Gospel Story Finder

When they were engaged, Sonia Lopreiato Piros and Gabriel Piros of São Paulo, Brazil, talked about the decisions they would have to make when their children were born. But after one year of marriage and the birth of their first child, “everything that was once so simple in theory turned out to be complicated to practice,” Sister Piros says. “We faced the moment of decision, and fear invaded our hearts. My husband was afraid he would not earn enough to provide for our needs, and I was afraid to end my promising career.”
Brother and Sister Piros began reviewing the Eternal Marriage Student Manual (item no. 35311) and attending institute classes together. They felt certain the right decision was the one they had made before they were married—that Sister Piros would set aside her career for now, even though both knew it would not be easy for Brother Piros to provide for the family’s needs.
“We exercised our faith, and as the scripture said, we proved the word of God,” she says (see 2 Ne. 11:3). The couple began to experience many blessings as a result of their sacrifice, including Brother Piros’s professional growth.
“We still face some challenges and fears, but we are certain that God will be there at our side and that He will answer our prayers,” Sister Piros says.

When I lived in Virginia, I served in the Young Women. We had an exceptional group of youth. One of them, Lucy, had moved with her family to the United States from Kenya.
Lucy had, on this one occasion, gathered up the youth in the ward and enough parents and leaders to provide rides to attend the monthly tri-stake dance. At the dance, as I was watching the youth, a high councilor from the host stake stopped by to visit. As we were visiting, he pointed to a young man, sitting on the side of the dance floor with his head in his hands. That priesthood leader was the home teacher of the young man and he shared his story with me. After he left, I was determined to help the young man, so I moved toward the youth from my ward to bring the young man to their attention. Before I could get there, out from the group emerged Lucy, and walking halfway across the cultural hall, she came up to the young man, tapped him on the shoulder, and asked him to dance. He seemed startled for a bit, but got to his feet and went to dance. I watched that young man all night and never again was he sitting by himself on the sidelines.
But let me tell you the rest of the story. His home teacher told me that he had been in a serious accident and had been in a coma for several months. He had only recently recovered, but was still struggling, in the words of the home teacher, to "come out of his cave" socially. The home teacher knew that his parents had forced him to come to the dance to try to help him in his recovery. And what did lovely Lucy do? She looked, saw someone isolated and not participating, and reached out across the distance to include him. Could I have imagined I would be in such a place to see this precious gift?
I wrote an email message to Lucy to ask her permission to use this story and to get her picture. She replied to me this morning and said she didn't know about this story. Of course she didn't know the story about the young man; she just asked from her heart because she has a compassionate heart. Lucy graduated last week from Southern Virginia University.

Challenges abounded in the mission, but so did treasured moments of spiritual refreshment and affirmation. For example, I was deeply moved as I attended church meetings in Vyborg on the first Sunday of my mission. Since 1963 I had visited Russia fairly frequently. In my heart I had felt that the restored gospel would be shared with this deserving people whom I had come to love dearly, but in my mind I could not imagine how our Church could ever be established with that country’s government and ruling party so opposed to religion.
On that day early in July 1990, I walked into a small music school and was greeted by two legendary missionaries and by nearly two dozen recently baptized members of the Church.
Before my sacrament meeting talk, six little girls, from about three to nine years of age, sang in Russian “I Am a Child of God.” The singing was angelic, as were, especially, their radiant, broadly smiling faces. As I watched and listened in awe, my heart filled with “hosannahs” for the blessing of this long-awaited day.
Further, I recall with delight the words of a relatively new Saratov member teaching a priesthood lesson on the importance of the family. The lesson was fairly standard, except for a few moments when he soared in spirit as he related experiences from his own family. He spoke of his young, grade-school son who had returned from school one day with a bruised face. His son had objected when a bully was tormenting a girl classmate. For his trouble, the young member of the Church had been hit very hard. His classmates saw what happened and ran up to him, offering to join him in teaching the tormentor a lesson. But the boy replied that he had been reading the Bible and attending a church where he was taught not to do mean things, even to those who do mean things to you. His friends were dumbfounded, as, especially, was the father, who generally had followed a different, far harsher ethic all his life, and who that day personally experienced Jesus’ teachings powerfully and deeply for the first time.

