Gospel Story Finder

A Young Women leader in the Provo Utah Edgemont North Stake said that encouraging the girls to apply the values to their lives has had some wonderful results. One girl now has a better understanding of her divine nature after setting a goal to receive her patriarchal blessing. Her new sense of self-esteem and purpose have added new dimensions to her life.

I sat, legs crossed, in my dorm room. My roommate’s bed was empty because she had gone away for the weekend, so I started to fold my clean clothes on it. I glanced up at our big wall clock. Finally it was a quarter to three. I picked up my keys and headed to the campus mail boxes. When I got back to my room, I sank to the floor, let a pile of mail fall to my side, and ripped open a far more important letter.
Keller had written me back, finally. Before when I had written to him, he made it a point to answer quickly. The news in this last letter must have really shocked him. I could understand that. It had taken me almost two weeks to get my thoughts together and finally write the letter. I had written him almost two months ago about our father’s health problems. Neither of us had been particularly close to Dad, but when I found out he had cancer, I knew Keller would want to know immediately. This letter also provided me an opportunity to ask a question that I had needed an answer to for a long time.
Ever since Keller and I were little we knew only two things about Dad, that he loved Mom and that he loved our house. He loved Mom because of her patience, her wisdom, her strength, and her beauty—both inside and out. He loved our house because he had grown up there; his father had died there. Keller and I sometimes wondered if Dad loved us or the house more. We knew he loved Mom the most, but his love for the house was always a mystery.
Our family had lived in that house since I was a baby. It was an old house and had lots of problems. The basement flooded when we had heavy rains, and the well dried up at least once every summer. The house was out in the middle of nowhere, so in the winter our road didn’t even get plowed. Dad bought a tractor and every morning, before he went to work, he plowed out our whole road, from one end to the other.
Keller and I didn’t mind being out in the middle of nowhere though. We used that as an excuse to go wherever we wanted and do whatever we wanted. We built dams in the creek, forts in the woods, and clay slides in the front yard. The house was perfect for two adventurous children like us, and it was perfect for Dad too. Only Mom seemed to be bothered by the frequent problems, but she never complained. She kept herself almost too busy, planting and maintaining our gardens, pruning our apple trees, and raising two fearless explorers. She handled it all so well that no one even realized that she was sick. She kept it from everyone until she was too bad off to continue hiding it. She still wanted to do her jobs, and finally Dad had to take off work just to keep her in bed.
Every day Dad would go into her room and find out what she wanted him to do that day. He even let her tell him how to do the jobs. He knew perfectly well how to weed a garden, but he let her tell him how to do it anyway. The last instructions that she gave him were to help me with my bath and to make Keller take his. She died when Keller was seven and I was five.
Dad lost his job when he asked for the rest of the summer off to take care of us. They said he had already taken too much time. Dad spent close to five months hunting for a new job. He wanted one close enough to our house so that we wouldn’t have to move. He got a position at an architectural firm 71 miles away. He spent more time there than at home.
As we grew up, living in the country lost its appeal. All the problems with the house were a lot worse when there was no one around to fix them. When Dad came home each night, he would fix dinner, take a shower, and then go straight to bed. It seemed that almost overnight a once huge house grew too small, and Keller and I no longer wanted to explore. Neither of us had bothered to replant the gardens once we were old enough to do the work, and Mom’s apple trees had gone years without pruning. All the magic and life that Mom had brought to the house had died with her. Since Dad worked in the city it just made sense that we should live closer to it. If we moved we could get a newer house and not have to worry about the problems. He continued to commute, however, no matter how much we argued in favor of moving.
“That reminds me of your question, which I didn’t think was as strange as you thought I would. I even think I have an answer for you that might actually make sense. Part of it I learned here on my mission.
“I realized long ago that Dad doesn’t firmly believe in God because no one has ever reached him with the message; neither you nor I could do it. I think his house is the only place on earth that he feels connected to his father. After Mom died, I think he felt the same thing there with her. He doesn’t know about the afterlife, or doesn’t believe in it, so earthly connections are very important to him.
At that moment I understood just how much our house meant to Dad. It meant as much to him as the Church meant to Keller and me. It’s the same for anyone who has ever valued anything. From the moment I joined the Church I began a journey toward eternity. Before I reach my destination, I’ll travel through life and have great trials and sacrifices. But when I arrive home to be with my Heavenly Father, the value of being there will be a thousand times greater than the value of all I might ever have possibly had to give up.

