Gospel Story Finder

Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness includes a mortal experience where all of His children will be tested and face trials. Five years ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I have felt and still feel the physical pains from surgeries, radiation treatments, and medication side effects. I have experienced emotional struggles during torturous sleepless nights. Medical statistics indicate I will probably depart mortality earlier than I ever expected, leaving behind, for a season, a family who means everything to me.
Many suffering Saints have shared with me how they felt God’s love during their trials. I vividly recall my own experience at one point in my cancer battle when the doctors had not yet diagnosed the cause of some severe pain. I sat with my wife, intending to offer a routine blessing on our lunch. Instead, all I could do was simply weep, “Heavenly Father, please help me. I am so sick.” For the next 20 to 30 seconds, I was encircled in His love. I was given no reason for my illness, no indication of the ultimate outcome, and no relief from the pain. I just felt of His pure love, and that was and is enough.

While planning things that needed to be done at Providence House, several items on the list became good ideas for one person to take on as a Laurel project or as part of an Eagle Scout project.
Steven Ellsworth took on the canned-food drive. Checking with the center about its specific needs, Steven set a goal to collect 750 cans. He also created a Web site to keep stake members informed about youth conference and about what specifically was needed for the food drive.

After high school, like many freshmen, I was overwhelmed by my college courses and the challenges of simultaneously living away from home but also with five roommates.

This was when I learned to understand the strengthening and enabling power of Christ’s grace. I spent my days working and studying, but I depended on daily prayers in which I pled to Heavenly Father for the ability to complete the necessary tasks. As the school year continued, I discovered to my joy that with the strengthening and enabling power of Christ’s Atonement, I could function not only well but without difficulty.

One of the most exciting experiences of my life was the first time I shared my testimony with a friend. Jan (pronounced like yawn) was an exchange student from Germany. Jan wasn’t a religious person and told me that he didn’t believe in God or any supreme being. He said he believed that after this life, there was nothing; death was the end.
I, of course, had a much different view of life. During our many conversations about religion, Jan was receptive and interested in my ideas. But Jan was adamant. He didn’t believe in God. His convictions were just as firm as mine.
I gave him a Book of Mormon with my testimony written inside. He started to read 1 Nephi, but after two weeks he said he lost interest.
My excitement turned to disappointment and concern that I had done something wrong. I talked to my seminary teacher about it. He told me that I was taking the first step in the process of bringing Jan home, and sometimes the person who introduces someone to the gospel isn’t the person who sees them accept it. He assured me that I hadn’t done anything wrong; Jan just wasn’t ready yet.
This experience taught me a lot. I am beginning to understand why bringing even one soul to Christ (see D&C 18:15) is so important. Heavenly Father loves all His children and He wants us to return to Him.
What I had initially thought of as a failure actually turned out to be one of the greatest blessings of my life. Sharing the gospel with Jan made me realize how much the gospel is worth to me. Knowledge of the gospel plan is something I wouldn’t trade for anything.
Sometimes I wonder if I could have said or done something that would have brought Jan into the Church. I pray for him, that someone can touch his heart in a way that will help him know that the gospel is true. But no matter what Jan does, he has touched my heart in a way that I will always remember.

As a volunteer for my local council in the Community Learning and Development department, I help people become self-sufficient by teaching them computer skills and helping them with their CVs.
Through this work, I was asked to spearhead genealogy classes at local libraries. Wonderfully, this opportunity coincided with the opening of a family history centre at the Greenock Branch meetinghouse.
The genealogy classes are well attended, and my first objective was to have everyone register at familysearch.org. I walk through the site processes with participants and help them start their own research for ancestors. I informed attendees that the free website was the largest database for records, and that FamilySearch belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
During breaks between courses the participants would bring in refreshments and I heard them discussing what to give me to drink. I knew they knew I was a member of the Church.
After each course, participants receive a copy of the My Family: Stories That Bring Us Together pamphlet, with the details for the Greenock Branch Family History Centre.

Kelli is very cheerful, but she has also had her challenges:
“Sometimes it can be easy to forget about our Heavenly Father when everything is going well for us. Often it is not until the strong tests come to us that we humbly remember how much we need Him. This past year, we have faced many trials and challenges, but thanks to Heavenly Father, we have been able to overcome each one. Though trials will continue to come to us, I hope that with faith and hope, we will overcome them, no matter how long it takes. Each challenge has strengthened me and helped me to completely trust in God.
“I have great hope in these two scriptures. The first is 2 Nephi 31:20 ‘Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life.’
“The second is found in Proverbs 3:5–6 ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“‘In all thy ways acknowledge him and he shall direct thy paths.’
“I love these verses because even though I sometimes get frustrated when I don’t understand the challenges, I find hope in these scriptures.”

