Gospel Story Finder

Tired but happy after her soccer game, Gracie walked to the bleachers where her family sat. Her whole family, including her abuela (grandmother), had come to watch the game.
“You played with honor,” Gracie’s papá said as he put his arm around her shoulders.
Gracie grinned. “Gracias, Papá.”
The family piled into the car. When Papá suggested that they stop for lunch to celebrate the team’s victory, Gracie and her younger brother and sister cheered.
The restaurant was crowded, with only two empty booths available. Four players from the other team walked in after Gracie’s family and took the booth behind theirs. They began talking loudly, insulting the players on Gracie’s team.
Gracie looked at her parents and saw dismay on their faces. They were as uncomfortable as she was with the vulgar language they were hearing. She wondered what they would do.
Papá started to stand when Gracie’s abuela leaned over the back of the booth and started talking to the young people.
She didn’t say anything about their language but asked questions about their hobbies. One of the girls shyly said that she liked to knit.
“Come over to our table,” Abuela invited. “I’ll show you what I’m working on.”
The four players trooped over to join Gracie’s family at their booth. Everyone slid closer together to make room for them.
Abuela opened the knitting bag she always carried and pulled out a stocking hat. “I can make one of these in 30 minutes.”
“Could you show me how to do that sometime?” the girl asked.
“It would be my pleasure,” Abuela said.
“You’re pretty cool,” one of the boys said.
Abuela smiled. “For an old lady.”
“For anyone.” He hesitated, then looked around to Gracie’s family with an embarrassed expression. “I guess you’d like it if we didn’t talk like we did.”
Abuela patted the boy’s hand and smiled. “You are right.”
“Thanks for talking to us like we’re real people,” the girl said. “Most people ignore us.”
“You are real people. Even more important, you are each a child of God,” Abuela said. “Always remember that.”
Gracie watched a look of wonder come over the girl’s face.
The boys and girls returned to their booth and finished their meal. They left shortly after that.
Papá gave Abuela a hug. “Mamá, you are amazing. All I could think of was their bad language. I didn’t remember that they were also children of God.”
Later that night, Gracie asked Papá, “How did Abuela know what to say to those kids?”
“Your abuela treats everyone the same,” Papá said. “She knows that we’re all God’s children.”
Gracie hasn’t forgotten that lesson—nor her abuela’s example.

Stephen Obeng, the Dichemso Stake president, of Kumasi Ghana shared “One way that the devotional helped me was on how to deal with life challenges. . . . It has given me a new way to look at life and more specially to love my children and care for them as the Savior would want me to do.”

When our children begin to be able to stay in the meeting and to postpone coloring and playing with toys until after the sacrament, we as parents really try to make the service more meaningful for them. We do this in several ways.
We encourage even our littlest children to participate actively in the singing. We share a song book—letting them hold it—and point to the words and notes as we go along. At home we sing the more familiar hymns, and teach a few special ones (“Come, Ye Children of the Lord,” Hymns No. 23, and “All Creatures of Our God and King,” Hymns No. 4, are among our favorites) so that when they are sung in church it will really be a special occasion for our children. Some parents even find out in advance the songs that are to be sung each Sunday, in order to prepare their family to participate.

One priesthood leader in South America was burdened by the hunger and deprivation of the members of his little stake. Unwilling to allow the children to suffer in hunger, he found an empty plot of land and organized the priesthood to cultivate and plant it. They found an old horse and hooked up a primitive plow and began working the ground. But before they could finish, tragedy struck and the old horse died.
Rather than allow their brothers and sisters to suffer hunger, the brethren of the priesthood strapped the old plow to their own backs and pulled it through the unforgiving ground. They literally took upon themselves the yoke of the suffering and burdens of their brothers and sisters.11

Paul ran down the school steps and got into Mom’s car.
“How was school?” Mom asked.
“Great!” Paul exclaimed. “We have a new girl in our class named Cristina. She is from another country, and she is just learning to speak English.”
“I hope you will help her feel welcome,” Mom said.
“I’d like to, but how can I do that if she can’t understand me?” Paul asked.
“That’s easy,” Mom said. “Just smile.”
“Smile? What do you mean?”
“A smile can mean hello, how are you, or have a nice day. It is an international sign,” Mom said.
“I never thought of it that way before,” Paul said.
A few days later, Paul was excited to tell Mom about his day.
“Mom, remember when you told me that if I couldn’t talk to Cristina, I should just smile?” Paul asked. “Well, it worked!”
“That’s great!” Mom said. “What happened?”
“During recess I noticed that Cristina was standing by herself. She had a jump rope in her hand, but she wasn’t jumping. I wanted to be nice, but I didn’t know what to say. Then I remembered what you said and I smiled at her. She smiled back. Then she started jumping rope, and for the rest of recess she looked happy.”
“That’s wonderful!” Mom said. “I’m proud of you for being nice to Cristina.”
About a month later, Paul went to a school party at the roller-skating rink. As he skated around, he noticed that Cristina was standing alone at the side of the rink. Then there was an announcement over the loudspeaker: “Find a buddy to skate with for the next song.”
Paul skated over to Cristina. She looked surprised. He gave her a big smile and motioned for her to join him. Just like that day on the playground, she smiled brightly. As they skated with their classmates, Paul realized Mom was right. A smile means friendship in any language.

