Gospel Story Finder

Every year Elder David O. McKay put his cow Bossie in a truck and took her up the canyon to graze on his farm. But one year Bossie disappeared before the family had moved her.
Lawrence: Father, I didn’t tie Bossie up, and now she’s gone! I was in the house for only a minute or two.
Elder McKay: Don’t worry. She’s probably headed up the canyon.
Elder McKay and Lawrence found Bossie at the mouth of the canyon. Someone had tied her to a post.
Elder McKay: Let’s see if she can get up the canyon by herself. I’ll leave this note on her halter:
Note: “Please let me pass; I’m going to grass.”
Bossie made it to the farm in the canyon in good time. From that year on, Elder McKay always let Bossie loose in the spring because he trusted her to go straight to the farm.

I was trapped.
At 18, I knew the Church was true. The Lord knew I knew. The missionaries knew I knew. But my parents didn’t know I knew.
It took me three weeks to work up the courage to tell Mom about it. I didn’t dare tell Dad.
“Mom,” I asked after she had recovered from the shock of hearing that her Catholic son wanted to become a Mormon, “how can I tell Dad?”
She was silent for a moment. “I don’t know if you should. He’d kill you,” she said, confirming my fears. “But don’t worry,” she added. “I’ll tell him someday.”
“But, Mom, I want to get baptized as soon as possible.”
“If you wait until you go to college,” she said, “you’ll be away from your father, and he’ll have time to make adjustments before he sees you again. It really would be much easier on both of you.”
I knew what she was saying made sense, but I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. I talked to the elders.
“It’s your decision,” said one elder. “Of course we’d like you to get baptized now, while you’ve got the desire and the understanding and the guidance of the Spirit. But you’ve got to do what’s best for you. The only way to be sure,” he said as he patted me on my shoulder, “is to fast and pray about it.”
I had never fasted or prayed in my life, but I was willing to give it a try. My head hurt and my stomach growled, and at every possible chance I prayed and pondered what I should do. I made a list of pros and cons. I talked it over with the elders, my friends, my mom. And I prayed some more.
Finally, near the end of my fast, I had a feeling, a strong feeling, that I should get baptized as soon as possible. I didn’t want to cause problems in my family, but I couldn’t shake that feeling. Heavenly Father had answered my prayers. I knew I had to get baptized.
I told the elders. I told my friends. And then I found the courage to tell my mom and dad. Dad didn’t say anything. He just stared at the floor with his face turning red and his feet shuffling uncomfortably. He was too upset to speak all night. The next evening he did something he’d never done before—he came up to my room to talk with me. I was sure my life was over, but Dad surprised me.
“Son,” he said, sitting on my brother’s bed, “I want you to know that I think you’re making a serious mistake by joining the Mormon church. But you’re old enough now to do what you think is best. When I was your age, I was allowed to make my own decisions, and I guess I turned out okay.”
He stood up to leave. “Dad,” I said, “believe me. I’m sorry that you don’t feel good about my joining the Church. But I’ve thought about it, prayed about it, and I know it’s what I’ve got to do.”
Then Dad did something else he’d never done before. He hugged me.
I was baptized the next week. My baptism fanned the spark of testimony I had gained from the missionary discussions into a fire that burns bright even today.
My experience taught me that Heavenly Father answers our prayers and that some answers don’t come easily. When the answers do come, blessings will follow if we find the courage and strength to act on them.

Recently I found something I had written about my childhood that brought faith and fear into perspective for me. As a child, I failed to see the symbolism in the experience, but as an adult, standing at the edge of an unknown path, it now holds great meaning.

When I was very young, my family lived in a beautiful little community in New Jersey that surrounded a lake. It was a child’s paradise. In summer we splashed in cool water, climbed lush trees, and picked wild flowers and berries. In winter, snow and ice gave variety to our play as we skated, sledded, and built carrot-nosed snowmen. In any season we rarely tired of the great outdoors and reluctantly ventured inside only when it was dark.

One summer evening was an exception. I had been invited to a friend’s house to watch a favorite television program. When it was time to go, I said good-bye and began walking home along the winding, wooded path between our two houses.

