Gospel Story Finder

Later I read some writings of the Prophet Joseph Smith and was interested in his philosophy about delegating and stewardship. On one occasion the Prophet wrote to some of the members of the Quorum of the Twelve who were doing missionary work in England. They had asked the Prophet for advice. He gave such counsel as he deemed proper and then wrote the following: “There are many things of much importance, on which you ask counsel, but which I think you will be perfectly able to decide upon, as you are more conversant with the peculiar circumstances than I am: and I feel great confidence in your united wisdom; therefore you will excuse me for not entering into detail. If I should see anything that is wrong, I would take the privilege of making known my mind to you and pointing out the evil.” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, comp. Joseph Fielding Smith, Deseret Book Co., 22nd Printing, 1973, p. 176.)

When my mom was pregnant, she found out that she had cancer. It was hard for my family because we were afraid that she and the baby might die.
My dad gave my mom a priesthood blessing, and my family and I prayed that Mom and the baby would be OK. My mom is now much better, and my baby brother is as healthy as can be.

“The decision I made to go on a mission was the greatest one I made in my life,” says BYU’s star player, Mike Smith. “I made my decision to serve a mission many years ago. I made the decision before other pressures could influence me.”
And the pressure did come. Mike was considered to be one of the best players to come out of any California high school and many large universities wanted him. Mike chose BYU, and in his first year, he was a starting player 27 of 31 games. But id didn’t bother him at all to leave his sports career behind for a couple of years.
There were those who didn’t understand, however. One man in particular, a long-time fan of Mike’s from his hometown, couldn’t understand why Mike would run the risk of sacrificing his career to serve a mission. Mike wrote his non-Latter-day Saint friend a letter from the mission field in which he bore his testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, the Book of Mormon, and the prophet of the Church. Mike also told him he felt it was a privilege rather than a sacrifice to serve. His friend was so affected by mike’s testimony that he took the letter to a local Catholic priest, who happened to be interested in Mike’s basketball career too. The priest, in turn, read the letter in mass every day for a week, saying it was an example of a youth who was doing all he could to serve the Lord.
“Nothing that happens on the basketball court can compare with experiences in the mission field,” Mike explains. “The feelings you experience on the basketball court are so limited, so temporary. You can make a game-winning shot and the fans love you, but the next play you might accidentally bounce the ball off your foot and that great feeling is gone. But the feelings that you have in the mission field, where the Spirit touches your heart, you’ll never forget.”

The Consequences of Our Actions
Shortly after my sweetheart, Devonna, and I were married, she shared with me a story about how she learned in her youth this important doctrine that we are free to choose but that we are not free to choose the consequences of our actions. With the help of my daughter Shelly, I would like to relate Sister Arnold’s experience:
“When I was 15 years old, I often felt that there were too many rules and commandments. I wasn’t sure that a normal, fun-loving teenager could enjoy life with so many restrictions. Furthermore, the many hours spent working on my father’s ranch were seriously dipping into my time with my friends.
“This particular summer, one of my jobs was to ensure that the cows grazing on the mountain pasture did not break through the fence and get into the wheat field. A cow grazing on the growing wheat can bloat, causing suffocation and death. One cow in particular was always trying to stick her head through the fence. One morning, as I was riding my horse along the fence line checking on the cattle, I found that the cow had broken through the fence and gotten into the wheat field. To my dismay, I realized that she had been eating wheat for quite some time because she was already bloated and looked much like a balloon. I thought, ‘You stupid cow! That fence was there to protect you, yet you broke through it and you have eaten so much wheat that your life is in danger.’
“I raced back to the farmhouse to get my dad. However, when we returned, I found her lying dead on the ground. I was saddened by the loss of that cow. We had provided her with a beautiful mountain pasture to graze in and a fence to keep her away from the dangerous wheat, yet she foolishly broke through the fence and caused her own death.
“As I thought about the role of the fence, I realized that it was a protection, just as the commandments and my parents’ rules were a protection. The commandments and rules were for my own good. I realized that obedience to the commandments could save me from physical and spiritual death. That enlightenment was a pivotal point in my life.”
Elder Mervyn B. Arnold of the Seventy

Money, or the lack of it, became a major issue. My mom worked two jobs. When my best friend wanted me to go shopping, I was too ashamed to tell her we barely had enough money for food—let alone clothes.
Seeing how bad I felt, my mom taught herself to sew and made me a few outfits. As good as her intentions were, none of the outfits turned out very well. She made me a pair of pants that were not only too short, but they were such a bright color that I felt self-conscious. As much as I didn’t want to wear them or any of my homemade clothes, I also didn’t want to hurt Mom’s feelings.
The day I wore those pants to school still stands out in my mind as one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. Mike, one of the most popular guys at school, always took time out of his busy schedule to make fun of my homemade outfits. The day I wore those pants I gave not only Mike but everyone else something to laugh about.