One Sunday, right in the middle of the branch sacrament meeting, a woman walked in the door off the street. She was a homeless woman who was wearing dirty, ragged clothes, coughing, choking, and blowing her nose into a filthy handkerchief. In a loud, hoarse voice she said, “I want to sing! I want to pray!” and walked right to the front row and sat down next to a member who was wearing a white blouse, leaned against her, and laid her head on her shoulder. The member immediately put her arms around this guest and held her in her arms throughout the remainder of the meeting. It happened that the speaker had been talking about the parable of the good Samaritan as the woman had come in. As this woman coughed and choked, the speaker continued telling of the parable. As he came to the end of his talk and was quoting a relevant scripture, suddenly, in a loud voice, this homeless woman finished giving the verse that the speaker had begun. In talking of this after sacrament meeting with the speaker, we thought it had probably been a long time since someone had affectionately put an arm around our visitor. We wondered what better illustration you could have of the parable of the good Samaritan than what we had just seen, and we were reminded of the Savior’s words that preceded His telling of that parable, “Thou shalt love … thy neighbour as thyself.”

The Wind Is Not a River Sasan and Sidak’s mother had died, and their father had gone to the mainland to learn new ways for the future. Now their grandmother had died. She had taught them, especially Sasan, who was older than Sidak, how to live the old way. When they saw the enemy capture all the rest of their village, it was good that they knew the old ways. … Arnold A. Griese8–11 years

Here is one letter that points out many of the problems with starting to think seriously about one person too soon:
“When I was 14, I decided that pairing up with one ‘special’ boyfriend wasn’t ‘dating,’ so it was okay. It began as a way to be more popular, but soon I was lying to my parents so I could spend time alone with him. Over the ten months we were together, my testimony was slowly weakened, and eventually I had problems with the law of chastity. Since then I’ve talked with my bishop and repented, but it was a long, difficult, and painful process. I hurt myself, my parents, and the Lord. It opened the door to many other temptations bit by bit and made the important things in life seem foolish, and the wrong things appear right. My parents and bishop showed me nothing but love as they tried to help me return to the Lord’s favor. How much I wish I’d had the strength when I was 14 to stand alone and be different!”

A Mission Call—I’m so excited! I came home from classes today to find a letter from the First Presidency. Quickly opening it I discovered that I would be going to California. I wept joyously. Feeling so insignificant in His sight, I asked, “Why me?” The blessings of God seem so unbelievable.
Most Important—My first two years of college have been highly successful, but the most important thing is that I was going off 400 miles away to a Bible college, but circumstances intervened to allow me to discover the truth 13 miles from home. Now, in a week, I will leave on a mission to serve the Lord. I will be a minister.

In the Personal Progress book, one of the requirements is to get closer to a family member and write kind letters to them for two weeks. I was having a hard time getting along with my brother, so I decided to give it a try. In the first note that I sent, I explained to him that I didn’t like the way we were treating each other and that I would like to work harder on trying to be nicer to one another. Right after the first note I sent, I found a note from my brother explaining that he felt like that too. After that our friendship got a whole lot better, just from a simple loving note.
M’Lynn Y., 13, Idaho

I was very sick when I was pregnant with my youngest child. But one afternoon, my daughter wanted to go hiking. My husband told her I was too sick to go. My daughter prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help me feel better and promptly got ready to go. Minutes later, my husband was surprised to see me awake. He told me about our daughter’s prayer, and her sincere faith inspired me to try to hike. Somehow, I made it to the top of the mountain.

For example, Víctor and Norma Soardo and their children, Lilian, age 12, and Marcos, age 15, were baptized in 1997. The Soardos are grateful for both the warm welcome and the lessons they received in how to be good Latter-day Saints. “From the time I came to know the Church, my life has had surprise after surprise,” says Brother Soardo. “Good surprises!” he adds, referring to his amazement at being called to serve in the branch presidency.

Shortly after the family’s baptism, the car Víctor used to make a living was demolished in an accident. It left the family without means of support, and soon Víctor became desperate. He had little money with which to buy a car.