In the darkness, the path I thought I knew became a fearsome jungle. I couldn’t see the occasional gnarled roots and sharp rocks protruding from the packed-down earth, and I tripped and fell. With my face in the dirt, sobs of frustration and fear wracked my seven-year-old body. As my tears subsided, I remained face down and immobile for a few seconds, fearing that I might be eaten by monsters, which were surely lurking behind every tree.

Then I remembered that before leaving home, my brother had tucked his penlight into my pocket, explaining that it would be dark when I returned. Relieved to find it just where he had placed it, I stood up, brushed off the dirt, and turned on the light. Although it produced only a dime-sized circle on the ground where I pointed it, and I couldn’t get the full vision of what was on either side or ahead of me, I could see where to step safely. And so, hesitantly, I headed for home, hoping that I was going in the right direction.

My confidence increased with my new visibility, and, glancing up for a brief moment, I became aware of another light at the end of the path. I was relieved to recognize it as my porch light. Someone who cared about my safe return had turned it on for me. I was still groping step by step along the path, but with my destination in sight my fear diminished.

Then, suddenly, my little circle of light grew broader. At first I questioned the power of my tiny penlight, so I stopped and turned it around to examine its intensity. Despite the small circle of light now shining in my face, the path ahead was flooded with light illuminated by another source. Puzzled, I looked up and could see my older brother standing a few feet away, directing his Boy Scout flashlight on my path. With this added light came a new perspective. I could now see my path more clearly, and with increased vision I was aware of the dangers on either side.

I couldn’t see the details along the entire stretch of my journey, but with my light now strengthened by my brother’s and the porch light marking my goal, I no longer felt afraid. I held my little light tightly, letting it shine where the brilliance of his led the way. That joint effort glowed gloriously. I could see now that each step in the right direction took me closer to my destination. With my tiny circle joining my brother’s larger light, we walked together toward home.

When we were almost there I asked, “How did you know I needed help, that I couldn’t find my way alone?”

“I just knew,” was his only reply. And he took my hand and led me safely inside.

Seventeen years after that accident, I was called to be the bishop of my ward. During a subsequent ward council meeting, the Primary president proposed calling a particular couple to teach the CTR class. My counselors and I quickly traded surprised glances.
The sister attended church, though inconsistently, but her husband hadn’t attended for years. Nevertheless, we all felt they should have the opportunity to consider the calling.
The night before I spoke with the couple, I had a vivid dream. I awoke the next morning and remembered it completely. It was all about what to say at the interview so they would accept the call to serve. I felt shocked at remembering my first dream in 17 years, but more than that, the dream’s content thrilled and energized me.
That evening my counselor picked me up. As we drove to the appointment, he said, “Bishop, I’m going to let you do all the talking.” I remember smiling confidently because I felt the Lord had outlined my presentation for me.
During the interview I repeated the dream exactly, and the couple accepted the call. As we headed home for the night, my counselor said, “I feel like I’ve just been schooled by the master.” I smiled again because I knew it was true—both of us had been schooled by the Master.
The husband and wife carried out their Primary duties with dedication, and they both became active in the ward. A couple of years later they were sealed in the temple.
To this day, that particular dream is the only one I have remembered for the past 28 years. I feel certain that Heavenly Father knew the time was perfect for this couple. Consequently, He inspired the Primary president and, for one night, blessed my partly out-of-order memory to function perfectly. Once again, I realize that the Lord stands at the head of this Church and that “the eternal purposes of the Lord shall roll on, until all his promises shall be fulfilled” (Mormon 8:22).

Sister Young had a stroke two days after we got home from a trip we took to Mexico. It incapacitated her for the rest of her life, and I had the honor and the great pleasure of nursing her for the five or six more years she lived. Had she had the stroke two or three days before in Quetzalcoalcos, Mexico, in the southwest corner of the Gulf of Mexico, we never should have gotten her out alive, but mercifully it waited till she got home.