James E. Talmage ministers to a family stricken with diphtheria.

My second miracle was to watch an interpreter, Sandra Pratt, on the same screen as the guest speaker on YouTube. That had never happened before for me. I was amazed and asked how it happened. I found out that Bishop Fakatou used StreamYard (a live streaming facility used in web browsers). I immediately told my youngest deaf sister, Heather, who is married to our stake president—I wanted to make it happen in Belfast Stake, Northern Ireland.

Not long ago, one of our sons was married in the Idaho Falls Temple. We had assembled in the sealing room for the ceremony when the sealer asked me and the bride’s mother to bear our testimonies before he performed the marriage ceremony. As I spoke, I noticed that my oldest daughter was sobbing. Later, outside the temple, she told us that as I stood to speak, Matthew had entered the room accompanied by so much spiritual power that she could not control her feelings. As she was about to leave the room, lingering behind all the others, she had felt something warm touch her shoulder. A still, small voice had whispered, “That was your brother Matthew. He is the one who stood by your bed one night.”
The peace and joy this beautiful experience brought to us is inexpressible. What comfort there is in knowing that we are important to Matthew and that he cares about what we are doing, and to know that God loves us and has let us feel Matthew’s presence so that we can have that assurance.

I said something mean to a kid when he laughed at me.
On the way to school, I thought about ways to not get so upset at other people.

It gives me a good feeling to work on family history. I’m learning the names of lots of my ancestors and learning to upload their photos too. Someday when I meet them in heaven, I’ll already know them.
Aidan A., age 10, Utah, USA

I have always subscribed to the Liahona, but when I was less active I didn’t read it very often. One day I was cleaning a closet and came across some very old copies. As I looked through them, one story caught my attention. It was about a sister who had been less active for several years and had no intention of going back to church. But an inspired bishop issued her a calling, and she gave up her bad habits and returned. This story had a profound effect on me—it was the first step in my return to activity. Now, years later, the Liahona is a powerful tool in our home. The counsel, guidance, and testimonies in the magazine help us every day.
Moema Lima Salles Broedel, Brazil

Do you, with me, remember the story from childhood days of that persuasive musician, the Pied Piper of Hamelin? You will recall that he entered Hamelin and offered, for a specified sum of money, to rid the town of the vermin with which it was plagued. When the contract was agreed upon, he played his pipe and the rats came swarming from the buildings and followed him to the river, where they drowned. When the town leaders refused to pay him for his services, he returned to play his pipe and led the precious children away from the safety of their families and their homes, never to return.

Dayra—a young woman from Nuevo León, Mexico—painted words of encouragement on rocks to give to neighbors.
Photograph by Melissa Sue Lara Garza

Melissa Lara from Mexico shared how her daughter, Dayra, set a goal to deliver messages of encouragement during the COVID-19 pandemic: “She decorated stones with phrases, distributed them in her block, and left them at the door.” At one house, an older woman opened the door and asked what she was doing. After Dayra explained her project, the woman asked what phrase Dayra had for her. Dayra told her, “You can keep moving forward. We are with you.”

Melissa said, “The lady with tears in her eyes says, ‘Thank you; those are the words that I needed to hear. I’m going through a challenge and prayed. Then you came to my door to bring me a message I needed.’ I’m grateful my daughter shared her testimony. She told me, ‘Mom, I didn’t know that what I was doing had that impact.’”