One Monday evening it was his turn to plan family home evening. He gathered his wife and children around him and said: “Instead of our regular lesson, let’s pray tonight. Let’s put this problem before the Lord.” They took turns in petitioning the Lord.

“A few days later I heard about someone with a car for sale,” Víctor recalls. “As I drove down a street looking for the address, I passed an old truck parked by the side of the road, and the idea came to me to stop and ask the owner if he would be interested in selling it.” The owner was interested, and the two bargained unsuccessfully for several minutes before the owner finally asked Víctor how much money he had. The owner agreed to sell his truck to the Soardos for half his original price.

“With this vehicle, I support my family. I pay my tithing. The truck is so much better for my needs,” says a grateful Víctor. “I never thought I could own a truck. The Lord knew better what I needed.” Learning the specifics of how to live as a Latter-day Saint helped the Soardos face this and other challenges.

Partly as a result of continued attention after baptism, both Salta and Jujuy, as well as other areas in Argentina, have enjoyed significant growth in the last few years. This growth has produced a number of new leaders like Víctor Soardo, now serving as president of the Guemes Branch, Salta West stake. “About 80 percent of our leadership here in the north comes from first-generation members,” explains Pedro López, an orthodontist who joined the Church at age 25 and was called as Jujuy stake president at the age of 29. Helping converts adjust to their new Latter-day Saint lifestyle has significantly strengthened the wards and stakes in Salta and Jujuy.

In May of 1974, I was with Brother John H. Groberg in the Tongan islands. We had an appointment to visit the king of Tonga, and we met with him in a formal session. We exchanged the normal pleasantries. However, before we left, John Groberg said something that was out of the ordinary. He said, “Your Majesty, you should really become a Mormon and your subjects as well, for then your problems and their problems would largely be solved.”

The king smiled broadly and answered, “John Groberg, perhaps you’re right.”

I thought of the Apostle Paul before Agrippa. I thought of Agrippa’s response to Paul’s testimony: “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.”4 Brother Groberg had the courage to bear his testimony to a king.

Anna Kate scuffed the toes of her sneakers into the dirt and watched a cloud of dust puff up around her ankles. Her wonderful week with Grandpa and Grandma was almost over. It had been great fun, especially the part here at Aunt Pru’s cabin. Just yesterday Grandpa had taken Anna Kate to his favorite fishing spot on the Provo River, and she had caught her very first fish!
But this morning had been a disaster. First, she had slept late, and Grandpa had gone fishing without her. Then Grandma and Aunt Pru just wanted to visit in the kitchen about dull, grown-up things. Anna Kate ended up sitting on the front porch by herself, feeling bored and lonely. Worse yet, tomorrow Mommy and Daddy were coming to take her home.
Suddenly she jumped to her feet. “I’m not going to spend my last day sitting around!” she thought. “I’ll find Grandpa by myself. I know the way.” She skipped across the front yard and walked down the lane to the canyon road, looking carefully both ways before crossing. Soon she came to a small bridge over the river and hurried across to the railroad tracks that ran between Heber City and Provo, Utah. This was the secret to finding Grandpa. Cross the river and turn left, then follow the railroad tracks to a huge rock. On the other side of the rock was the fishing spot.
Anna Kate walked a long time. Where was the rock? It hadn’t seemed so far with Grandpa, and somehow the railroad tracks seemed even lonelier than the front porch. Looking for a happier thought, she remembered her baptism day. How proud she had been when her parents told her she was old enough to make wise decisions and could spend a week away from home. Plodding along, she began to wonder if running off without asking Grandma had been a wise decision.
To cheer herself up, she started singing her favorite Primary songs. She was halfway through the first verse of “Give, Said the Little Stream” when she heard a noise in a bush by the side of the tracks. It sounded a bit like a loud cricket, and Anna Kate stopped singing to listen. She decided to look for the cricket, but before she could take a single step, a voice in her head said, “RUN!” She didn’t know who was talking to her, but she didn’t have to be told twice. She ran.
She was out of breath when she finally found Grandpa fishing by the river. He looked up in surprise. “Does Grandma know you’re here?”
Anna Kate shook her head. “I’m sorry. I should have asked her.”
Grandpa smiled kindly and started putting away his fishing tackle. “Let’s hustle back to the cabin before she has a chance to worry.”
They hadn’t walked far when they saw Anna Kate’s older cousin William standing by the tracks. “There you are,” he said. “Grandma sent me to find you, and it’s a good thing.” He pointed to a bush a ways off. When Anna Kate and Grandpa got closer, they saw a huge rattlesnake with a diamond pattern down its back hiding there. “I didn’t dare let it out of my sight with you out here alone,” William said.
After that, Anna Kate always told someone where she was going. It was a long time, though, before she told anyone about the loud cricket or the voice that had saved her life. She would realize later that it had been the Holy Ghost. She already knew that it was a voice to be obeyed.

