Gospel Story Finder

On Thursday, a group from the Mormon Battalion who had been released in New Mexico entered the valley and joined the Saints, increasing their number to about 400. These men from the battalion went to work immediately on the construction of a bowery on the southeast corner of the place designated as the Temple Block to serve as a place of assembly—a predecessor to this tabernacle. Poles were cut and brought from the mountains and planted in the ground to support a roof of leafy boughs. This first structure to be built in the valley was finished on Saturday, one week from the day of arrival. On the following day, Sunday, they were able to hold religious services under the shade of this bowery.

It was impossible to cheer up Aunt Mabel. I’d been with her all day, and she hadn’t even come close to smiling. I handed the mail to her and said, “A magazine and a letter from Cousin Ellen.”
“But no surprise package from anyone,” Aunt Mabel said. “What a bad day.” She set the mail on the table in the dark hall and turned to me. “Shall we go for a little walk, Judy?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, happy to get out of her gloomy house. When we stepped outside, I smiled up at the blue sky. “What a bright, sunny day,” I said.
Aunt Mabel glared at the sky. “It’s too bright. It makes me squint. Now I’ll get more wrinkles. What a bad day.”
I looked down and saw something shiny on the sidewalk. “Look! A penny,” I said, stooping to pick it up.
“Too bad it’s not a dime or a quarter,” Aunt Mabel said.
We walked to the park and Aunt Mabel sat on a bench under a big, leafy tree. “Isn’t it nice here in the shade?” I asked.
Aunt Mabel shook her head, gazing uneasily at the branches.
“Those leaves are probably full of caterpillars, and one might fall on me. What a bad day.”
I sighed and sat next to Aunt Mabel, but no caterpillars fell from the tree. After a few minutes, Aunt Mabel stood up. “Let’s be on our way,” she said.
We walked beside a garden that was filled with big yellow and orange flowers. “Mmmm,” I said. “Don’t those flowers smell sweet!”
Aunt Mabel rubbed her nose. “Makes my nose twitch,” she said, hurrying past the garden. “What a bad day.”
I slowed down and breathed in the sweet fragrance. My nose wasn’t twitching. I watched Aunt Mabel walk along the path and wondered how I could cheer her up. Skipping along, I caught up with her. “At least the sun’s not in our eyes, now,” I said, watching our shadows stretch before us.
Aunt Mabel buttoned her sweater. “Now the sun is hot on my back, but I’m cold in front. What a bad day.”
“We’re almost home,” I said as we turned the corner and Aunt Mabel’s house came into view. “You have a pretty house.”
Aunt Mabel looked up at her house. “It’s old,” she said. “The floor boards creak and groan.”
We climbed the steps and sat on the porch swing. “Shall I get us some lemonade?” I asked. Aunt Mabel nodded.
I carried two glasses of lemonade out to the porch. I knew what Aunt Mabel would say, and sure enough, after one sip she said it: “This lemonade is too sour. What a bad day.”
I was thirsty and drank mine right down. I thought it tasted pretty good. At last Mom’s car pulled up in front of the house, and I jumped up to leave.
“Did you have a nice visit?” she asked. I just shrugged. I didn’t want to lie and say I’d had a great time.
Aunt Mabel stood up and kissed Mom on the cheek. Then she gave me a hug. I hugged her, too, and she said, “Ouch! Watch out for these old bones!” I backed away.
“Did you have a good day visiting with your niece?” Mom asked her.
I waited for Aunt Mabel to tell Mom what a bad day she’d had.
“I had a very good day,” Aunt Mabel said. “It was nice to have someone to tell my troubles to.”
Mom and I got in the car, and before we drove away, I waved to Aunt Mabel. She waved back, and I was sure she actually smiled at me.
“You certainly cheered Aunt Mabel up,” Mom said.
“Yes,” I said. “What a bad-good day we had.”