Several years ago as I began my career with a large corporation, I heard rumors here and there about the padded expense accounts and white collar pilfering, but had no concrete evidence to make accusations. Corporate headquarters had their own suspicions and called for an audit unbeknownst to the managers and sales staff. For the next few months, they carefully perused our reports, files, expense accounts, hotel receipts and even restaurant tabs, verifying with customers and other establishments each and every detail of their employee's expenditures. Pursuant to their findings, a meeting was called for managers and sales representatives from all over the nation. The meeting convened, individuals were interviewed, evidence was presented and the punishments given. Some were fined large sums of money while others lost their bonuses or were demoted. I remember sitting there in a numbed state of disbelief for my colleagues and friends, but felt an inner peace. Toward the end of this "Corporate Courtroom," very few were found to be in total compliance with company accounting practices. One was me! Those who were aware of my religion even presented me with the "Donny Osmond Good Guy Award" to bring a lighter moment to the austere occasion. In the elevator as we were leaving, one man who had been found guilty, looked at me somberly and said: "What I wouldn't give to be in your shoes." I don't know when I have been more grateful for the teachings of the gospel and the courage to live them.

“Choo, choo. Here comes the train!” Luke drove the big black train across the floor and put it in the matching spot on the puzzle board.
“Vroom. This car goes fast!” James raced the police car to the puzzle board.
“Beep, beep. Watch out for the school bus!” Luke said.
James picked up an airplane and flew it toward the puzzle board. “Incoming!”
Uh-oh. Only one puzzle piece was left. What could Luke do?
Luke picked up the fire truck and held it out to James. “Let’s do the fire truck together,” he said. Luke and James made siren sounds as they finished the puzzle together.

A few years ago, I was called to serve in a YSA ward here on campus. It was an unexpected calling, and I was sure the Lord needed someone better than me to serve His young single adults of the Church.

As I sat with the stake presidency for my visit that day, I was asked if I would be willing to shave my mustache to qualify to serve. I was not excited to hear that question. I didn’t want to shave my mustache. I had had a mustache for my whole life since returning from my mission. It was like my trademark. My wife and children had never known me without it.

That night I wrestled with the choice before me. I could just keep my mustache and tell them I was good with being in my home ward calling. I could just keep it and see what happened. Or I could do as asked and shave it off. It was a real dilemma in my mind.

At some time in the night I heard the words of the Primary song in my mind, “Sh, be still.” So, I did. I decided to stop wrestling with the decision and worry about it the next day. Later that night as I was not worrying about the dilemma I had been wrestling with, the Spirit touched my heart and whispered in my mind, “Would you miss all the blessings that can be yours—for a mustache?”

Over the next few months, I served as a ward clerk, then a high councilor, and just a year ago was called as a bishop. As I have served in the YSA wards, I have seen blessings so abundant I cannot even list them. Without having taken the time to be still, I may not have been prepared to receive the answer I got that night. That answer prepared me for the time that I would be needed to serve the Lord in the capacity of bishop. Even though I still miss my mustache, I have seen miracles take place in some of your lives because of the opportunity I took to hear Him.

Another returned missionary, Bishop Fortunate Chitiyo from Nketa Second Ward, Nkulumane Zimbabwe Stake shares his and his dear wife’s mountain experience: “When our dear daughter Amalia Chitiyo was born, she had bilateral clubfoot” (a birth defect in which the foot is twisted out of shape or position). The Chitiyos couldn’t afford the funds for treatment and the special shoes which were recommended for their daughter. Bishop Chitiyo said, “During this process we prayed and fasted continuously and pleaded with God to heal our daughter and remove this mountain according to His will”.
After several months, the Chitiyos’s daughter was miraculously healed. Bishop and Sister Chitiyo testified of this healing experience: “This [experience] increased our faith and through it all we testify with the prophet of God, President Russell M. Nelson that the Lord loves effort! Truly, faith is the power that enables the unlikely to accomplish the impossible. The healing of our daughter did not happen according to our timing and in the manner we expected, but according to God’s timing and in His own way.”

