Gospel Story Finder

So far, the stories of hope have had happy endings. But what about times when what we most hope for isn’t fulfilled, such as the experience of our good friend, Pam Palmer, and her husband, Mike. Mike was a BYU-Hawaii faculty member when he was stricken with cancer. As with most cancer patients, Mike and his family hoped to beat it. Shortly after he was diagnosed, Mike gave Pam a blessing in which he blessed her that she and her children would not be left without his support through the next 40 years. Pam feels that this blessing gave Mike hope that he would recover, even when doctors gave him little or no hope. Many blamed Mike and Pam for giving their children false hope. Mike and Pam knew that the chances for recovery were slim, but they reasoned that living with hope was better than living without it. As author Marian Zimmer Bradley wrote: “The road that is built in hope is more pleasant to the traveler than the road built in despair, even though they both lead to the same destination.” The Palmers chose the road of hope. When things looked especially grim, Mike received a blessing from Dallin Oaks and Jeffrey Holland, who were visiting Hawaii at the time. In their blessing, they assured Mike that it was right to hope for recovery, that this temporal life is a blessing worth fighting for. On the other hand, they made very clear that Mike’s hope extended beyond this life. Not long after, Mike passed away, leaving Pam alone to care for their six children. In the end, Mike wasn’t there physically to support the children and Pam, but they often felt his presence, reaching out to support them from the other side of the veil.

The effects of a simple “yes” decision can also be very long-reaching. Some years ago, a young man, Boris Schiel, who was raised in Latvia, born of a Russian mother and German father, had to leave Latvia for Germany because of World War II. In the early 50’s, there came a knock on the door by two representatives of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Brother Schiel and his young bride said “yes” and were baptized. In time, they immigrated to Florida.

His baptism may seem somewhat routine in church history, but after retirement, he and his wife accepted a call to serve in the new Frankfurt Germany Temple. Next, they were called to be the first couple to open up the Church in Latvia. Because he spoke Latvian he could meet with the government officials to facilitate the legal registration of the Church. Later, he assisted in translating the Book of Mormon into Latvian, and he taught the new Latvian assigned missionaries at the MTC. This all started because of a step of faith, conversion and baptism into the Lord’s only true church.

About four years later, he set out to enroll at Oberlin College, Ohio, in hopes of furthering his military ambitions. On the way, he met and traveled with David W. Patten, a Mormon apostle.
Subsequently, Lorenzo went to Kirtland, Ohio, where his sister Eliza, who had joined the Church, had gone to live. He became closely associated with the Prophet and, after a time of investigation and study, was baptized in June 1836.

Before long, a shiny new chapel will be completed in Paterson, New Jersey. It’s currently under construction, and all the Church members in the Garden State’s third largest city are pretty excited.
But for now, members of the Paterson Second Branch still attend church in the annex of the Paterson City Hall, a building the branch rents for its meetings.
And though some members may not notice, the annex is cleaner than any other building on the street.
Fourteen-year-old Hector “Tito” Hernandez knows why.
In downtown Paterson, and especially on Market Street, where the annex is located, pigeons gather everywhere and leave—ahem—their marks on the buildings. Although clean on the inside, the outside leaves something to be desired.
When Tito joined the Church three years ago, he first attended the Caldwell Ward. When he moved into the Paterson Second Branch, he noticed how messy the annex’s exterior was. That started him to thinking. After discussions with his branch president, Tito decided what needed to be done.
So each Friday, Tito shows up at the building to make sure it is clean for Sunday services.
A little hot water, some soap, and a lot of effort on the granite building always do the trick. Even the mailbox, which sits right outside the front door, gets the treatment. At first, due to years of neglect, Tito had his work cut out for him. “The first couple of times were hard. But every week that went by, it got easier and easier,” he says.
“We want people to join our church,” Tito adds. “It makes me feel pretty good because I know [nonmembers] look at our church. I want the building to look nice for them.”
The routine is set. Tito gets out of school then either walks, rides his bike, or gets a ride downtown from his home on 10th Avenue. It might be 95 degrees outside or the wind could be howling while snow falls. It doesn’t matter. Tito is going to be there cleaning the place.
And Tito isn’t working solo any more. What started out as a project by himself has evolved. Now he’s enlisted the help of fellow ward members Jose Jimenez and Jose’s younger brother, Edwin. The trio arrive at the building, and the caretaker lets them in. They grab the familiar red bucket, fill it with soap and water, and head out the door for a few minutes of cleaning. The boys, huge sports fans, then fill their cleaning time with discussions about which basketball player has the best jump shot or who is baseball’s best shortstop.
Funny how fast the time goes when you’re doing something worthwhile.
Funny how good they all feel when they’ve finished the job.
“We do it for free,” says Jose, 13. “We want to because we do it for God.”
Tito and Jose also understand the importance of example as Aaronic Priesthood holders, especially for Edwin, who turns 12 later this year.
“Tito and Jose are teaching me how to become a deacon,” Edwin says. “They show me how the priesthood works. I want to be an honest, respectable young man.”
And sometimes being honorable and respectable means you have to be up to your armpits in suds.