He had big dreams. He and his partner had placed second at the junior level United States nationals, third at U.S. nationals, and first in an international competition in China. His plan was to compete in the 2006 Winter Olympics and then go on a mission after he turned 21. But when he was 18, just when everything was going smoothly, he ran into a snag.
“I wasn’t really enjoying it, and I was having a hard time with the sport,” he remembers. “I was just trying to push through it, and I could not do it anymore. I said, ‘Lord, what do I do?’”
Chris got the first part of his answer when he went to talk to his bishop, who encouraged him to pray about his plan to delay his mission. “His advice kind of went in one ear and out the other,” Chris admits. “But my life got to the point where I really did have to ask, and I really did have to listen.”
The second part of Chris’s answer came during a sacrament meeting. As he listened to his Young Men president talk about his own mission call, the Spirit told him, “‘Chris, you need to serve a mission when you’re 19, or you’re going to have a tough life.’ The message was so clear I actually turned around to see if someone was there,” he says. “The feeling came back 10 times stronger, and I knew I had to go on a mission.”
That night Chris called his partner and coaches to give them the news. When he had first started training with them, he told them that a mission was a possibility. But none of them had expected him to go—at least not yet. Although they were disappointed, Chris says, “They’ve been very supportive of me and my mission, and I give them credit for that.”
Chris feels peace about his decision and where his life is going. “I’m grateful Heavenly Father gave me that prompting,” he says. “But it’s been really hard since then. Satan tried to bring me down in any way possible.”
To combat the fears and temptations, Chris read the scriptures and prayed the way he used to dedicate himself to practicing at the ice rinks in Delaware, where he lived while he trained. He studied the scriptures at least twice a day, and he set aside time to pray earnestly at least three times a day. “That really protected me,” he says. He also credits much of his help to surrounding himself with good friends and family when he came back home to the Thirteenth Ward of the Salt Lake Central Stake.
There are lots of rules in ice dancing—lots of required and restricted moves. To succeed takes a lot of creativity and dancing talent. Chris thinks his experiences with ice dancing will help him on his mission—experiences like learning to get along with a partner, following strict rules, and being dedicated to something every day for a long time.
His call to the Baltic States Mission, Russian speaking, was exciting for Chris, especially since he knows speaking Russian will help him if he still wants to return to ice dancing after his mission. (Many of the competitors and coaches speak Russian.) He also wants to be a coach eventually. But for now, he says, “I just want to try to bring people to a knowledge of the gospel.”

I remember working with my brother and sisters Mary Jayne and Lou-Ann in my father’s wholesale meat store. We went there early every Saturday morning to take the cellophane wrappings off hot dogs. It wasn’t pleasant work, and we didn’t always enjoy it. Sometimes I begrudged the fact that I had to get up early and work while my friends were sleeping in or playing. But I learned how to work, and I soon learned to make work fun.
We all played the piano in my family, and some of our favorite pieces were songs from Broadway musicals. Everyone had the words memorized, and we spent most of our Saturday mornings singing. I can still remember the words to the songs of every musical that Rodgers and Hammerstein ever wrote. We sang the lyrics to Oklahoma, South Pacific, and Carousel as we skinned the hot dogs. And we truly had fun. We still love to sing together. It brings back wonderful memories.

When I was eight years old our family moved to Salt Lake City from California. We lived on a new street where there were just a few houses. The Hathaway family, who had children near my age, lived in the house nearest to us.
One day the Hathaway children invited me to go to Primary with them, and Mother said I could.
Mrs. Hathaway wanted to ask Mother the “golden questions.” She decided to fast and pray and ask the Lord to help her know the right words to say to Mother. But when she came over to our house, the words just wouldn’t come out, and she went home very disappointed.
Nevertheless the Spirit began to work on Mother and a day or two later she asked Mrs. Hathaway what I was learning in Primary. Afterward she said she would like to know more about the Mormon Church. Mrs. Hathaway was happy to answer all of Mother’s questions and asked if our family would listen to the missionary lessons.
After listening to the missionaries, Mother and I were soon baptized.