The first time I paid tithing, the amount was five cents. With my father, I went to the office of the bishop, who solemnly accepted my five pennies and wrote out the receipt. Then he stood and, coming from behind his desk, sat next to me. With his hand on my shoulder, he gave me the small but significant slip of paper and said, “Ronald, you have made a good beginning, and if you continue as you have begun, you can be a perfect tithe payer.” The idea of being perfect at anything seemed well beyond my ability. I was trying hard just to be a good boy. But with those words, the bishop inspired me to strive for perfection in that one basic aspect of the gospel. The blessings, both temporal and spiritual, have been abundant.

“OK,” our mom said, “it’s finally time to remodel your bedroom, girls.” My sister Shannara and I were so excited! We had been waiting a long time to fix up our room. Our mom told us we could do anything we wanted. Then my sister, who is almost a Mia Maid, said, “How about if we do a Young Women theme?” As soon as she said it, we knew that was what we wanted.
We painted all of the walls and even the ceiling. We chose a beautiful blue color for the walls. My dad added crown molding and put up new blinds. The best part was the frames we made to hold the Young Women values, each represented in their value color. We hung them on the wall with ribbon and crystal drawer knobs. Finally, we put up a mirror and a big picture of the Sacramento California Temple. Just under the temple picture we put a picture of my sister and me when we were small, wearing my mom’s wedding dress.
We love everything about our room. I like knowing that we could work hard and make something beautiful. But more than that, I love how I feel when I am in there. It is so calm and peaceful, and I like to look around and see everything that is important to me. I’m glad I have a wonderful new room, but I’m even more glad for the values that make both my room and my life beautiful.

Embarking on my education with BYU-Pathway Worldwide presented daunting challenges—power outages and unreliable internet connectivity which threatened to derail my academic pursuits, threatening my ability to complete the one-year PathwayConnect program. Despite my fears, I persevered, relying on prayer and faith. Miraculously, I witnessed divine intervention, which bolstered my confidence as an online student. A job opportunity, facilitated by a friend, provided the means to provide backup electricity and secure reliable Wi-Fi. It felt like a miracle! With these basic necessities restored, I felt a renewed sense of hope and determination to pursue my educational goals. However, my journey was far from smooth sailing.
Upon graduation from PathwayConnect, acceptance into BYU-Idaho’s online bachelor’s program brought renewed concerns. The unexpected loss of my job caused some financial hardship, which left me with no means to afford tuition and essential course materials. Depleted savings increased my worries, yet I knew that quitting school was not an option. As President Dieter. F. Uchtdorf once said, “For members of the Church, education is not merely a good idea—it’s a commandment”.
Amidst fervent prayers and contemplation, I saw a post on LinkedIn by Matt Richards, who works at BYU-Pathway. He talked about the Hall Foundation Scholarship. It was like an answer to my prayers! This scholarship helped me pay for school and books, so I could keep studying. Its promise of financial support was a lifeline in my time of need. Securing the scholarship eased the burden of tuition and expenses, allowing me to focus on my academic pursuits. Even when things seemed tough, I learned to trust that help would come when I needed it most. With faith and help from above, I’m about to graduate. It’s been a journey full of ups and downs, but I know I’m not alone. There are miracles all around us, if we just keep believing.