On Sundays my mom usually woke me up so I could get ready for church and get there before the meetings began. But one Sunday my mom didn’t wake me up. I woke up by myself and noticed that I didn’t hear the usual noise of my family getting ready for church. I nervously looked at the clock and realized I was half an hour late for church. I had missed the sacrament. I probably would miss Sunday School too.
I felt confused and abandoned. Why didn’t my mom wake me up this morning? She always woke me up. But then it hit me: It wasn’t my mom’s responsibility to wake me up so I could get to church on time—it was mine. I had made my own covenants with Heavenly Father, and it was my responsibility to keep them.
Later that day my mom commented on not waking me up for church. She said that she wouldn’t wake me up again. She told me that I should put in my own effort and gain my own testimony.
During that week, I found myself thinking about how I couldn’t live on my parents’ testimonies forever and how I should try harder to strengthen my own testimony. Since then, I have worked hard to wake up early every Sunday so that I can make it to church on time and take the sacrament. I am learning to be spiritually self-sufficient.
Lia Alves, Ceará, Brazil

One day Joseph played a game of ball with some of the young men in Nauvoo. The Prophet’s older brother Hyrum saw him. Hyrum had a great love for his brother, and he didn’t like to see people given a chance to find fault with him. Hyrum was afraid that if people saw Joseph having fun with the young men, they might think this wasn’t what a prophet should do.
After the ball game, Hyrum approached Joseph and said that such conduct was not proper for a prophet of the Lord. He spoke out of love, wishing to guide his brother.
The Prophet looked lovingly at Hyrum. He knew Hyrum was concerned about him, and he trusted and often listened to the advice of his older brother. But this time Joseph simply answered him in a mild voice. “Brother Hyrum, my mingling with the boys in a harmless sport like this does not injure me in any way, but on the other hand it makes them happy and draws their hearts nearer to mine; and who knows but there may be young men among them who may sometime lay down their lives for me!”*
The Prophet Joseph was right. When persecution again started for him, two young men in Nauvoo risked their lives to discover the Prophet’s enemies and their plots against him. The young men showed how much they had come to love the Prophet by how much they risked their own safety for his. Joseph Smith dearly loved children, and they loved the Prophet too.

When I was young, one of my passions was playing football. For many years, I looked forward to high school so that I could try out for the team. Finally the day came, and I made it! During a practice not long before our first game, someone blocked me from the side. I hit the ground, and a few boys landed on me. I felt something in my shoulder snap. When I got up, my left arm hung like a wet noodle.
At the hospital, a doctor told me that my arm was broken. He wrapped it in a heavy, three-inch-thick cast, saying that the weight of the cast would pull the bone into place. It really did feel like someone was pulling on my arm! He prescribed some pain pills, told me to sleep in a chair for a few nights, and sent me home.
My shoulder kept hurting, and after a few days, my parents became worried. They asked another doctor to look at my X rays, and he thought that maybe the ball of my shoulder had been broken instead of the bone below it. When he took me into the operating room, he said, “If you wake up with your arm raised above your head in a cast, you’ll know that we were able to properly set the bone. If your arm is lying down, you’ll know that we had to operate.”
Eight hours later, I woke up with my arm at my side. My shoulder had been broken through the growth center. It was a good thing that I was nearly full-grown at age fourteen! My left arm is now an inch and a half (about 4 cm) shorter than my right arm. The doctors had had to break the bone again because it had healed in the wrong place. They also had to insert two metal screws to hold the bones together. Those screws are still in my shoulder today.
The doctors told me I should never play football again. If I were to get injured, the metal pins could splinter my bones and I could lose my arm. I was disappointed that I could no longer play the sport I loved so much.
After a few days of thinking about it, I accepted my limitation and decided I could switch to basketball. While my left arm was still in the cast, I found that I could shoot baskets with my right hand. I worked hard to compensate for this injury, and after three successful years on the high school team, I accepted a basketball scholarship to Brigham Young University.
This experience taught me to always keep a positive attitude, to never lose hope. Even when bad things happen, have the courage to alter your course and find new things to do.

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles told about a single mother who got chicken pox—and then her children got sick too. The normally spotless house became cluttered and messy. Dishes and laundry piled up.

In a moment when she felt completely overwhelmed, Relief Society sisters knocked on her door. They didn’t say, “Let us know if we can help.” When they saw the situation, they sprang into action.