I first met Latter-day Saint missionaries at a train station when I was 19. I could tell that there was something special about these young women, and I felt an urge to talk to them. So I approached and asked what they were doing in Taiwan. They told me they were missionaries and began to talk about the gospel. Over the course of several meetings, I learned about Jesus Christ, His restored gospel, and the Book of Mormon. It was the last of these topics—the Book of Mormon—that caused me to join the Church.

“I liked getting my hands dirty and working alongside all the other girls,” said Brooke Matsen of the Farmington Ninth Ward. She was pitching in with the other young men and women of the ward as they helped clear, plow, cultivate, and plant a large neighborhood garden. The garden provides not only fresh produce but also opportunities for learning and service.
The youth cleared branches and pulled stumps from the area prior to plowing. Then they worked together in planting 160 tomato plants, cutting and planting seed potatoes, corn, beans, and peppers. Unfortunately, as the plants flourished, so did the weeds. Families and youth were assigned to keep rows weeded. In the end everyone helped with the harvest and learned how to bottle and preserve the food.
“It was fun to work with everyone,” said Kambria Johnson. “We got closer and there were good bonding experiences. It’s good to know the garden would benefit some in the ward.”

In my own life, it was my good fortune to have met Connie while I was still in college. We married and were blessed with a beautiful daughter when we were still in school. We had barely enough money to pay our bills. Our baby slept on a pillow in a cardboard box and we slept on a mattress on the floor. Following graduation, our first purchase after a few months of saving was to buy a bed for our daughter. The floor was good enough for us. The baby crib lasted for five wonderful children. We are now in our 45th year together. Our first purchase of a baby crib is a wonderful memory associated with starting our family.

Connie has always been my support, really my helpmate. Without her indefatigable loyalty, the interesting path that has been our life together would not have been possible. Never looking back, she has supported our partnership with a willing heart and complete fidelity. Whether we have had famine or abundance, her desire has been like Ruth of old:
"Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go: and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy god my God." Her desire has always been to go where the Lord would have us go.

All of the Authorities who are here tonight could testify that in the reorganization of stakes they have had remarkable and inspiring experiences. I recall being assigned to reorganize a stake about 40 years ago. The president had suddenly died. The Brethren asked me to go down and speak at the funeral and reorganize the stake. I had never done this before. I was new as a General Authority. I was to be all alone.

When I arrived, I was taken to another town, where I participated in the funeral service. I asked all of the stake officers and the bishops to remain after the service and announced that a reorganization of the stake would take place the next evening.

I asked the mission president to sit with me as I interviewed the brethren, none of whom I knew. We interviewed late into the evening. I soon discovered there were problems in the stake. There were divisive feelings. When we were all through, I said to the mission president, “I am not satisfied. Are there not others?” He said, “I know of only one man whom we have not interviewed. He moved here rather recently on a transfer in his company. He is the second counselor in a bishopric. I do not know him well. He resides in another city.”

I said, “Let’s go see him.” We drove and went to the hotel where I would be staying for the night. Here I was, having interviewed all of these brethren and having not found one that I considered worthy to preside and having scheduled the reorganization for the next evening.

We arrived late at the hotel. I called the man; a sleepy voice answered the phone. I said that I wished to see him that evening. I apologized for calling him so late. He said, “I’ve just gone to bed, but I’ll put on my clothes and come.”

He came to the hotel. The conversation that followed was most interesting. He was a graduate of BYU in petroleum geology. He worked for a big oil company. He had served elsewhere in positions of responsibility in the Church. He knew the program of the Church. He had served a mission. He knew the gospel. He was mature in the Church. And the territory for which he was responsible as an employee of the oil company was exactly the same as the territory of the stake. I told him we would telephone him in the morning and excused him.

The mission president went on his way, and I went to bed.

At about three o’clock the next morning I awoke. Doubts began to flood my mind. This man was almost a total stranger to the people of the stake. I got out of bed and got on my knees and pleaded with the Lord for direction. I did not hear a voice, but I had a very distinct impression that said, “I told you who should be stake president. Why do you continue to ask?”