I grew up in the village of Fitiuta, Manu’a in American Samoa. Fitiuta is one of the 3 villages on the island of Ta’u, Manu’a. It is 70 miles east of the main island of Tutuila, American Samoa. In the 1960s, I lived in the village of Fitiuta with my family until I was 12 years old when we moved here to Hawaii. The only form of transportation between the main island of Tutuila and the Manu’a islands is a small steam ship that travels there once a week. There is no wharf so the ship would dock out in the blue ocean and the villagers would row a longboat out to meet the ship and pick up the supplies and the passengers. It is very dangerous and wet especially when the tide is high. I remembered one of those trips our family were told to wait for two missionaries that will be coming from Tutuila to Fitiuta. So, our family went to the shore to wait for the ship to arrive. I was watching from the shore as the men of the village rowed the longboat out to meet the ship, and for some reason my Dad wasn’t on the longboat. I saw two missionaries with white shirts standing on the edge of the ship getting ready to jump on to the longboat but they were stopped by some of the men indicating that they are not to board the longboat.

However, the men reached out for the missionaries’ suitcases. When they got the suitcases from the missionaries, they threw them in the blue ocean and I can see the suitcases floating away. My father saw what was happening to our palagi (Caucasian) missionaries so he waited until the longboat returned to shore. When they returned my Dad jumped in the longboat and told the men of the village that the two missionaries are ministers of his church and they are supposed to respect and honor them just like how they respect the minister of their LMS church. So, the men and along with my Dad went back to the ship and picked up our two missionaries. I’m not sure about their suitcases though. They were shocked and probably wished that they could go back to Tutuila on the steam ship right then and there but they stayed. It was this experience that was the beginning of the missionaries’ journey of finding their voice in the village of Fitiuta and find ways to continue to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ.

We all have opportunities to proclaim the gospel by being good examples in our homes, at work, at school, and in our communities. One young woman’s patriarchal blessing said that wherever she traveled, people would judge the Church by her example. Since then, she has traveled a great deal—in a college performing group, and later in her employment. She has remembered that counsel and has had many opportunities to discuss the Church with nonmembers.
Another sister, a recent convert, was startled one Sunday when a sister in her ward spoke about dressing with the intention to someday go to the temple and receive one’s endowment. “That sister’s counsel made a strong impression on me,” she says. “As I thought about it, I felt a desire to find out just how I should dress if I had been to the temple.” She later discarded her revealing or inappropriate clothing, and she made future purchases with Church standards in mind. Two years later, when she received her endowment, her wardrobe did not need to be changed; it was both modest and attractive.

On one occasion a girl was trying to decide whether or not to marry a certain individual and was confused because at times she felt doubt and uncertainty and at other times was certain she wanted to marry him. When they were together it seemed right, but when she was alone or away from him, there was much doubt and uncertainty. We talked about many things: the kind of person she wanted to marry, the element of trust in marriage, possible reasons for her doubt, and why at times it seemed all right. Toward the end of the conversation she was asked to consider what she really felt was the right thing to do. After a few moments she observed that she had really known all along it wasn’t right but had just put aside those feelings. One must follow the counsel of Mormon and “search diligently in the light of Christ that ye may know good from evil. …” He then promised, “… if ye will lay hold upon every good thing, and condemn it not, ye certainly will be a child of Christ.” (Moro. 7:19.)

The Church in Ukraine is racing forward, and the youth are in the forefront. Last Christmas the youth organized a Christmas party for all the members in Kiev, reenacting the Christmas story on stage. They read scriptures, performed music, gave gifts, arranged for a visit from Father Frost (Ukrainian Santa Claus), and got everyone to join hands in a huge circle for the traditional dance around the Christmas tree.
Not long ago, they held their first youth conference in Kiev. Youth came from all the cities the Church has opened in the country, including Donetsk, Kharkov, and Gorlovka. The conference featured, not one, but three service projects: planting apple trees and rose bushes on the lawn in front of the building the Church rents on Sundays; taking toys and clothes donated by members to orphans at a government boarding school; and painting the fence around the boarding school.
Ukrainian youth enjoy spending time together studying scriptures and learning more about the gospel. “Best of all,” said one, “we know that if we all live worthily, we can all return to live with Heavenly Father again.”