I knelt by my bed to say my nightly prayers, I felt like my heart would burst—not with joy, but with loneliness and anger. This wasn’t what I had expected at all!
It was my second night at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, and I was feeling miserable. I didn’t like my companion, I didn’t like learning a new language, and I didn’t like myself much for being such a baby.
I started my prayer, but then realized that I didn’t have anything to say. Although I desperately needed someone to talk to, it just didn’t seem right to express my empty, lonely, and bitter feelings to Heavenly Father. I finally said a standard sort of prayer—“Thank you for my health and for the chance to be here”—and crawled into bed.
Why doesn’t Heavenly Father help me? I thought angrily. If he really knows how I feel before I ask, what is he waiting for?
Then I remembered the book of Enos, which I had read that afternoon. I pictured Enos kneeling in the forest, pleading for the Lord to forgive and help him. His words echoed in my mind: “I did pour out my whole soul unto God” (Enos 1:9).
Had I done the same? Had I really humbly asked for Heavenly Father’s help? I knew I hadn’t.
I knelt again. This time I had plenty to say. I told my Father how frustrated I felt, how I couldn’t learn the language, how I needed to love my companion, and how I wanted to do a good job as a missionary. I cried as I explained that I felt abandoned and that I needed his help.
“And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart” (Jer. 29:13).
This time I didn’t just say a prayer—I really prayed. Again, I felt that my heart would burst, but this time with hope, peace, and love. As I climbed into bed, I still didn’t know how things would work out, but I knew they would.

I am so grateful for the articles about President Henry B. Eyring and President Dieter F. Uchtdorf in the July 2008 Liahona. After reading these articles and praying, I received answers to questions that had been a source of distress to me. I learned that the challenges that my family had experienced had also come to President Eyring and his family, and I saw that we are making the correct choices, even though the logic of the world may say otherwise. Reading of the difficulties President Uchtdorf and his family endured led me to have more humility and gratitude for the blessings I have.
Luane Izabel Fernandes Dias, Brazil

The young apostle Erastus Snow landed in Copenhagen in June of 1850 as the first mission president to an area that became one of the most flourishing missions of the nineteenth century. By August, fifteen people had been baptized. A branch with fifty members was organized in September. From mission headquarters in the Danish capital other elders were sent to preach the gospel in Norway and Sweden.

The next year, Elder Snow arranged to have the Book of Mormon published in Danish, and in 1852 the Doctrine and Covenants was also printed in the same language. The Danes were the first people after the English to have the Nephite story available in their native tongue.

In spite of great difficulties, 600 Saints were baptized during Elder Snow’s twenty-two months in Denmark. Correspondence to Salt Lake concerning the mission read, “Persecution continues in all its glory, and helps make Saints every day.” Some Church members were manhandled and some were even imprisoned.

But in spite of the harsh treatment baptisms continued. A number of converts to the Church went to America to be with the Saints there. It was not until 1974 that the Church of Jesus Christ was recognized as a Christian religion by the Danish government.

One of the songs that has disappeared was number 163, “Don’t Kill the Little Birds,” and I remember many times singing with a loud voice:
Don’t kill the little birds,
That sing on bush and tree,
All thro’ the summer days,
Their sweetest melody.
Don’t shoot the little birds!
The earth is God’s estate,
And he provideth food
For small as well as great.
(Deseret Songs, 1909, no. 163.)
I had a sling and I had a flipper. I made them myself, and they worked very well. It was my duty to walk the cows to the pasture a mile away from home. There were large cottonwood trees lining the road, and I remember that it was quite a temptation to shoot the little birds “that sing on bush and tree,” because I was a pretty good shot and I could hit a post at fifty yards’ distance or I could hit the trunk of a tree. But I think perhaps because I sang nearly every Sunday, “Don’t Kill the Little Birds,” I was restrained. The second verse goes:
Don’t kill the little birds
Their plumage wings the air,
Their trill at early morn
Makes music ev’ry-where.
What tho’ the cherries fall
Half eaten from the stem?
And berries disappear,
In garden, field, and glen?
This made a real impression on me, so I could see no great fun in having a beautiful little bird fall at my feet.

Elsa Jacobsen had a problem. After years of working hard in school and excelling in the classroom, on the student council, and in the ballet studio, she had created a situation for herself that she didn’t quite know how to handle. Several top universities, including Stanford University located near Palo Alto, California, were vying to have Elsa as a student. All were great schools, some were offering attractive scholarship packages, and any of them would provide lots of great learning opportunities.
“I finally narrowed it down,” says 18-year-old Elsa, “and after a lot of fasting and prayer I received a peaceful confirmation about coming to Stanford. From the time I arrived here, I knew why. I love it here.”

One of the greatest baseball players to ever live had a nickname that would have embarrassed most boys. His real name was George H. Ruth, but he was called Babe. Before Babe Ruth came along, his nickname stood for baby. Even though he was little more than a babe when he entered professional athletics, Babe Ruth soon turned his nickname into a symbol of strength and power.

We may be relatively small in number, but as members of this Church we can reach across these widening gaps. We know the power of Christ-centered service that brings together God’s children regardless of their spiritual or their economic status. One year ago the First Presidency invited us to participate in a day of service celebrating 75 years of the welfare program, which helps people to become more self-sufficient. Millions of hours were contributed by our members all around the world.