Ashamed of myself for troubling the Lord again, I went to bed and fell asleep. I phoned the man early the next morning and issued to him a call to serve as president of the stake. I asked him to select counselors.

That evening when people gathered for the meeting, there was much speculation as to who would be the stake president, but no one even thought of this man. When I announced his name, people looked at one another for a clue to discovering who he was. I had him come to the stand. I announced his counselors and had them come to the stand.

Even though they did not know him, the people sustained him. Things began to happen in that stake. The people had known for a long time that they needed a stake center, but they had been uncertain and argumentative as to where it should go. He went to work and within 18 months had a beautiful new stake center ready for dedication. He unified the stake. He traveled up and down, meeting the people and extending his love to them. That stake, which had grown tired, came to life and literally bubbled with new enthusiasm. It stands as a shining star in the large constellation of stakes in this Church.

I would like to share with you the experience of a friend of mine from the mission field that illustrates the power of scripture. Terry Barrett was sent to fight in Vietnam in 1966. He returned home in 1967 with a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star Medal for valor and heroism. To deaden the emotional pains associated with the atrocities of the war, Terry turned to alcohol and soon became addicted. Then, in 1998 he faced a major surgical procedure. Not being LDS, he was hesitant to receive a priesthood blessing from an LDS friend. Finally, however, Terry consented and received the blessing. Concerning that blessing, he says, “I felt a peace I had never felt before, and a voice said, ‘It will be all right, Terry.’”

As a result of the blessing, his hunger and thirst for alcohol was instantaneously and miraculously transformed into a hunger and thirst for the scriptures. He says, “To this day I cannot get enough of the scriptures and the Spirit.” He attends institute three days a week. Terry, his wife, and his daughter were baptized and have been to the temple. He is eternally grateful for the scriptures and the relationship that he now has with the Lord.

When her teenage son started questioning his beliefs, one mother became overwhelmed with feelings of guilt and failure. While thinking of how she could have parented differently, she received a merciful impression: “He is not only your child. I love him even more than you, and I’m not feeling guilty about him or any of my other wandering children.” From that moment on, this mother was able to let go of the guilt and focus instead on what a lovely child of God her son was.

s I was leaving a department store one day, I found a wad of cash on the ground next to our car. I grabbed it and showed my mom. We counted the money. It was about $480.
I thought of all the things I could get with that much money. However, I thought someone must really need it.
We decided to go back into the store and ask the workers to announce the license plate number of the car next to ours over the loudspeaker. Eventually a lady with small kids came to the front of the store. My mom asked her if she’d lost anything. The lady quickly checked her pockets and said she’d apparently lost some money—nearly $500. She seemed very distressed. My mom handed her the stack of cash. The lady was so thankful and wanted to know where it was found, so my mom explained that I had found it on the ground near her car door. The lady was so thankful to me for being honest that she wanted to give me $20.
It would’ve been nice to have the $20, but I felt good about letting her keep it. In For the Strength of Youth it says, “Be honest with yourself, others, and God at all times” ([2011], 19). That means to choose not to lie, steal, cheat, or deceive in any way. It also says, “When you are honest, you build strength of character that will allow you to be of great service to God and others” (19). Being honest made me feel good; I’m glad Iwas able to help this woman.