Over the years, our Heavenly Father has continued to bless us in miraculous ways. In 1947 our daughter was called to serve a mission. Although we had very little money, and our family would greatly miss the income from her job, we agreed to support her. Never was our family so blessed as during our daughter’s mission. Occasionally someone would tell me that they wished their child could serve a mission, but that they didn’t have the money. I always told them that we didn’t have the money either, but that the Lord blessed us so that somehow we were able to support her each month.

Margaret tucked her children into bed. Her son, Jeffrey, opened one eye. “Mummy, when can we go to the temple?”
Margaret kissed his forehead. “As soon as it’s finished.” She turned out the light.
Margaret was looking forward to the temple dedication too. She was excited to be sealed to her family. But the temple was far away in New Zealand. It would cost a lot of money to travel from their home in Australia. They had saved for months. They even sold their car. But they still needed 200 more pounds.
She knelt to pray. “Heavenly Father, please help us get the rest of the money we need.”
Just then her husband, Don, walked in. “I saw my father today. He apologized for not visiting us, and he gave us this.”
He handed her a piece of paper. It was a check for 100 pounds! Margaret could hardly believe it. Don’s father hadn’t talked to them in months. It was a miracle!
A few days later, Margaret’s parents visited. “We’ve been saving some money,” her father said. He pressed 100 pounds into Margaret’s hand. “Have a good trip!”
Margaret smiled. They had enough money now!
There was one more problem. The trip would take six weeks. Don’s boss said he couldn’t be gone that long. After a lot of prayer, Margaret and Don decided Don would quit his job.
Finally it was time to go. Margaret and Don helped their children onto the train. They rode it for five whole days.
“Are we there yet?” Jeffrey asked Margaret.
“Not yet,” she said. “Now we’ll take the boat to New Zealand.”
But there was more bad news. The boat had crashed. It wasn’t taking passengers. Had they come this far for nothing?
No! Margaret’s prayers were answered again. Someone gave them plane tickets. Soon Margaret and her family were flying over the ocean. Next stop, New Zealand!
When Margaret finally stepped inside the temple, her heart was warm. She even got to shake the prophet’s hand. “Heavenly Father will bless your family because you chose to come here,” he said.
Later, Margaret and her family dressed in white. They knelt around an altar to be sealed. Margaret beamed. Now they could be together forever!
When they got home, Margaret and Don had only 5 pounds left. But Margaret remembered the prophet’s promise. Heavenly Father would bless them.
And He did! The next week, Don came home with happy news. “I got a job! It’s even better than the one I had before.”
Margaret hugged him tight. She knew going to the temple would always be worth it.

One Sunday I was walking to church when I noticed a beautiful butterfly lying in a wet gutter. The butterfly was stuck in the water and flapping its wings very slowly. My dad helped me lift the butterfly up and place it on a tree branch. After a few moments the butterfly flew away. I was happy to have helped one of God’s beautiful creations. I know God loves everything He created, and that He would be happy that I helped the butterfly.

One morning the Prophet was unhappy with his wife Emma over a household matter. When he went upstairs where Oliver Cowdery and David Whitmer were waiting to continue with the translation, he still had a bad feeling about his wife in his heart. Joseph tried to translate but not even a syllable of a word came to him; and he knew why. Joseph went downstairs and out into an orchard where he prayed to the Lord.

After about an hour, Joseph returned to the house feeling humble and repentant. He asked Emma to forgive him for his lack of understanding. Then he went back upstairs where he was able to translate without any difficulty.

David Whitmer also understood why the Prophet couldn’t translate just an hour before. He said, “Now we see how very strict the Lord is, and how he requires the heart of man to be just right in his sight before he can receive revelations from him.”

From Idaho comes a story of Jonathan, who went to school in the cold weather wearing his warm hat. When he got to school, he noticed another boy’s ears were frostbitten because he had had to wait so long in the cold for the school bus to pick him up. On his own, Jonathan went to the telephone, called his mother, and asked if it would be all right to give the younger boy his hat because he needed it more. As we bear on another’s burdens, as Jonathan did, we are fulfilling the covenant we made at baptism.