I too received an email from a friend telling me about that very same position. He too knew that someday I wanted to return and work at BYU–Hawaii. And though the timing was not perfect for my family, it was very much something my wife and I had planned on for years. I was fortunate enough to receive the first interview and then the next. Each time I felt the promptings from the Spirit to act. As I met the team, it just felt right. And as my wife and I sat on the steps of the temple, in tears we said, “Lord, if you need us here, please bless this all to work out.” And later that month I too received a phone call and as soon as I said “hello,” I knew I did not get the job.

Over the ensuing weeks I asked, “Why? Why was the Spirit so clear on what I should be doing if this was not where He needed me. Hadn’t I learned the truth?” But at the same time, I felt a deep sense of peace. As I learned about the amazing career and background of Arlene, I clearly was taught by the Spirit that BYU–Hawaii had chosen the right person, at the right time. And as I returned to my normal routine, I began to feel what the choir so beautifully sang about in the hymn “The Lord Bless You and Keep You” I began to feel peace. I felt promptings to learn more and to grow. I was led to additional things at work I needed to learn. My job at that time needed me to progress in the topics of compliance, risk, and governance. I felt the need to learn something new in the job that I was already in. The entire time, and as I reflect, for years before I applied for that CIO job, the Lord had been preparing me for a different career. He was preparing me for the job I have now and love. He knew that had I not applied for the CIO job I would not have been open to learning what I needed to, for where He needed me.

One day I went to the market with my mom, my brother, and my sister. As we were leaving and were out in front of the store, I saw paper money floating in the breeze. I tried to grab it before it blew away, and I called to my mom to come and help. After we had gathered all the bills, we looked around to see who they could belong to. We saw no one, just a van pulling away. We couldn’t find a wallet or a purse. When we counted the bills—five twenties, one ten, and two ones—we realized I had found $112!
Mom reminded me that it wasn’t mine. She said it might belong to someone who needed it to live. After we called my dad at work to hear what he thought, we all decided that my mom would call the manager of the store and tell him we had found some money. We didn’t tell him the amount, but we left our name and phone number in case anyone asked for the money. My mom said that if no one claimed it after two weeks, I could keep it. She put it away in a box.
The very next day, an older lady phoned and explained that she had called the grocery story when she realized she was missing some money. The manager had given her our number. She told us she was missing five twenties, one ten, and two ones. Her husband was in a wheelchair, and they needed that money for food and other things. It was her Social Security benefit. She also said that she had been praying all night that her money would be found by someone honest so that it would be returned to her.
When we pulled up to her small home, Mom handed me the box with the money in it. I got out of the car and took it to the lady. She was smiling. She turned to my mom and dad and said, “Thank you for raising an honest child.”
I was glad that we were the people who found the money so that she could get it back. I felt very happy. I know Jesus would have returned the money if He had found it.

Currently I am swimming, serving as a student body officer, learning the piano and bass trombone, playing the piano for priesthood opening exercises, keeping an A average in AP classes, doing my duties as a priest and Eagle Scout, and holding a job to earn money for my mission. Most of the times overlap. I finally had to sit down and make a weekly schedule. This helped tremendously. I left at least 10 minutes of “me time” between each of these activities. But when work and swim continued to fill the same time slot, I had to drop swim for a while. That relieved much of the stress I was going through. Sometimes you just have to let things go, and prioritize your activities in order of importance.
Ryan G., 18, Mississippi

In my latest class a graduating honors student in business management wrote this—the assignment was to compare oneself with some character in the Pearl of Great Price, and he quite seriously chose Cain:
Many times I wonder if many of my desires are too self-centered. Cain was after personal gain. He knew the impact of his decision to kill Abel. Now, I do not ignore God and make murderous pacts with Satan; however, I desire to get gain. Unfortunately, my desire to succeed in business is not necessarily to help the Lord’s kingdom grow [a refreshing bit of honesty]. Maybe I am pessimistic, but I feel that few businessmen have actually dedicated themselves to the furthering of the church without first desiring personal gratification. As a business major, I wonder about the ethics of business—“charge as much as possible for a product which was made by someone else who was paid as little as possible. You live on the difference.” As a businessman will I be living on someone’s industry and not my own? Will I be contributing to society, or will I receive something for nothing, as did Cain? While being honest, these are difficult questions for me.