Later I read an article in the Easter paper of one of the largest cities in South America. The author was a minister with letters after his name. I read the entire article and in the half a page given front page notice, he never mentioned the Lord of heaven and earth, the Redeemer, the Savior. He always spoke of “Jesus.” He quoted two or three scriptures which mentioned Jesus of Nazareth as being more than the carpenter’s son, but never in his writing did he ever give any other title to the Christ who shed his precious blood for him.

This story happened in the USA.
Bradley dumped another cup of sand into his bucket. He was going to need lots!
His school’s science fair was soon. Bradley was making a model that showed how tsunamis worked. He learned that a tsunami is a big wave of water caused by an earthquake in the ocean. He wanted his project to be perfect. Maybe he would win a prize!
When his bucket was full, Bradley gathered some sticks. Then he found a plastic bin and some small toy houses in the basement.
Bradley poured the sand into the bin to make the land. He carefully placed the houses and trees. Next came the exciting part—the water! Once he poured it in, he could push a piece of cardboard through the water to create the wave.
But then he made a big mistake. He poured in too much water! The houses were flooded—and he hadn’t even made the wave yet. The wet sand made a goopy, muddy mess.
Bradley called to his mom in the kitchen. “What should I do now? I put too much water in.”
“That’s OK. You can just start over,” said Mom. “Let’s do it together and measure a little at a time.”
“OK.” Bradley hung his head and went outside to get more sand.
This time they carefully measured the right amount of water and poured it in. Bradley moved the cardboard and watched the waves crash against the sand. It worked!
Next Bradley and Mom worked on his poster. He started writing some fun facts about tsunamis. But the words didn’t fit on the page.
“I don’t want to write it all over again!” Bradley said. His head began to ache.
“We don’t have to rewrite all of it,” said Mom. “We can just reword it so it will fit on the page.”
Bradley groaned. His poster did not look at all like he wanted it to. “I don’t want to do that. It will look bad if the words don’t fit perfectly.”
“Learning can be hard.” Mom gave him a hug. “Sometimes we make mistakes. But the important thing is that we don’t give up. Heavenly Father wants us to keep trying. So let’s take a break and finish in the morning.”
The next morning, they finished his poster. It wasn’t perfect, but Bradley felt a little better about it.
Finally the day of the science fair came. Mom dropped Bradley off at school. “Remember,” she said, “you worked hard on your project and learned a lot. And that’s what matters.”
Bradley carried his project to the big gym. It was full of projects and posters. All the fourth-graders were sitting down and waiting for their turn to show their project.
Soon it was Bradley’s turn. His heart beat fast as he walked to the front. What if everything went wrong?
Bradley pushed the cardboard through the water and showed the judges how the waves crashed against the land.
“What causes those big waves in the ocean?” one of the judges asked.
“The big waves are caused by . . .” Bradley’s mind went blank. “I can’t remember. But I can tell you some fun facts about tsunamis.” He read them the facts on his poster.
After school Bradley climbed into the car with his project.
“How did it go?” Mom asked.
“Not exactly the way I wanted.” Bradley smiled. “But I did my best and kept trying.”

Carl (names have been changed) had recently been assigned to minister to Gus. Trying to find some common ground, Carl learned that Gus shared his interest in writing. So Carl invited him to go to the meeting of a local writers’ group. In the end, neither of them ever had time for the group, but the invitation led to a great conversation, which led to going to lunch together every few weeks—which helped form a friendship that Gus could rely on when later he needed help.

