few years ago of receiving a call from my son, Lee. He told me that my first missionary companion was in his neighborhood, and he wanted to spend a few minutes with me. Lee and I both went over to the home of my first companion’s daughter, whom he was visiting. We had a special experience of being together after many years of not seeing one another. As missionaries we were given the opportunity of opening up a new town in Ohio to missionary work. Because of this assignment, we were allowed to labor together for 10 months. He was my trainer, my first companion. He came from a family that had taught him the value of hard work. It was difficult for me to keep up with him, but as we served together we drew close together as companions.
Our companionship did not end with the 10-month assignment. World War II was raging, and when I returned home I had only a short time to adjust before I was drafted into military service. On my first Sunday in boot camp, I attended an LDS service. I saw the back of a head that was very familiar to me. It was my first missionary companion. We spent most of the next two and a half years together. Although circumstances were very different for us in military service, we tried to continue the practices of missionary service. As often as we could, we prayed together. When circumstances allowed, we had scripture study together. I recall many companion study sessions under the light of a Coleman lantern in a shrapnel-scarred tent. Several times our reading of the scriptures was interrupted by the sound of an air raid siren. We would quickly turn off our lantern, then kneel together and close our study class with a prayer.
We were both set apart as group leaders, and we again had the opportunity to serve and teach together the glorious gospel of our Lord and Savior. We were more successful in the military than we had been as full-time missionaries. Why? Because we were experienced returned missionaries.
My visit with my first missionary companion was the last opportunity I had to be with him. He was suffering from an incurable disease and died only a few months later. It was a wonderful experience to relive our missions together and then tell about our lives following our missionary service. We recounted our service in bishoprics, high councils, and stake presidencies, and, of course, we bragged about our children and our grandchildren. As we sat and thrilled at the opportunity of being together again, I couldn’t help but think of the account in the 17th chapter of the book of Alma:
“And now it came to pass that as Alma was journeying from the land of Gideon southward, away to the land of Manti, behold, to his astonishment, he met with the sons of Mosiah journeying towards the land of Zarahemla.
“Now these sons of Mosiah were with Alma at the time the angel first appeared unto him; therefore Alma did rejoice exceedingly to see his brethren; and what added more to his joy, they were still his brethren in the Lord; yea, and they had waxed strong in the knowledge of the truth; for they were men of a sound understanding and they had searched the scriptures diligently, that they might know the word of God.
“But this is not all; they had given themselves to much prayer, and fasting; therefore they had the spirit of prophecy, and the spirit of revelation, and when they taught, they taught with power and authority of God” (Alma 17:1–3).
I wish all of you could have an experience similar to the one I had with my first missionary companion, that you could pause and reflect on a time of service when you gave diligently of your time and your talents in building our Father in Heaven’s kingdom. If you try to make it happen, I promise you that it will be one of the thrilling experiences of your life. You are a great army of returned missionaries. Go forward with new zeal and determination, and through your example shine the light of the gospel in this troubled world. This is the Lord’s work in which we are engaged. God lives. Jesus is the Christ. We belong to His Church. This is my witness to you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

In a short amount of time, Ethel successfully recruited over 150 students from the Hawaiian islands. These Students were so anxious and blessed to enroll in a college that was affordable, close by, and most importantly tailored specifically for them by a Prophet of God.

The College began with an opening assembly in the chapel of the Laie First Ward because that was the largest facility they had to accommodate everyone.

“True to prophetic vision, the college was now a reality and the official opening an important event in history. We were pioneers and it was exciting to be involved with The Church College. The faculty and staff were very compatible and the students were wonderful. We had 153 students that first historic year and it has continued to grow.”

Ethel was mindful that our students were tremendously blessed by this institution. She explained how one student, Glen Auna, was so excited to be admitted to this school that he arrived two weeks early, and they didn’t know what to do with him.
Portable buildings were used as dorms and classrooms while the campus was being built by service missionaries until 1958. The girl's dormitory was up on the hill near the temple, and the boys were housed a couple of miles away at Kokololio, or Kekela Beach Park.

To you who may feel discouraged and see your upbringing as perhaps not the best circumstances I say, “shake it off” and put your shoulders to the wheel and commit yourself to Give. My mother passed away when I was only one.
All of my siblings took on the parental role and saw to it that I was nurtured, cared for and loved especially my grandma Fifita. They must have said to themselves:
“I too, Must Give”.
My college parents are here with us today, my brother Saia and his lovely wife Frances I pay tribute to.
They said to themselves, “I too Must Give” so they supported me, then I told them I was going on a mission and I don’t know how they did it but every month, no fail I received a check from them. My success journey in life is due to the many strong shoulders I stand upon.