They have been made difficult by the rhetoric of our times.

From the first week they arrived in Utah they wanted to be involved in a family home evening at least once a week. So, on Monday nights they were invited into homes all over the Salt Lake Valley and enjoyed American family home evenings. But on Sunday nights they decided to get together and take turns giving the lesson to their own group. They made popcorn and usually ended the evening singing LDS hymns in Spanish.

I remember the story of one of our LDS chaplains, a man of great faith, devotion, and courage. For a year or more he had been in the central highlands of South Vietnam during the war there. …
He was not always a member of this Church. As a boy in the southern U.S. he grew up in a religious home where the Bible was read and where the family attended the little church of the community. He desired the gift of the Holy Ghost of which he had read in the scriptures but was told that it was not available. The desire never left him. He grew to manhood. He served in the U.S. Army. He searched but never found the thing he most wanted. Between military enlistments, he became a prison guard. While sitting in the gun tower of a California prison, he meditated on his own deficiencies and prayed to the Lord that he might receive the Holy Ghost and satisfy the hunger which he felt in his soul. That hunger had not been fully satisfied with sermons to which he had listened.
One day two young men knocked at his door. His wife invited them to return when her husband would be at home. These two young men taught that family by the Holy Spirit and they were baptized. I have heard this man testify to the effect that as he was taught by the power of the Holy Spirit, he was edified and rejoiced with those who taught him. Out of that marvelous beginning, with the gift of the Holy Ghost, came a shedding forth of light and truth that gave peace to the dying, comfort to the bereaved, blessings to the wounded, courage to the timid, and faith to those who had scoffed.1

In Puerto Francisco de Orellana, an isolated village in the jungles of Ecuador, members have a strong bond of love and faith. The monthly branch council reflects their caring. They focus on individuals and families first, then how programs can help. Inspiration follows.
Many members need help finding work. The branch council finds that the members’ challenges can often be solved at the local level. As the council discussed the needs of a single mother with a young daughter who has health problems, the Relief Society president knew of a job where the mother could work and still be near her daughter.
The branch council also draws on Church resources, such as the LDS Employment Services career workshop materials.2 They established a class taught by a branch member, which helped another branch member find a better job.
Ramiro Reyes, first counselor in the branch presidency, says of the branch council: “We are instruments in the hand of the Lord. He will achieve His goals through our works.”

My dad’s funeral was small and sacred. Twelve of us sang happy hymns of gratitude to God for my dad’s mortal life. When we started singing “There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today,”1 the family next to us, previously weeping for their own loss, became quiet. They seemed surprised that we weren’t shattered by our loss, but we experienced the peace of knowing there is a plan for us. I believe they also felt the peace that Jesus gives.

Our Young Women leaders decided that an overnight trip was just the thing to get us ready for camp. They chose the banks of the San Pedro River in southern Arizona, USA, to set up our practice camp.
After rolling out the sleeping bags, the other girls and I wanted to explore and get into the water. The leaders thought some discussions on safety and first aid should come first. So we all sat in a shady spot near the river for the lesson.
Paying attention wasn’t easy when we could see the river shining in the sun. The breeze was playing in the cottonwood trees as Sister Brown* talked. We had all heard the lesson before, and I just couldn’t understand why we needed it now. We knew all about putting pressure on a wound to stop the bleeding, but there she was telling us again.
Before they let us go, the leaders repeatedly told us not to go in the river without shoes. “You never know what’s in there, and you’ve got to protect your feet.”
As I got to the edge of the river, some of the other girls were already splashing in the water. The water was brown with mud. It was less than a foot deep all the way across, and I couldn’t believe that it was dangerous.
I decided to take off my shoes. I had brought only one pair, and I didn’t see the sense in getting them wet and having soggy shoes all day. My two best friends, Martha and Elizabeth, both reminded me of what the leaders had said. I took my shoes off anyway and explained my reasons. Martha took hers off too. Elizabeth was more hesitant. I waded out into the water and with a sarcastic tone said, “Keep them on if you want to.”
She sat down, took off her shoes, and ran into the water. After about five steps she stopped, turned pale, and calmly said, “Oh, no.” When she pulled her foot out of the water, I could see blood streaming out of a cut. She had stepped on a broken bottle.
The sight of blood made my brain go numb. Even though I had just been listening to a lesson on first aid, I had no idea what to do. I decided to run for help. Two others helped her out of the water.
I found Sister Brown and told her what had happened. She thought I was kidding. But when she saw Elizabeth sitting in the trail with blood gushing from her foot, she ran toward her shouting, “Put pressure on that cut!”
The lesson of 10 minutes before began to sink in. The girls, who had been standing around Elizabeth and watching her bleed, elevated her foot and put pressure on the wound.
Elizabeth was taken to the hospital, where she was told that she had almost cut her foot in half. It required numerous stitches and would take a long time to heal. The next time I saw her she was using crutches.
I never thought I could or would ever convince my best friend to do something that would hurt her that badly. I had never seen myself as a bad influence before.
Now I’m trying to be a better example to my friends, and I’m more willing to listen to my leaders. They know what they’re talking about.