“They cleared up the chaos, brought light and clarity into the home, and called a friend to bring over some much-needed groceries. When they at last finished their work and said their good-byes, they left that young mother in tears—tears of gratitude and love.”7

Both the givers and the receiver felt the warmth of joy.

Some years ago while visiting the Australia Mission, I accompanied the mission president on a flight to Darwin to break ground for that city’s first Latter-day Saint chapel. We stopped for refueling at the small mining community of Mt. Isa. There we were met at the terminal by a mother and her two children of Primary age. She introduced herself as Judith Louden and mentioned that she and her two children were the only members of the Church in the town. Her husband, Richard, was not a member. We held a brief meeting, where I discussed the importance of holding a home Primary session each week. I promised to send from Church headquarters the home Primary materials to assist them. There was a commitment to pray, to meet, to persevere in faith.

Upon returning to Salt Lake City, I enlisted the help of then-President LaVern Parmley, and the home Primary materials were sent, along with a subscription to the Children’s Friend.

Years later, while attending the stake conference of the Brisbane Australia Stake, I happened to mention in a priesthood session the plight of this faithful woman and her children. I said, “Someday I hope to learn if that home Primary succeeded and meet the nonmember husband and father of that choice family.” One of the brethren in the meeting stood and said, “Brother Monson, I am Richard Louden, the husband of that good woman and the father of those precious children. Prayer and Primary brought me into the Church.”

Before the city of Albuquerque approved the plans for the temple, the youth fasted and prayed for a solution to the problems the temple’s project manager faced when he presented the plans to city officials. Now they say they are fasting and praying for the temple builders. But the prayers and the cleanup are only part of the work the young people of Albuquerque are doing to prepare for the temple. They are also working to make certain their own lives are clean.

Illustration by Glenn Harmon
Max and Blake sat on Blake’s front porch eating ice-cream treats. It was a hot day, and the cold, sweet ice cream tasted just right. They both concentrated on eating every bit of their ice cream before it dripped onto the concrete. Blake finished his and sucked on the wooden stick.
“Hey, do you wanna play in the sprinklers in my backyard?” he said.
“That sounds great!”
“Race you!” said Blake, and he hopped up and ran around to the backyard gate.
Max finished the last bite of his ice cream as Blake disappeared around the corner of the house.
“Hey, wait for me!” Max shouted as he hurried after Blake. When he reached the gate, he flung it open, remembering too late to watch out for Blake’s dog, Chief. Chief ran out through the gate, his large furry body pushing Max out of the way.
“Chief, come!” Max shouted.
Chief stopped in Blake’s front yard. He cocked his head and grinned at Max, his tail wagging.
Max spoke calmly as he inched toward the dog. “C’mon Chief. Come back.” Max was almost close enough to grab Chief, so he kept speaking gently and stretched out his hand.
Chief lurched away and raced down the street at full speed, still wagging his tail. He was fast. Max ran after Chief and tried not to lose sight of him.
Max followed Chief until he felt like he just couldn’t run anymore. His muscles ached, and his throat burned from breathing hard. All the while, Chief ran ahead of him, getting farther and farther away from home. Max was really worried now. He couldn’t go back for help without losing sight of Chief, but he just didn’t know how much longer he could keep up. And if he couldn’t catch him, Chief would be lost. The thought of losing his best friend’s dog gave Max a sick feeling in his stomach.
Max stopped running, his heart still pounding hard in his chest. He closed his eyes and said an urgent prayer that he would be able to bring Chief home safely. Max looked up from his prayer and saw Chief dash through an open gate into a neighbor’s backyard. He followed and quickly closed the gate. His shoulders sagged with relief. Max knew this was an answer to his prayer. Chief was trapped in the yard.
Max knocked on the front door of the house and explained the situation. The kind neighbor helped Max hold Chief’s collar and walk him back home. Max was tired from his run, but he felt really grateful to Heavenly Father. He was so glad he’d remembered to pray for help.
“Hey Max, where’d you go?” said Blake as Max led Chief into the backyard. “I was getting the sprinkler set up and didn’t see you leave.”
“Aw, me and Chief went for a run. Let me tell you about it.” Max smiled as he set Chief free to play in the sprinklers. Then he double-checked to make sure the gate was closed tight.

For Joseph Smith it was a long, hard trip from Kirtland, Ohio, to Independence, Missouri. He traveled by wagon, by canal boat, and by stagecoach. For the last 250 miles (402 km), he had to walk! But the Lord had told him to go to Missouri to establish the city of Zion, so Joseph Smith obeyed.