Long years ago a severe drought struck the Salt Lake Valley. The commodities at the storehouse on Welfare Square had not been their usual quality, nor were they found in abundance. Many products were missing, especially fresh fruit. As a young bishop, worrying about the needs of the many widows in my ward, I said a prayer one evening that is especially sacred to me. I pleaded that these widows, who were among the finest women I knew in mortality and whose needs were simple and conservative, had no resources on which they might rely.
The next morning I received a call from a ward member, a proprietor of a produce business situated in our ward. “Bishop,” he said, “I would like to send a semitrailer filled with oranges, grapefruit, and bananas to the bishops’ storehouse to be given to those in need. Could you make arrangements?” Could I make arrangements! The storehouse was alerted, and then each bishop was telephoned and the entire shipment distributed.
The wife of that generous businessman became a widow herself. I know the decision her husband and she made brought her sweet memories and comforting peace to her soul.

They had left him! Derek stood in the driveway with his shiny black Sunday shoes in his hands. He had been digging the shoes out of the bottom of his closet when he heard the car’s engine starting. Bounding down the stairs, Derek only caught a glimpse of the family van as it turned the corner.
Derek was sure that his family hadn’t left him on purpose. Mom probably thought he was in the backseat of the van. A lonely, empty feeling filled Derek’s stomach. What was he supposed to do now?
Sitting down in the middle of the driveway, Derek pulled on his socks and shoes. If his family had forgotten him, he would just walk to church by himself. It was a warm day, and he was pretty sure he knew the way.
He started confidently down the street. He walked past the Garretts’ house, past the tree house in the willow where he played after kindergarten, and past the Petersons’ house. He was about to turn the corner when a sudden thought came to him: he needed to go back to the house.
Derek stopped mid-step. That was silly. Why should he go back? He stood silently on the deserted sidewalk, thinking about what to do next. He took another step down the street.
The thought came again, this time stronger. “Go back to the house!” He turned and ran as fast as his feet would carry him back to the house. He ran past the Petersons’, past the tree house, and past the Garretts’, his Sunday shoes pounding loudly on the sidewalk. He ran through the front door and slammed it shut behind him. Out of breath and filled with panic, he slumped down in the corner of the family room behind the couch and curled up tightly in a ball. He could hear his heart pounding loudly in his chest. He shut his eyes tightly and murmured a short prayer. “Please help my family to come find me soon!”
As soon as he had finished saying the words, he heard the front door open. “Derek?” someone called. Derek peeked over the couch. His older sister, Amanda, was standing in the doorway. “Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed when she saw the top of his head. Derek ran to her, threw his arms around her legs and started to cry. Amanda knelt down to give him a hug.
“Oh, Bud,” she said softly. “It’s OK. You know we wouldn’t ever really forget you.”
Derek nodded through his tears. “I started to walk to church, but then I heard something telling me to go back to the house. Then I said a prayer, and you came back.”
“Good job!” Amanda said. “You must have been following the promptings of the Holy Ghost!” Derek was surprised. Was that who the thoughts had come from?
Amanda continued, “I’m glad you came back because it helped me to find you quickly. What if you had walked a different way than I came home, or if you had gotten lost? You made the right choice.”
Derek smiled at his big sister. A warm feeling started in his heart and filled him up inside. “Thank you, Amanda,” he said. “I’m glad that I listened to the Spirit.”

After I completed my master’s degree at BYU, I accepted employment as a staff engineer at the University of Utah. The work was exciting and fast paced. Amber and I were enjoying life. Our finances were suddenly much improved. We were working on starting our family, and we were serving in the Church in new and more responsible ways. Everything was going great for us.

Leading up to this time, I had thought a lot about pursuing a doctoral degree. Over time, however, because I was enjoying work and life was going so well, my commitment to pursue additional education had begun to fade. I had not made a decision one way or the other and had simply let other things take precedence. By not making a conscious effort to prayerfully consider my future, I was in essence letting life’s circumstances decide for me. In a sense, I was not acting but rather was being acted upon.

One afternoon, after I had been working for almost a year, I received a phone call in my office from Professor Joseph C. Free. Joe, whom I called Dr. Free back then, was a professor in the BYU Mechanical Engineering Department. He had taken an interest in me as an undergraduate student and had later served as my graduate advisor. He was a trusted mentor and friend with whom I had talked quite a lot about graduate school.

We caught up a bit on what had been going on in our lives, and after some conversation he asked me how my PhD plans were shaping up. I shared with him how well things were going for me at work and in life generally. I told him that Amber was expecting our first child and that I thought I would stay put where I was.