Growing up with her brother also helped Cathy develop sensitivity to others. Her mother said, “I’d come home from work tired, and Bobby would say he wanted to go meet his friends. I’d tell him I was just too tired and couldn’t get him dressed. Then Cathy would say, ‘If I dress him and get him ready to go, would you take him?’
“Christ told us we need to become like little children. So many of these people have that sweetness like little children. They never hold a grudge or lash out at people,” added Sister Gurley.

Thank you for publishing the article “What a Way to Grow” (Aug. 1998). I couldn’t find anything to do, so I grabbed that issue, flipped it open, and there it was. It touched my heart deeply. For the first time I was actually excited to start seminary. Thanks to that article I’ve had a change of heart and will now go into seminary with a happy attitude.
Trina ParkinsonWest Bountiful, Utah

Brother Collins Ntow shared his feelings: “Coming back from my mission, I had a little idea as to what to do to get a hand-making job. How could I do something to help me focus on my education? But YSA Gathering Place has given me that assistance.”

One Sunday morning I was asked if I’d like to have home teachers visit me. I had just recently been divorced and was having a hard time facing my new life as a single mother with two small children. I said I would appreciate a visit. At the time, I was feeling bitter about my situation and felt alone in my struggles.
The following week, two good brothers came to my home. During their visit they asked the usual questions and shared a short gospel message with my family.
Then these good brothers asked, “Sister Nereida, what can we do to help you?”
Without thinking much about it, I told them the light bulbs were out above the stairs going up to the second floor. I had replacement bulbs, but I couldn’t reach high enough to change them, and I worried about using a ladder on the stairs. I also told them that I had no working lights in the backyard.
Right away they got up. One went out to his car and returned with a tool chest. He was almost six and a half feet (1.9 m) tall, so he climbed the stairs and changed the bulb without any problem. Meanwhile, his companion went to the backyard and noticed the wire connection was reversed. In no time he was able to fix it.
How grateful I have been to my home teachers over the years for their simple act of kindness, love, and dedication and for the wonderful lesson they taught me. My home teachers were truly angels who not only brought light to our home but also brought the peace, hope, and safety of the gospel, which brings light to any kind of darkness.

I spent three years in that ward where I had initially felt so uncomfortable. My last 18 months were a wonderful, fulfilling time. Sometimes I faced difficult trials, but I also felt an assurance that the Lord was mindful of me and that the painful experiences were for my growth.
By the time I left that ward, I not only felt loved, I also felt trusted and honored by the members there. I had had many humbling, spiritual experiences as well as opportunities to serve, to speak, and to teach. The ward had become a cherished family.
Julie remains a dear friend. Her gift for radiating light continues to touch my life and the lives of many others. Her example showed me how to reach for the Savior, the source of the light. And this has given me the means to lift and love and comfort many people. I believe that if I continue to progress, someday I, too, will be filled with his love and receive his image in my countenance.

Service and missionary work are serious business for the Hankins. James’s mum started a missionary savings account for him when he was young. “I’m happy that my parents are helping me go on a mission,” James says, but he doesn’t leave all the saving to his parents. James has made considerable contributions to this account. Not only does he work Saturdays on Whitby Pier in a toy shop, but he also helps his sister and dad on a daily paper round (paper route). He delivers leaflets each month, and to top that off, he also offers to deliver leaflets for the local businesses in his area.

Of his missionary fund, James says, “I’ve got about 3,000 pounds [approximately 4,557 U.S. dollars] already saved up. And that’s by going to people I know and asking if they want leaflets delivered.”

First, my brothers and sisters, my gratitude to the prophet and his counselors for this call. To them, to Elder Richards and the members of the First Quorum of the Seventy I pledge that my little footnote on the page of the quorum’s history will read clearly that I wore out my life in helping to spread Jesus’ gospel and helping to regulate his church. To worthy predecessor presidents, my admiration. Thirty years ago President Dilworth Young ordained me a seventy, but only after extracting a promise that I would preach the gospel the rest of my life. His stern demeanor was such that I felt I’d been asked to jump off a tall building. I went over the side saluting. Now I salute that same selfless, sweet seventy, President Young, once again.

Football came to our country town later than most. The school board had neither the money for equipment nor a coach. Then the great day arrived. Our high school principal was able to buy twelve inexpensive football outfits, except the expensive cleated football shoes (we used our basketball shoes), and our coach was recruited from the faculty because he had witnessed a game.
We learned a few simple plays, how to tackle—or so we thought—and set off for our first game with Twin Falls, the previous year’s Idaho state champions.
We dressed and went out on the field to warm up. Their school band started to play (they had more students in the band than we had in our entire high school), and then through the gates came their team. The twelve of us—a full team of eleven plus one all-round substitute—watched in amazement as they kept coming through the gates—all thirty-nine of them in full uniform.
The game was most interesting! To say it was a learning experience is rather mild. After two plays we didn’t have any desire to have the ball—so we would kick it, and soon they would score. When they got the ball, they would run a baffling play and score. Our problem was to get rid of the ball—it was less punishing.
In the final minutes of the game they became a little reckless. A wild pass fell into the arms of Clifford Lee, who was playing halfback with me. He was startled, not knowing for sure what to do—until he saw the “Dallas Cowboys” thundering after him. Then he knew what to do. He was fast. He wasn’t running for points, but for his life! Clifford made a touchdown; six points went up on the board. The final score—106 to 6! We really didn’t deserve the six points, but with our torn shirts and socks and our bruises, we took them anyway.
A learning experience? Of course! An individual or a team must be prepared. In all things success depends upon previous preparation.