These were times when I would see the best and worst sides of my grandpa. Grandpa always had a smile on his face but he never let a teaching moment pass. I'll never forget my very first day of bussing tables when I was 12. I was to be at work at 5 p.m. but I didn't get done with soccer practice until 5:00. So, I figured it wouldn't matter if I was a few minutes late. I smartly calculated the time it would take to ride my bike from the school to the restaurant. Five minutes wouldn't hurt anyone. So, I arrived a few minutes late and punched my time card and put on an apron and began clearing tables. I hadn't finished my first table when I looked back and saw my grandpa walking toward me. At first, I couldn't tell if he was happy for my first day of work or if he was going to give me a tongue-lashing. He simply put his hand on my shoulder and said: "Son, you were late for work on your first day." For which I quickly apologized and reassured him that it wouldn't happen again. Then he said: "And you don't come to work in soccer shorts and cleats. Go home, take a shower and come back when you're ready to work."

When I got back to the café in my white shirt, black pants and black church shoes, I found my grandpa cleaning the tables that I had neglected for the last 30 minutes. I quickly put on a clean white apron and rushed over to relieve my grandpa from cleaning tables. I half expected another tongue-lashing but the lesson he taught was so much better. When I approached the table, he just smiled and said: "Now, that's more like it." And then, instead of going home after a long day of work, having opened the restaurant at 3 a.m., he spent the next half hour showing me how to be the best bus boy at Prices Café.

Illustration by Toni Oka
It was October 1838, and Lucy Mack Smith grasped the hands of her sons Hyrum and Joseph before her sons were taken away. Government leaders had ordered the Saints to leave the area. Several Church leaders had been arrested by soldiers, and an illegal court martial ordered them to be shot. Lucy wondered if she would ever see her sons alive again.
What could possibly help a mother endure a trial like this? Years later, Lucy would look back on this time and recall that she was strengthened by a message of comfort received “by the gift of prophecy”: “Let your heart be comforted concerning your children; they shall not [be] harmed by their enemies.”1
This experience gave Lucy and her family feelings of “consolation, that surpassed all earthly comfort.”
The Smiths and many other Latter-day Saint families were driven out of Missouri. After finding refuge in the neighboring state of Illinois, Lucy and Joseph Smith Sr. tried to find information about their sons but found no answers. The Spirit again spoke peace to Lucy’s soul, telling her that Hyrum and Joseph would arrive the following evening.
Bishop Edward Partridge, who was with Lucy when she received this revelation, expressed doubt: “I have always believed you before; but I cannot see any prospect of this prophecy being fulfilled; but if it is so I will never dispute your word again.”
Asleep that evening, Lucy saw a vision of her weak and hungry sons traveling over the prairie. Lucy got ready for them to come home—and they did indeed arrive the next day. They described a journey that matched exactly what she had seen. After that, Bishop Partridge said that he would forever acknowledge Lucy “to be a true prophetess.”

A home teacher I know in our ward was recently sitting at home one evening when the prompting came into his mind--"Go visit Brother Jones! Now!" (And it wasn't even the end of the month!) He acted on that prompting and visited Brother Jones at a critical moment to comfort him. Brother Jones, whose wife had passed away, and some of his family members needed to hear the home teacher's testimony of eternal life. That teaching moment, that singular opportunity, may have passed forever if the prompting had not been headed.