Another experience that is very close to me was to have the sacrament in orbit. We were in space for a full week, so of course, we were up there on a Sunday. Our bishop had given me permission to hold my own sacrament service. It was a little unusual. You priests in the audience might consider what it would be like to try to kneel down in weightlessness—you keep drifting off. For privacy I held my sacrament service in my sleep station—something like a Pullman berth. I kneeled on what you would think of as the ceiling and braced my shoulders against my sleeping bag so I would not float away. It was a very special experience. I will remember that sacrament service and the renewing of my baptismal covenants high above the earth all my life. It had some of that special feeling that you usually have only when you go to the temple.

At one time, our ward needed a Gospel Doctrine teacher in Sunday School. As a bishopric we prayed and reviewed several names with the Sunday School president. But we didn’t feel a confirmation about what to do. Once again, Larry had an idea. “What about Ila Gibb?” Ila was in her 70s, but we all felt impressed that she would be a good teacher. The Sunday School president agreed.
Sister Gibb laughed when Larry and I extended the calling. “I’m old,” she said. “Just leave me on the shelf.”
When Larry replied, “Sister Gibb, how old … ,” I thought he was going to hold himself up as an example. But he didn’t. He said with kindness, “How old is the prophet?” At this time, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) had just become the President of the Church at age 84.
“I see where you’re headed,” Ila replied. “I guess we’re never too old to serve.” And for the next three years, she served as a marvelous Gospel Doctrine teacher.

The story is told of a traveler who asked a farmer, “How’s the cotton crop going to be this year?”
The farmer replied, “There won’t be any. I didn’t bother to plant it, because I was afraid of the boll weevil.”
Upon hearing this, the traveler asked further, “Well, are you going to harvest a big corn crop?”
“It’s the same,” came the response. “I was afraid that we wouldn’t get enough rain for the kernels to mature.”
The traveler pursued, “At least you will have a good potato harvest.”
“Nope. I didn’t dare plant any, because I was afraid of insects.”
Somewhat frustrated, the traveler then asked, “Well, what is it that you have planted?”
“Nothing, my good man,” came the answer. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

Married life in England was a struggle and she and her husband made the decision to immigrate to Australia in 1966 as ‘10-pound pommies’—the amount paid to each of them to travel by ship to relocate in Australia. Once settled in their new land, they looked for religion. Almost unbelievably, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on their door and were eagerly invited in. As gospel principles and doctrines were taught, they felt familiar to the couple, and they loved learning about the covenants they could make with Heavenly Father.
Carol said: “When we were taught the law of tithing, I was sure we would starve. But with faith we obeyed and opportunities to improve our financial affairs started. A promotion at work for Michael, my husband—and the blessings just kept coming. Tithing is not about money; it is about faith. We were baptized and never looked back. It was one of the best decisions of our lives.
“The gospel opened a whole new world for me. The promise of Elijah—turning the hearts of the children to the fathers, and the [hearts of the] fathers to the children . . . my heart was turned to my ancestors.”

Second Experience:
Right after I returned from serving in the New York Rochester Mission, I was called and assigned to teach the eight-year-olds in Primary. One Sunday, to emphasize the need for us to let go of our burdens and specifically to not hold onto sin, I began taking rocks out of every one of my suit pockets and lining them up on the tray of the chalkboard.
After they saw the first few rocks, they began to giggle and ask why I had them in my pockets and if I had carried them all through church. Once they were all lined up, I said to them, "Carrying all these rocks in my pockets is as silly as not allowing Jesus to lift our burdens."
I don't know if any of them remember that object lesson, but I have thought of it often since then. Isn't it foolish for us to make this life more difficult than it already is by choosing to carry around extra burdens that the Lord will so willingly take from us? In Hebrews 12:1-2, Paul says, "Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us.... Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith."

“A group of men were talking with the Prophet Joseph Smith one day when news arrived that the house of a poor brother … was burned down. Everyone expressed sorrow for what had happened. The Prophet listened for a moment, then ‘put his hand in his pocket, took out five dollars and said, “I feel sorry for this brother to the amount of five dollars; how much do you all feel sorry?”’ … Last year millions of you responded to the sorrow of others with your means, tender hearts, and helping hands. Thank you for your wonderful measure of generosity.”Bishop H. David Burton, Presiding Bishop, “Tender Hearts and Helping Hands,” Liahona and Ensign, May 2006, 8.