Silverio was standing in the toy aisle when his Mom called him. “Sí, mamá?” He walked over to her.
“Could you please take this eye shadow to the cashier and ask how much it costs? And ask if it comes in green, please,” she said in Spanish.
“Oh, sure.” Silverio picked up the eye shadow, looked at it for a second, and then hid it in his hand. He didn’t want to be seen carrying makeup around the store.
Even though his family had been in the United States for most of Silverio’s life, Mom still had a hard time with English. She tried to learn, but sometimes the words wouldn’t come out. Sometimes Silverio wished he didn’t have to help her.
When Silverio reached the cashier, he held out the eye shadow. “Excuse me, ma’am, how much is this?” he mumbled.
The cashier stared down at him. “You want to buy eye shadow?”
Silverio pointed to his mom standing a few feet away and said quickly, “It’s for my mom.”
The cashier scanned the price. “Six dollars,” she said.
“Thanks. And … does it come in green?” Silverio felt his face turn red.
While the cashier typed into her computer, Silverio looked to check if anyone was watching him. The coast was clear. “Nope, only blue and purple.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Silverio hurried back to Mom and dropped the eye shadow in the cart without looking at her. “Séis dólares, y no la tienen en verde.”
“Gracias, Silverio. Is everything OK?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. No pasa nada. I’m fine.”
When they got home, Silverio went right to his room and sat on his bed. Interpreting for Mom was so embarrassing! Maybe he should tell Mom he wouldn’t do it anymore. He slumped down on his bed and sighed. No, he couldn’t do that to her. She worked so hard, and he didn’t want to let her down.
“Silverio, ven aquí por favor,” Mom called.
“Coming,” he called back.
Mom was at the table looking at old pictures of her family. “I just wanted to tell you thank you,” she said in Spanish. “I’m really grateful you interpret for me. I know it’s not easy, and might be embarrassing, but it means a lot to me.”
Silverio stared at the pattern on the rug. “Well … you do a lot for me, and I’m grateful too. You’re my mom, and I love you.” He gave a small smile.
Mom smiled back. “I love you too,” she said. “Let me share with you a scripture I like to read when I’m worried about what other people are thinking of me.”
She pulled their Santa Biblia from the shelf, turned to Colossians 3:23–24, and read from it. “And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ.”
Silverio looked at the Bible and reread the words. “So whenever I help people, I’m serving Christ?”
Mom smiled. “Exacto!”

Several years ago our family was serving a mission in England. Ed was the president of the England London South Mission. Our three youngest children accompanied us. After our first year in England, our son Cory returned to Provo to finish his senior year in high school. Cory's life was taken in a car accident shortly after he returned home. We were given permission to return to Provo for Cory's funeral, then we returned immediately to England and our mission responsibilities.

It was a difficult time. I missed everyone in our family. A few weeks after our return to England we received a letter from our daughter Kelly. She had included pictures of her children. It was so good to see their faces. I paused at that moment and offered a silent plea, "Heavenly Father, I wish you could send me a picture of Cory." In the next few days a letter arrived at the mission home from a young man from our ward. He had befriended Cory during Cory's year in England. He explained that he had felt a strong impression that he needed to write and tell us what a good influence Cory had been to him. He told of his recent desire to serve a mission because of Cory's example. It was a tender letter and touched my heart. I thanked Heavenly Father for sending me such a beautiful picture of Cory.

One son bought a small home in a distant state. He showed me bricks on a corner of the foundation that were eroding away. He asked what should he do.
I did not know, but I asked, “Is there an older couple that lives close to you?”
“Yes,” he said, “across the street and down a few houses is a retired couple.”
“Why don’t you ask him to come over and look at that. He knows your climate.”
That was done, and he got the advice of an older man who had seen problems like that and many others. That is what adopted grandpas can do.