As more and more holy temples have been built across the earth, I have seen the blessings that come into the lives of the members. In 2008 I witnessed the joy on the faces of a couple from Ukraine as they told me about going to Freiberg, Germany, to receive their temple ordinances. The trip to the temple was a 27-hour bus ride each way for these dedicated members, and they were not able to go often. They were thrilled that the Kyiv Ukraine Temple would soon be completed and they would be able to attend much more often. That temple is now open, and thousands enjoy the blessings there.

Elder James Swift, of England Leeds, Manchester, Scotland/Ireland Service Mission, remarked, “At the time of the first two band members leaving for their missions we had received lots of interest from record labels, managers and agents wanting to get us on their rosters. But the boys knew that it was their time to go and serve, so we turned down all those amazing offers and trusted in the Lord. Leaving my music aspirations behind and leaving university was a difficult decision to make. I won’t lie but I was very reluctant, even frustrated by the fact that this was the time I felt so impressed to go and serve. However, I have been blessed already beyond measure. I’ve been placed in the most perfect mission, with some of the greatest missionaries the Church has to offer. I’m truly grateful for the chance I have had to show my love for the Saviour by making these sacrifices and ultimately devoting myself to His ministry.”

Shoemaker Martin This classic story of the shoemaker who served others while he waited for Christ to visit him is what Christmas is all about.Leo Tolstoyall ages

One day when strolling down the road on which the Bridlington meeting house stands, my mind not taken up so much as usual with the needs of the day, I took to looking at the buildings that line this very ancient of streets.
My first observation was a surprising one, when I realised there had been eight churches of different denominations on the street at some point. Many were still there, but now used for different purposes than their builders intended. I then began to wonder at what had been on the sites of new buildings squeezed between the Victorian shops and houses. My curiosity aroused, I made a visit to our local studies library, and returned many times, as I became absorbed in the history of this road that had existed since pre-Christian times.
I was fascinated and felt that maybe others of the town would be also. This thought coincided with an invitation to attend a meeting to discuss ideas for the year’s Heritage Open Days (every September thousands of volunteers in towns and cities across the country organise events to celebrate Britain’s heritage and culture). I went along and volunteered to give a talk and put on an exhibition on the history of the street. Conscious that the biggest problem in doing so is finding a location, I had previously approached the Bishop and been given permission to use the church building.
A further thought had already come into my mind- why not extend the event to include a chapel Open House? Saddened by the missionaries’ lack of success in getting people to come into the building, I felt that putting on something of a nonreligious nature could be the encouragement people needed and hopefully once in the building, they might ask questions, pick up leaflets and read things on notice boards.
The foyer had the history of the Bridlington Ward, the Church’s involvement in humanitarian aid, emergency preparedness and ‘Just Serve.’ The notice board in the baptismal font told of Christ’s original Church, the apostasy and the restoration; and our belief in the need for baptism and the form it should take. Displays on the work of Relief Society, the Young Men and Young Women’s programmes and Primary, filled the classrooms, and the Elders Quorum were on hand to give help and advice on family history and show a film about one brother’s experience of finding out more about his family than merely their names and dates.
With excellent advertising on social media, in local newspapers and free events booklets supplied by the Heritage Week organisation, seventy people attended. No one asked the missionaries for the discussions, no-one new appeared at church the following day, but one man who attended the lecture approached me and raised my spirits when he expressed his appreciation for being able to tour the building and learn something of our beliefs. Others may have felt the same, but not expressed it. Seeds were sown and continued effort and new ideas will bring results. As Christ said: "If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you." (Matthew 17:20)

Maybe each of us needs to stop amidst our busy, dashing, breathless lives—even amidst our many meetings. It recalls to mind an experience—perhaps you know it—of a little inquisitive boy who came to church with his father, and as they walked into the foyer, the boy noticed the usual trophy case over which were placed several large plaques. Curiosity got to the little boy. He pulled on his dad’s coattail and said, “Dad, what’s that one?”

The father moved a little closer and read the inscription, patted his boy on the head, and said, “Son, that’s a plaque honoring those who died in the service.”

To which the little boy said, “Morning or evening?”

Joshua S., 15, in Japan, learned to follow the Spirit and talk to people he meets. “I trust that the Lord will lead me to people who will be good friends. Because of this I have been able to share the gospel and be a good example to my friends,” he says.