Last year during school I didn’t have the most pleasant experience. I started to feel overwhelmed with all of my schoolwork, and I started to get depressed. I stopped caring, I didn’t go to class, and I didn’t do my homework or use my time wisely to get back on track. I didn’t want to face my problems by admitting that I was struggling.
It was at a youth conference that I finally decided to address my issues. For the first time in months, I was finally able to feel the Spirit again. That was because each morning and night I took the time to be completely honest with both myself and my Father in Heaven about how I was really doing, through personal prayer and scripture study. This helped me to narrow down all the issues in my life that I could change.
Whether it was spending too much time on my phone or binge-watching the latest popular streaming TV series, I identified my biggest distractions and was able to truly focus on what matters most in life. As I continued to truthfully speak with Heavenly Father about my hardships, I felt like my honesty with God and myself gradually helped me develop more integrity. I began to act in faith and put forth the effort to work through my struggles.
I have since been able to better focus my time and efforts on worthy causes, and this has made such a big difference in my life. My struggles with depression and motivation have not ceased, but now I find peace and solace during them as I continue to read my scriptures and pray daily with real intent. I’m starting to see my issues with more of an eternal perspective. I can now say that my weaknesses have started to become strengths (see Ether 12:27).
As I’ve acted fervently upon promptings and stayed honest with myself, my Heavenly Father, and my Savior, I have seen the blessings of integrity manifested greatly in my life.

Toriki Chung Tien, 16, from Tubuai, said, “My little brother and I painted our grandfather’s graveyard house and helped our mother decorate his grave with pride and joy. Every time we talked about him and the blessings he performed, I felt his presence and my tears flowed. Thanks to the gospel and the Resurrection, I know that one day we will meet as a family and that I will find my grandpa who I miss so much.”

When I was 22 years old, I went to live with my grandmother to save money for college. I worked as a security guard, which meant that from 10:00 at night to 6:00 in the morning I walked around an empty office building, turning off coffee pots. My grandmother, however, thought I spent my nights carousing. It didn’t matter how many times I reminded her I was working; she thought I left the house every evening to hang out with all the wrong people and do all the wrong things. She worried about me constantly and told everyone she knew about her troubles. One morning I came home to find that our home teacher, Fred Van Wert, had put a sign in my bedroom saying, “Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” I loved that sign. I stared at it every morning as I fell asleep and every night when I woke up. My grandmother thought it was a warning to turn me from my wicked ways. To me, it was just a reminder that she loved me.

Genealogical research has always been difficult for me because I didn’t have the necessary information about most of my family members. However, that didn’t stop me from getting the booklet “My Family: Stories That Bring Us Together” and writing down my information about my parents and two grandmothers, who are still alive. My grandmothers also helped me gather the necessary information about my two deceased grandfathers and other important names.
I still felt like I didn’t know much about my family and couldn’t find the answers because I didn’t know who to ask without upsetting anyone. In Haitian culture, asking about relatives who have passed away can make people feel suspicious or angry. Often, the closest family members think you’re only asking so you can get something, like an inheritance, from the person who died.
For about four years, I had to make do with only the information I had while constantly thinking about how to find what was missing. Then I received a miracle that changed everything.
On September 12, 2024, I enrolled in a family history institute class, hoping to find answers to some of my genealogical questions. A few weeks later, one of our cousins visited our family. He was a distant cousin on my maternal side, and we only met him a year before, after a family member created a WhatsApp group.
During this brief visit, I talked with him and exchanged a few thoughts about spirituality. That’s when he told me he was a Latter-day Saint and was already familiar with the principles I was teaching him. I was so happy to know that I had a distant family member who had also received the blessings of the gospel. Even though he also told me he had distanced himself from the Church in recent years, I didn’t lose hope that he might one day return.
As we talked, he started telling me stories about family members I had never heard of—stories that gave me exactly the information I needed for my family history research. He also mentioned that someone in the family had written a full document about all the generations in our family. He said it had everything needed to really understand our family’s past and present.
I was both happy and surprised to discover that such a document existed in our family. However, despite my excitement, I was hesitant to ask him for the PDF version of the document, fearing I might be misunderstood. After he left, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I felt the Spirit prompting me to ask my cousin for access to it.
After several minutes of reflection and prayer, I contacted him and asked for the PDF version of the family document he had mentioned during his visit. I reminded him that it would help complete my genealogical research, which we Latter-day Saints hold in such high importance. He replied quickly and enthusiastically, saying he remembered this sacred work and was happy that I was asking for the document. Less than five minutes later, I received it.
I was amazed to find the 259-page document more complete than expected. It had all the information I needed about a key branch of my mother’s family. While reading, I saw a familiar last name: my BYU–Pathway missionary’s name. On a whim, I messaged him to ask if the names were part of his family too. He said yes, and as we talked more, we discovered we were first cousins.
The following week, I shared this with my institute class. I felt deeply grateful—not only for the family names and details but also for reconnecting with a Church member and missionary who had once helped me with school.
This experience strengthened my testimony of the power of family history work, the ongoing gathering of Israel, and the truth that God always prepares a way for those who have faith to accomplish what He commands (see 1 Nephi 3:7). With faith, I also know that God will help me find the missing information on my paternal line so I can continue completing my family tree.