Now, whether I saw them or not, there were always sharks in the water. The first time that I realized that a shark was in the water with me was in Hanalei Bay on the island of Kauai. We had been working for two days, and on the third day, I saw it swimming nearby. It was only three to four feet long, but for a first timer seeing a shark, it could have been fourteen feet long. I immediately swam to the captain. I didn't even realize that I had instinctively climbed into the boat. The captain nearly exploded seeing me there. He yelled so loud for me to jump back in the water that I wasn't sure what was scarier, the shark or the captain. The next day was Sunday, and our captain kept the Sabbath day holy. I stayed in my cabin and had my personal sacrament service. I was the main speaker, and there was even a special soloist. The rest of the crew, who were not members of the Church, swam out to Hanalei town for the day. I had considered all day after seeing the shark about giving up this whole capital adventure. Was earning money for my mission worth the risk? I decided to talk to the captain. As I sat with the captain, ready to tell him that I was going to swim to the airport, I confided in him that I was terrified of sharks, and then I felt inspired to ask him to give me a priesthood blessing. In the blessing, he told me that I had a mission to perform and that I would need all my limbs to perform my mission. He then promised me that not a hair of my head would be damaged from working on the boat and that I would serve with all my fingers and toes intact. During the ensuing months, there wasn't a time when there wasn't a shark in the water with me. I had some pretty close calls. By close, I mean that while I was working, a shark swam just inches away from my nose. I am happy to report that I stand before you today with all my fingers and toes. I pray that you and I will always courageously rely on priesthood power.

Sister Kapp: Do you have a favorite scripture, Gail?
Gail: Yes. One that has really helped me is found in the Book of Mormon in Mosiah 4:27. It talks about man not having the need to run faster than he has strength, but that if he will be diligent, all things will come to him. That scripture helps me because I’ve always been really busy.
A specific incident with that scripture happened just a very little while ago. I was preparing to compete in a big speech tournament and was facing college entrance exams. I’d just been called to serve on our seminary council and was worried about responsibilities there. I also have one brother and six sisters whom I really care about, and I wanted to spend time with them. I read through that scripture and others like it which said that all I needed to do was to set a pace for myself and keep up with it. I felt that my Father in Heaven had answered my prayers in that scripture.
Sister Kapp: Gail, how have you made scripture study a habit?
Gail: I try to keep in mind three things. First, I’ve found that ten minutes of serious studying and concentration every day is much more meaningful and worthwhile to me than an hour of “hurried” reading once a week.
Second, I’ve found that it’s easier for me to make scripture reading a habit if I do it for a certain length of time and at a specific time of day, if at all possible. For me, it works best to read at least ten minutes a day, and I usually do that right after my prayers, before I go to bed. Some days are hard, and reading the scriptures every day helps me feel closer to my Father in Heaven and makes it easier to do what’s right.
Last of all, I’d say that scripture reading and prayer go hand in hand. A lot of times I don’t understand a scripture, but the feeling I get when I’m studying, reading, and praying can often bring answers to all kinds of questions and doubts.
Sister Kapp: How do you feel about having your own set of scriptures?
Gail: I love them. These scriptures that I have marked and studied have helped to increase my testimony so much. I’m only seventeen, but the principles and guidelines of the gospel that I understand and have learned to obey have really brought me closer to my Father in Heaven. From my study of His scriptures, I know that they are true.
Sister Kapp: Thank you, Gail, for your strong testimony. I know that they are true, too.