It was 1962, and I was 19. I had been called to serve a mission in Mexico when I learned I had cancer.
Cancer? Me? I thought only people in big cities got cancer. After biopsies and close examinations by competent specialists, I learned the problem I was having with the swelling in my right forearm was an osteogenic sarcoma. Translated, it meant I had a type of bone cancer which, in those days, was nearly always fatal, even with the amputation of the affected limb.
Fatal! At age 19, having something fatal had never crossed my mind. I was excited to serve my mission, marry in the temple, have a great family, and enjoy a wonderful life. Still, I loved the Lord and I knew He loved me. Whether allowed to remain here or leave this life, it would be okay.
The immediate outcome was the loss of my right arm. The extended outcome has proven to be a lifetime of adventure. As I look back, I can honestly say the loss of my arm, rather than being a tragic experience, has been one of my greatest blessings. I have learned and gained so much from it.
The adjustment was interesting. I had been working in logging and road-building operations in the Pacific Northwest woods, so my body was strong. But I was extremely right-handed and that greatly-depended-upon arm was truly missed. Although I could formerly throw a baseball farther than anyone on the team, with my left arm I could throw a ball only a few yards. Writing was really interesting. My penmanship could have been improved by almost any preschool child. Everything was a challenge: tying shoes, buttoning shirts, carrying large objects, driving, shaving, drawing, eating, being stared at, enduring phantom pain, and so on.
Very quickly I came to realize I had much to get used to, to learn, and to relearn. I also realized there was very little I could do about the fact I had only one arm, and my attitude about that fact—and in life in general—was totally up to me. I was at a crossroads. It was apparent I could cry if I wanted to, or I could handle this and all other challenges with faith and a positive attitude. My happiness and eternal well-being were dependent upon my choice. The decision was simple. I chose to be positive, creative, very active, and to do everything possible to fulfill my destiny as a son of God, sent to grow from an earthly experience. Once made, this choice was firm and I never looked back.

Camilla Kimball teaches a ward member to “never suppress a generous thought.”

Kaylie’s fingers shook as she opened the brightly wrapped present. “Hurry up,” Erica said. “I picked it out just for you.”
Kaylie couldn’t remember a better birthday party. Her parents had let her plan the party all by herself. She had invited 10 friends. They’d had cake and ice cream in the kitchen, then went to her bedroom to open presents.
Erica, her best friend, had told Kaylie that she’d brought something “way cool.”
Eleven now, Kaylie wanted grown-up clothes. She’d be going to middle school next year and wanted to look like Erica and the rest of the girls in her class. They all wore clothes bought from stores in the shopping mall.
Kaylie’s dad had started a new business last year. There wasn’t money for new clothes, so her mother made her clothes or bought them from the thrift store.
“Finally!” Erica exclaimed when Kaylie’s fumbling fingers undid the tape.
Kaylie ripped the paper from the box and lifted the lid. The girls squealed as she pulled the blue sweater from the box.
“It has a butterfly on it,” Erica said.
Kaylie collected butterflies. She had butterfly barrettes, notebooks, and necklaces. But it wasn’t the butterfly that she was staring at. The sweater had tiny straps, so thin that they were practically invisible.
“Th—thank you,” she stuttered. “It’s beautiful.”
“Try it on,” one of the girls suggested.
Kaylie went into the bathroom. She pulled off her T-shirt and slipped on the sweater. It fit perfectly, but she had never worn anything so revealing.
“Cool,” the girls shouted when she went back into the bedroom.
She wore the sweater for the rest of the party, but she didn’t feel comfortable in it.
After Kaylie thanked each of the girls for their presents and walked them to the front door, she joined Mom in the kitchen.
Mom raised her eyebrows at the sweater. “One of your presents?”
“Erica gave it to me. She knows I like butterflies.” One of the straps slipped from her shoulder. Self-consciously, she pulled it back in place.
Mom put down the carrot she was grating and gestured to the kitchen table. Kaylie knew that look. Her mom was getting ready to tell her something important.
“I know,” she said before Mom could say anything. “It’s different from what I usually wear.”
Mom waited a long time before speaking. “It’s not very modest.”
“Erica’s my best friend.” Kaylie knew she sounded defensive. “You’re probably going to say I can’t wear it.”
Mom shook her head. “No, I’m going to let you decide what to do.”
Kaylie knew her mom was telling her that she was old enough to make her own decisions. Sometimes she wished she could go back to being a little girl.
“You know our standards,” Mom said. “I know you’ll make the right decision.”
Kaylie wandered back to her room. She looked at all the presents she had received. Ordinarily, she’d be showing her parents everything. Now she couldn’t think about anything but the butterfly sweater. Once again, the strap slipped from her shoulder. She knew she would never feel comfortable wearing the sweater and changed back into the T-shirt she’d been wearing earlier.
She remembered the sharing time lesson in Primary last week. Sister McClure had asked Jason to blindfold Sam. Sam then had to walk across the room. Sister McClure said Sam would have to listen carefully to Jason, who would whisper the right directions to him. At the same time, the other children and teachers called out to him, trying to lure him away from the straight path.
When Sam made it to the other side of the room, Sister McClure thanked him and then asked if he’d had a hard time crossing the room blindfolded.
Sam nodded and said that all the voices had confused him and tempted him to stray from the path. Only Jason’s directions had kept him going in a straight line.
Sister McClure said that members of the Church had someone who could lead them in the right direction because he talked with Heavenly Father. She asked if the children knew who that was.
Kaylie raised her hand. “The prophet.”
Sister Rojas, the chorister, then led them in singing “Follow the Prophet” for the closing song.
The words of the song echoed through Kaylie’s mind now.
What would the prophet do? Kaylie knew the answer instantly. He would never do something that made him feel uncomfortable. The confusion that had clouded her mind cleared.
An idea flashed through her mind. She pulled the sweater over the T-shirt, then looked at herself in the mirror. They looked good together. She walked back to the kitchen.
Her mom wrapped an arm around Kaylie’s shoulders. “I knew you’d figure out a solution.”
Kaylie hugged her mom back.