We were packing for a short trip to the mountains of northern New Mexico, and I was loading the last of the children and supplies into the car. My wife appeared at the door and said cheerfully, “Well, we’re all set!” As she was pulling the locked door closed, I realized I didn’t have my keys! I yelled quickly, “DON‘T SHUT THAT … door.” Too late.
In an instant I was irritated. I said to my wife, implying she was to blame, “My keys are in the house!”
Fortunately, a forgotten open window allowed us access to the house without the loss of much time, and my feelings dissipated. I “forgave” my wife for having caused me emotional pain.
Later, as I thought of the experience, I realized I had found it convenient to blame my wife because it was a way of justifying my own failure. By my hostile feelings I could make it appear that she was the guilty one and that I was a helpless victim.
The truth is that my irritation was not due to her behavior at all. It was, instead, the product of my own unwillingness to accept the responsibility of my actions, and obviously, she hadn’t needed my forgiveness—but I certainly needed hers.
The real issue was my need to repent of the feelings I had. Had she been in some kind of transgression, then the solution to the problem would have been for her to repent and me to forgive. In this case, however, only my repentance was necessary to restore us to oneness. I understood also that my repentance, my giving up of my feelings of resentment, would have been necessary whether she had been guilty of anything or not. I saw that I could not be both unrepentant (or unforgiving) and compassionate at the same time. These are two incompatible attitudes.

Although Bernadett doesn’t hear from her family, she is grateful for letters from branch members—especially the youth—back home. And she has a lot of support around her in the mission. Her first zone leader was the missionary who had baptized her in Dunaújváros a year and a half earlier! “When he baptized me, he was a beginner missionary,” she says. “Now I was a beginner, and he was more experienced. I felt very proud to be able to work at the same time with him.”

Those friends included the son of a minister who was opposing him and the editor of The Cape Breton Island News who interviewed him and wrote favorably of him and the Latter-day Saint history and teachings in his paper. But despite an occasional good meeting in such places as the Temperance Hall, opposition increased, and finally a Reverend McLeod came directly to the home of Mr. Archibald McArthy, where Elder Millett was staying, and confronted him:

“Are you that imposter that has come to lead the people astray?” “No sir, I am a servant of the Living God and I am preaching His Gospel.” Says he, “Brother McArthy, what does the scriptures say? Though we or an angel from Heaven preach any other gospel than that we have preached, let him be accursed.” Says Brother McArthy, “This young man has preached the same gospel that Paul did. But you are preaching another gospel.” (10)

The dinner was just ready. … As he went to sit down he said, “There is a sick woman in the other room and you people profess to do miracles. Heal that woman; then I will believe in your doctrine.” Just then the door opened and the woman came out and said, “I am healed.” He said, “Yes, the devil can do miracles.”

As you might imagine, after that the minister “tried to eat but shook so bad he could not” and left, telling Mr. McArthy he should drive the missionary from his home.

As a young man, I remember my mother placing her and my father’s temple clothes on the kitchen table. She would then take a temple robe and carefully iron each pleat on an ironing board. She always took her time. This is one of my earliest memories as a youth.
At the time, I did not fully appreciate the temple, but as I watched my mother iron her and my father’s temple clothes, I could see how important the temple was to them. Their example taught me how sacred the temple is and how vital it is to “stand … in holy places, and be not moved” (Doctrine and Covenants 87:8).