In 1993, after I had served as president of the Mexico Tuxtla Gutiérrez Mission, we traveled as a family to see my parents, who lived in northern Mexico. During the trip we talked about the joy of serving the Lord and seeing the change in people who had accepted the gospel during the three years we were in the mission. We were commenting about those people who were baptized, confirmed, and had received the priesthood and the ones we knew had entered the temple and were sealed as families for eternity.
My youngest son asked a question that made me reflect: “Dad, are you sealed to your parents?” I told him that because my father had been less active for many years, he and my mother were not sealed in the temple. To help him become active, I thought up a plan. It involved my children, and I explained to them how we would do it: Every Sunday my father would get up early to take my mother and sister to church, only to return home, wait for the services to end, then go back to pick them up. So I assigned my children to go with him and say, “Grandpa, would you do us a favor?” I knew his answer would be, “Whatever you want, my children.” Then they would ask him if he would go with them to church and stay with them so he could listen to their testimonies. It was the first Sunday of the month. I also knew my father would give any excuse not to go, so I planned to enter the room to help my children convince him.
The time soon came for executing the plan. My daughter, Susana, approached my father and asked him about the favor. Sure enough, my father told her he would do anything he could for them. Then came the invitation to go to church, and just as we had predicted, he used this excuse: “I can’t because I haven’t even showered.” That’s when my wife and I, who were hiding behind the door, shouted, “We’ll wait for you!”
When we realized he was not making a decision, my wife and I entered the room and, together with our children, began to insist: “Shower! Shower!” Then what we expected happened. My father came with us, he stayed for the services, listened to the testimonies of my children, his heart was softened, and from that Sunday on he never missed church. Months later, at the age of 78, he and my mother were sealed, and we, his children, were sealed to them.
I know that thanks to the power of godliness manifest in the ordinances of the temple, I can now be reunited with my parents for all eternity, even after death.

When school bus number 882 finally turned onto the dirt road, I was never happier to see our house.
I was still upset from the argument that had exploded between me and my friends three days ago. Or should I say ex-friends? Now I thought of them as bullheaded and cliquey.
When the bus stopped, I marched down the stairs determined not to speak to Connie and Vicki again.
That night I tossed and turned as contention filled my dreams.
By morning I had a headache. I also woke up late. As a result, I ran around the house trying to get ready for school. I finally grabbed my books and slammed the front door without saying good-bye to my mom and little brothers and sisters as I raced to the bus stop.
I walked quickly down the aisle, finding a seat away from Connie and Vicki. I could feel their eyes watching me, but I sat close to the window and pretended not to see them. I reached for my history book to read my assignment. I was surprised when I opened Pathways to Perfection by Elder Thomas S. Monson. I must have inadvertently grabbed the book as I raced out of the house. It was as if it fell open to what I needed to read most: the chapter titled “Love As Jesus Loves.” The words seemed to be directed at me as I read scriptures from Matthew 22:36–39:
“Master, which is the great commandment in the law?
“Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
“This is the first and great commandment.”
Then these words penetrated my heart:
“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” [Matt. 22:36–39]
Those verses took on new meaning for me. Tears filled my eyes as I felt my Heavenly Father’s love for me. And I realized that it wasn’t Connie and Vicki who needed to change. It was me!
That morning on the bus I made a commitment to serve and love the Lord through loving those around me.

Coming from a small town in Idaho, serving a mission in a large city was a big change for me. Everywhere I went, there were good people who were striving to do what was right, but there was also a varying concentration of people who were unaware of what was right or even actively pursuing what was wrong. This led to different levels of safety in different neighborhoods. In the very worst places, nobody came to pick up the garbage. People would just put their trash in empty lots where it piled up higher and higher. Drug dealing and other crimes were common and gunshots could be heard throughout the night. People sitting on their porches would be shot by people just driving by. Houses would be abandoned and then condemned, and the city would knock them down and nobody would rebuild there. I realized that what determines the safety of a place is the set of laws that the people in that place generally agree to—not necessarily the laws that are on the books but the laws that they actually abide by, the ones that are written on their hearts.

Last December, I had an accident. I fell on the street and broke my hip on both sides and my right arm. This has been one of my greatest trials because it kept me in bed, and I couldn’t walk for more than seven months. They put a hip prosthetic on one side, and the doctor decided to wait until I could walk before they put the other one in. I am still struggling with this challenge today, but I’m not facing it alone. I know my Savior has been by my side every day and always will be. This time, I prayed to help me regain my health so I could continue to enjoy the blessings of going to the temple and serving others. Many people have come to support and assist me. I’ve learned to be humble, recognize my weaknesses, and accept the service they have given me.