For some reason as Peter Nordhoff walked through the room, the words he heard from the television made him stop. General conference was being broadcast, and his wife, who had been recently reactivated through the fellowship of a friend, was watching.
Peter and Adrina had been raised in the Church and married in the temple, but for nearly ten years they had not been involved much with the Church. At first, his work kept him busy on Sundays. When that changed, they used Sundays to relax together.
But that conference Sunday changed their lives. “The words of a prophet of God affected me,” Peter says. “The Spirit spoke to me through God’s mouthpiece. It was like a second birth for me. Listening to the prophet helped me realize that I must start doing the things I was supposed to be doing if I wanted my wife and daughter near me in eternity.” Later that day, Peter and Adrina went to their bishop.
“We went from less-active to overactive very quickly,” recalls Adrina, smiling.

I was always active in the Church, but I didn’t realize that I didn’t yet have a true testimony of the gospel. I guess my beliefs were based on the testimony of my parents and my priesthood leaders and everyone else who helped me in the Church. They knew I participated in everything. I memorized the Articles of Faith when I was in Primary. I participated in the Young Men program. But something was missing.
My search for a testimony was triggered when I was a teenager and my peers started asking questions about our beliefs and practices. Latter-day Saints are a minority in the Philippines, so most of my friends and peers were not Church members. I started wondering why I was required to do things or why I couldn’t do some of the things they did.
I also had a question about going on a mission. When I was in Primary, my bishop asked me, “Are you going on a mission?” and my response was, “Of course.” When I grew to be a young man and started enjoying life and high school, “Of course” became “Yes,” still with some excitement. And then in the later years of high school, with more peer pressure, I said, “I think I’m going on a mission,” and I started to waver. And then finally, I actually didn’t know. My response became “Maybe.”
So I had these questions and went to my bishop and my parents. They challenged me to read the Book of Mormon. That is when I came to understand that it was time for me to get my own testimony. I’d been reading the Book of Mormon for seminary, but I decided to take the challenge and really read the Book of Mormon.
I made it a point to pray before and sometimes during my reading—just to have a prayer in my heart and afterwards plead with my Father to let me know the truth about the Book of Mormon and what people had been telling me about gaining a testimony.
The first few times, of course, it was the same—they were just words on the page. But later on the scriptures began to be more understandable to me. And then I started to have particular feelings about some principles that were taught.
The next stage was that I was really getting into it. I was looking for opportunities to read, because I was finding myself in there, and it was having a wonderful effect on me. The Holy Ghost was constantly helping me to feel good about the things I was reading, causing a sensation to come over me—a warm feeling in my heart.
Finally, in one of those prayers, I just knew—I just knew that it was true. It was that overwhelming feeling that, no doubt about it, the Book of Mormon is true, the Church is true. When that testimony came, all the questions went away, and I knew that this is the true Church and that I needed to serve a mission.

Recently, while attending a stake conference and having the added blessing of meeting with the young people, some of whom had driven long hours, I learned that several of them were the only Latter-day Saints in their high schools. When I asked, “You set the right example for the rest of the students, don’t you?” they replied, “We really try.” As they said “we really try,” I could see the light of belief and conviction in those youthful faces. I could begin to understand what Peter meant by our being “called out of the darkness into his marvellous light.”