Four days later a winter storm dumped eighteen centimeters of snow overnight. Dad woke me up in the morning, pushed a snow shovel into my hands, and told me to clear the snow away from the house. He thoughtfully reminded me that I would have to hurry to get to school on time. I grumbled most of the time but worked fast to get out of the cold. I was about to hurry into the warmth of the house to eat breakfast when I glanced down the street in Brother Watts’s direction. The house was dark; the snow around his house was undisturbed. For a moment I pondered. Then I did one of the craziest things I’d ever done in my life. I walked down the street and began shoveling the snow from Brother Watts’s house.
“What are you doing, boy?” a voice growled behind me when I was about half finished with the job.
Startled, I turned to see Willard Watts standing at his front door. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his old jacket, and his head was scrunched into the coat’s collar.
I shrugged. “Just shoveling a little snow to stay in good shape.” I banged the shovel on the cement and stomped my feet.
“I clear my own snow. I can’t pay you, if that’s what you’re planning.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I answered, returning to my shoveling.
He watched for a moment and then turned back into the house. I went on clearing the snow. As I worked, I wondered what made Willard behave the way he did. I soon finished clearing the snow, put the shovel over my shoulder, and headed for home.
“Hey, boy,” Brother Watts called to me from the front door. He came down the steps and held three dollar bills in his hand. “This is all the change I have,” he mumbled. “I usually do my own work.”
I looked at the three dollars. “I didn’t do it for money.”
He seemed puzzled. “You’re Tom Jordan’s son, aren’t you?”
I nodded yes.
“Did he tell you to do this?”
I shook my head and said something about being late for school.
Three other times I cleaned off the snow in front of Brother Watts’s house. Each time I finished he came out with a few one dollar bills and held them out to me. Each time I politely refused them.
The last time I cleaned off the snow was the end of March after a storm had dumped quite a bit on the ground. He came out with a twenty-dollar bill. “Take it,” he insisted, thrusting it towards me.
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m doing this to get myself in good physical condition,” I said.
“Who makes you do this?” he demanded.
We stared at each other for several seconds without speaking. It was a question I had asked myself. Part of the reason went back to the fact that everyone had just crossed him off as one more negative Church statistic. Ever since that first morning I’d felt sorry for Willard Watts, living alone in his house, just waiting for life to end. Everybody deserved more than that out of life. It was possible that the next time he went to church might be to attend his own funeral. “I guess I just thought you—” I hesitated, chewing on my lower lip. “I better be going,” I mumbled. “Don’t want to be late for school.”
Willard pulled out a cigarette, put it in the corner of his mouth, and lit it. He inhaled deeply, and as he exhaled he muttered, almost as though he didn’t want me to hear, “Well, thanks.”

On our last trip to Great Britain, I had a chance to visit with an eighteen-year-old young man who has had close association with many missionaries in the field. As I was going to speak to a large number of missionaries in the next few days, I asked this friend what he thought was the most important trait missionaries needed in order to be successful. His answer was simple. “They must know how to work. Many come on a mission never knowing how to work.” It has been my experience over the years that feeble knees are not a by-product of work and commitment to goals.

As this eighteen-year-old has observed, we can strengthen feeble knees of others and ourselves by going to work.

Maren Dickens, 17, of the Palmyra stake, has been in the pageant four times. She says the pageant “has affected my testimony tremendously. It’s really spiritual.”

Artist Glen Hawkins painted his ancestor Ann Jewell Rowley, a widow, pulling a handcart through the snow with the help of her seven children, who traveled with her in the Willie company.

My friend at school said a bad word. I asked him to please use good words.
Rachel K., age 6, New South Wales, Australia

On warm summer evenings, when the wind is just right,
Daddy and I like to fly our kite.
We go up on the hill, where there aren’t any trees—
Just Daddy, and I, and the strong summer breeze.
We run into the wind, holding on to the string,
And our kite rises up like a bird on the wing.
Up, up, up it goes, swift and high,
Into the puffy clouds and summer sky.
It rises and soars; it dips and it sways
Up high where the birds and the airplanes play.
And Daddy and I sometimes like to pretend
That we’re riding there, ’way up high on the wind.
When we pull our kite down, we lie on the grass
And look at the white fluffy clouds as they pass.
Then we walk home together, as the day turns to night—
Daddy, and I, and our wonderful kite.

I once fasted for an older relative of mine. He was having back problems and was going to have surgery. A great deal of my extended family in the area fasted for his welfare. Whenever I felt hungry throughout the day, I’d remember him, and all of my selfishness would slide away. After the day of fasting, we had a large family home evening with my extended family. Thankfully, he healed fairly quickly. His back still hurt a lot, but he could do so much more than before. I said a prayer, thanking Heavenly Father for watching over him.