Don't we all marvel at the inspirational stories President Thomas S. Monson tells of visiting widows, serving the poor, blessing suffering hospital patients--each exemplifying President Monson's personal ministry to bless Heavenly Father's children? Besides teaching us service, what else do these stories tell us? That when the voice of the Spirit prompts President Monson, he responds. If we respond to those quiet promptings that come to us, I promise we will find that our ability to feel the voice of the Spirit will increase and it will come with more frequency. On the other hand, I fear that if we ignore the promptings, the Spirit will withdraw and prompt us less and less often.

This Christmas story occurred in the middle of the summer some years ago at a naval training center.
The man opposite me in the room had the many stripes on his uniform that signified long and distinguished service; I was an apprentice seaman in boot camp. Nonetheless, Commander Hamilton, as he had greeted me at the door, had been most gracious—he called me “Mr. Hanks,” seated me with cordiality, and we talked as equals.
The commander, senior chaplain at the great training center, had invited me into his office to discuss the possibility of my becoming a chaplain. I was quick to explain that because I had interrupted my university training to serve as a missionary, I had not finished an academic degree and didn’t qualify for the chaplaincy under the navy’s standards. He replied that he felt he might be able to do something about getting a waiver of that requirement, all other things being favorable.
Commander Hamilton was a rangy, strong-looking man for whom I had immediately formed a feeling of respect and admiration. I had learned that he was one of the survivors of the aircraft carrier Yorktown when she was sunk by enemy action in the war and that he had been in the water for many hours before rescue. I was complimented and humbled that such a man would be considering his proposed action after having visited our group of LDS servicemen at the base.
“Before I recommend you to the Chief of Chaplains, Mr. Hanks, do me a favor, please. Talk to me about your experience in your Church, about what you think may help me in my recommendation of you as qualified to represent the Lord in the military chaplaincy.”
I began to explain to him the lifelong experience of a young man in the Church that had helped me prepare for such a significant opportunity. We went back to the beginning—the early participation, the 2 1/2-minute talks, the service as deacon, teacher, priest, elder, seventy; Scouting, seminary, institute, Sunday School teaching, leadership opportunities, missionary service.
As I talked, he who had been so courteous and kind and interested began to fidget, to lose interest, and I realized, as we do when we are seeking to communicate person-to-person, that I was not connecting, that l was losing the battle, and I became more anxious. Earnestly I tried to tell him what there is in the stage-by-stage opportunity in the Church for a young person to develop the quality to be a servant of God.
After a time his demeanor completely changed, and he interrupted me, saying very brusquely, “Say, Hanks, do you believe in Jesus Christ?”
“Yes, sir!” I said, “Everything I believe relates to Jesus Christ. My faith, my life, center in him as my Savior. The Church I belong to is founded on him and follows him as its living head. It is named in his name.”
He said, looking at his watch, “Well, you have been talking for seven minutes, and you haven’t said so.”
I think I have not made that mistake again.

Previously: Franco asked permission to go to church with Matt. And Matt tried a spicy soup called posole.
That soup was good. But I thought I was going to breathe fire like a dragon!
Well, the spices can take some getting used to.
Next time I might need a bigger glass of milk! Thanks again for lunch.
So, Dad, can I go to church with Matt?
I don’t think so, boys. Our family’s been in our church for many generations.
Later, at Matt’s house …
Franco’s dad is a good man who wants the best for his son. He’s being cautious.
Sigh. I guess.
That night …
Franco’s still my best friend. And his dad’s great too. We don’t have to be the same to be friends.
Good thing … ’cause I’m pretty different from everyone!

I have been a member of the Church for almost twenty years. I was among the less active for a while, but now I have returned to full activity thanks to two wonderful missionaries. They baptized four of my eight children.
Our ward meetinghouse is some distance away from the town where I live, and it wasn’t always easy to get to sacrament service. So I cleaned out my garage and offered it as a meetinghouse for the local members. We now have a branch, with between thirty and forty people attending sacrament service each week.

Joseph annually went to where the plates were buried and received further instruction from Moroni. However, in the excitement and temptation of potentially finding other valuable objects in the stone box, Joseph put down the plates in violation of the command God previously gave to him. Joseph was thrown violently to the ground; when he recovered, the angel Moroni was gone, and Joseph returned to the house “weeping with grief and disappointment.”3

This incident filled the Smith family with great uneasiness that Joseph might fail to get the plates due to his own negligence. “We therefore doubled our diligence in prayer and supplication to God,” Lucy recalled, “in order that he might be more fully instructed in his duty.”4 Shortly thereafter, tragedy struck the Smith family when the oldest son, Alvin, died. His deathbed instruction to Joseph was to keep the commandments God gave him and to do everything in his power to obtain the record. Joseph in time received the plates to translate.