In response, he expressed his happiness that things were going so well for me, and then he said something that I will never forget. He said, “I am disappointed that you aren’t going forward with your plans for a PhD.”

Not a lot more was said, and we wrapped up our call together. I was not surprised by Joe’s comment, and initially I did not think too much about it. But his words stuck in my mind for weeks, and I eventually concluded that I needed to prayerfully consider my future and seek the guidance of the Spirit.

Amber and I did pray, and together we decided that more school was the right thing for us and that sooner was better than later. About nine months later, on a hot summer evening, we drove west out of Salt Lake City into the setting sun with our twin baby girls strapped in their car seats to begin six of the most challenging, fulfilling, and fun years of our lives.

This story has a nice ending. About seven years after Joe’s phone call to me, I accepted employment as a professor here at BYU. I was hired into Joe’s position and began to teach the classes he had once taught. Interestingly, the phone number that he had once called me from became, and is to this day, my phone number.

I've sometimes been asked by people of other faiths, why is it that so many LDS families seem to thrive, even in this age of family decline? We clearly have our share of troubled homes. But they still ask, "How do you explain the amazing confidence in marriage and family life that I see in the Mormons I know?" A law professor from Tokyo visited the U.S. to explore his concerns about the damaging effect of American culture on Japanese family commitments. He told me that the two most corrosive forces in his culture are the immorality in American TV and movies, and the self-centeredness of American law. He said, "You beat Japan in the second world war. Do you have to inflict your movies and your laws on us too?"

Then, after he'd been on the BYU-Provo campus several days, mixing in the dorms with students, this professor said, "You must tell me about these students and their families. This campus is an island of hope in the land of the apocalypse. What is the secret behind all the shining eyes?"

Recently, I approached the reception desk of a large hospital to learn the room number of a patient I had come to visit. This hospital, like almost every other in the land, was undergoing a massive expansion. Behind the desk where the receptionist sat was a magnificent plaque which bore an inscription of thanks to donors who had made possible the expansion. The name of each donor who had contributed $100,000 appeared in a flowing script, etched on an individual brass placard suspended from the main plaque by a glittering chain.
The names of the benefactors were well known. Captains of commerce, giants of industry, professors of learning—all were there. I felt gratitude for their charitable benevolence. Then my eyes rested on a brass placard which was different—it contained no name. One word, and one word only, was inscribed: “Anonymous.” I smiled and wondered who the unnamed contributor could have been. Surely he or she experienced a quiet joy unknown to any other.

Attending sacrament meeting for the first time was strange for Cesar. It wasn’t anything like the meetings he was accustomed to.
“There was a man carrying the sacrament trays. He was very busy fixing the microphone and saying hello to everyone. There were so many people there that I wondered if they would all fit in the church! It seemed funny that the man fixing the microphone was the bishop.
“It was also a change to be in church for three hours; that seemed like a long time. I still remember that first Sunday School class. We talked about the birth of Jesus Christ, and I asked a lot of questions. After class, Betty’s brother, Isaac, helped me find the missionaries. I didn’t go to priesthood meeting that day; instead, I had my first discussion with the missionaries.”

An amazing event occurred in 1976. Alex Hailey, the eminent biographer, stirred the hearts and souls of people all over the world with his publication of Roots. He successfully plodded back through his African slave ancestry pulling together family verbal history, slave shipping records, and personal spiritual experiences that ignited an interest in family research before unheard of.

Roots became the best seller in United States publishing history. Translated into 30 languages, it sold 6 million copies. A year later, it was televised in a 7-night mini-series that reached 130 million viewers, the greatest program audience in television history at that time. It has continued to air on cable stations. According to an article in the Congressional Quarterly, Alex Hailey’s Roots is the primary cause of the worldwide surge in interest in Family History, making it the second-most popular hobby today. You may recall Mr. Hailey’s moving statement:

In all of us there is a hunger, marrow deep, to know our heritage…to know who we are and where we came from. Without this enriching knowledge, there is a hollow yearning.

A few months before his untimely death, as the Executive Director of the Church Family History Department, I was a guest at Mr. Hailey’s farm in Norris, Tennessee. As we visited, I asked, “Alex, do you have any idea how much impact you and your book have had on the people of the world?”

He answered, “I think so.”

I said, “I haven’t been involved in Family History Administration too many years, but it seems to me there is an invisible hand guiding this work, bringing people like you and scientific developments and special events together toward a pre-determined course.”

He slammed his fist on his knee and said, “That’s right! I felt the guiding hand of the Lord.”

When I was 15, I was invited to live with a Latter-day Saint family. Their daughter, slightly older than I, took me to Mutual. Everyone there welcomed me and paid attention to me. For the first time in my young life, people treated me with love and kindness.
I was introduced to the missionaries, who began teaching me. Soon I realized that I had a loving Heavenly Father, who had protected me throughout my life. I accepted the gospel and was baptized on Christmas Eve 1978. That evening I received my first and still most cherished Christmas gift: membership in the Lord’s Church.

But changing colors is not the only unusual feat performed by octopuses. Since they have no bones, they can also dramatically change their shape and squeeze through extremely small openings. The story is told of a naturalist who caught an octopus about a foot long. He put it in a wicker basket and went for a ride on the streetcar with it. About ten minutes later there came a bloodcurdling scream from the other end of the car. Sure enough, the octopus had squeezed through a half-inch crack in the basket and was now sitting on the lap of a hysterical passenger.

Watch out for Apii’s feet!
With one well-placed kick, she could knock you over.

But Apii’s feet are only dangerous when she’s competing. In everyday life, Tereapii Rota, 16, of Tokorua, New Zealand, is a bright girl who serves her school as the representative to the board of trustees. But in her free time, she and her brother are trained by their father in the fine art of defense. She is so good at it that she won the junior women’s national championship in Tae Kwon Do. She was surprised by her success since it was the first time she had seriously competed.

Apii is the oldest of six children, and she and her ten-year-old brother are the most serious about training with their father. They belong to a sports club, but Apii often trains with the boys because there aren’t many women good enough to challenge her.
Although Apii is good at a rather unusual sport, her best friends are the other Laurels in her ward. “The four of us Laurels are very close. We do everything together. It’s good to have great friends,” says Apii. “We have heaps of laughs. We don’t see everything as real serious.”
Laughing a little at life has made it easier for Apii and her friends to resist the temptations that come to 16-year-olds. “I suppose the hardest thing about being 16,” says Apii, “is saying no to other people. Someone asks you to a birthday party or on a trip. Mom and Dad know what’s likely to happen. So you just have to say no. Then these people try to talk you into it. You still have to say no.” But Apii and her friends have so much fun without doing anything against the standards of the Church that it is easier for them to resist being talked into going to parties they know they shouldn’t go to.
The fact that Apii is alive is part of the reason her family joined the Church. When she was eight, she was desperately ill with asthma. Missionaries gave her a blessing, and she was healed literally moments later. “I was really weak,” says Apii. “I hadn’t been able to eat or drink. As soon as the missionaries said amen I was all right. I opened my eyes and asked for something to drink. Everybody sort of laughed they were so relieved.”
Apii has plans to go to university and study business.
In the meantime, watch out for Apii’s flying feet.

Maybe we don’t know a widow whose home needs paint or a new neighbor on our street. But promptings will come, encouraging us to do something good for someone. When we lived in Idaho, we enjoyed doing little things for “Uncle Joe,” the ward’s favorite pioneer. After we moved, we remembered him occasionally and thought that we really should write a letter to brighten “Uncle Joe’s” day. The idea began pressing on my mind, and finally we mailed a note to him. But it was too late. Only one day later we received word that “Uncle Joe” had passed away. An opportunity for service had slipped by because we had ignored a first impulse.

One day the senior missionaries, Elder and Sister Haines, came to my house. Elder Haines needed my help. He can read German words but does not understand what some of them mean. He found a story in the Kleiner Liahona (Friend) and read it to me in German. I translated it into English for him so he would know what he was reading. We were a good team!
Even though he doesn’t think so, Elder Haines reads German pretty well. Only once did I have to say to him, “I have no idea what you said.” After my mother helped him with his German pronunciation, I understood him better.
I felt like a real teacher when I translated for Elder Haines. He said he felt sure he could bless the sacrament in German thanks to my help. It made me feel warm and good inside that I could help a missionary.

Some years ago, my colleagues and I left Calabar to attend a funeral at a distant local government area. Hours later, in the night, I observed some form of discomfort amongst my colleagues who had the intention to be unfaithful to their wives. I was sitting right on their way, preventing them from achieving their plans in secret. I had positioned myself, unknowingly, at the only entrance to the hotel. After enduring for over four hours with no sign of my leaving the position, one of them walked up to me and asked me to go have some rest in my room. When I replied that I wasn’t feeling asleep and would remain awake for a long period, he sorrowfully walked away through the entrance door only to return in company of strange women. As he walked past me, I felt how his life would have been different if he had the blessings of making and keeping temple covenants. I testify that he would have done things differently to honor his temple covenant. He would have been armed with the power of righteousness. He would have remembered sitting next to his wife in the temple. He would certainly have remembered the promises he made to Eternal Father to strive to keep His covenants and honor his body as the sacred temple of God.