Gospel Story Finder

Sara quietly climbed into her family’s car after church. She sighed and leaned her head against the window.
“Why are you so sad?” Mom asked.
“Today in Primary Jonathon gave a talk about families. He talked about his grandma and the things they do when they are together. It made me think of Grandma and how much I miss her.”
“I miss her too,” Mom said.
“I know that I’ll see her again someday,” Sara said, “but right now I miss her so much. I wish I could still do things with her.”
As they walked into the house, Mom put her arm around Sara and said, “Wait in the living room. I have something to give you.”
Sara was very curious.
Mom came into the room carrying a sack. Sitting on the couch next to Sara, Mom reached inside the sack and pulled out a small wooden box. She put it on Sara’s lap.
“What’s this?” Sara asked.
“It’s a memory box,” Mom said.
Sara opened the box, but there was nothing inside.
“One thing that helps me feel better when I am missing Grandma is to think about all the special things I did with her,” Mom said. “Why don’t you see if you can find things to put into the memory box that remind you of her? When you’re feeling sad, you can open the box and remember some of the wonderful things about her. You’ll still miss her, but maybe it will help.”
Sara took the box to her bedroom. She started to remember special things about Grandma. She spent much of the evening gathering things for her box.
The next morning at breakfast, Sara asked Dad if she could share something during family home evening that night.
“Definitely,” Dad said. “What do you want to share?”
“You’ll have to wait and see,” Sara said, smiling.
That night, during family home evening, Sara stood up. Holding the box, she said, “This is my memory box.”
“What’s inside?” Eric asked.
Sara lifted the lid of the box. She pulled out a small flower called a snapdragon. “When I was at Grandma’s house last summer, she picked a bouquet of snapdragons from her garden. With one of the flowers, she made the snapdragon tell me a story.”
“How can a snapdragon tell a story?” Susan asked.
“Like this.” Sara pinched the edges of the flower together. Each time she did, the flower petals opened and closed like a mouth.
“When I was a little girl, Grandma used to tell me snapdragon stories too,” Mom said.
“What else is in the box?” Dad asked.
Sara pulled out a cupcake wrapper. “Grandma made the best cupcakes.”
“I loved her chocolate ones,” Eric said.
Next Sara pulled out a penny. “Grandma told me to be sure to pay my tithing—even if it is only a penny.”
Sara pulled out one thing after another. At last she took out a piece of paper with music on it. “I love that Grandma liked to sing as she worked. This is her favorite song. Can we sing it now, Mom?”
“Absolutely,” Mom said.
Sara smiled as her family sang “Families Can Be Together Forever.”
That night Sara placed the memory box on her bookshelf. Even though she missed Grandma, she was happy to have so many memories of her. Sara’s happy memories would keep her from being sad until she could be with Grandma again.

As the tears wet her nightgown, she remembered once when she saw the Prophet cry. It had happened the year before, when Mary Ann’s family was returning from England. Many converts came with them on the boat, and they were anxious to see Joseph Smith.

“I’ll know him immediately,” one man said. Others agreed that they, too, would be able to pick him out, even in a multitude.

Mary Ann told the converts how noble and grand the Prophet looked on his horse at the head of the Nauvoo Legion. She told them how she had watched him preach to the people in the Kirtland Temple, and to the Indians in the grove at Nauvoo.

Mary Ann still remembered how the steamboat pushed through large, floating blocks of ice on the Mississippi River as it approached the city of Nauvoo. At the landing there was a large group of people waiting to welcome the company of travelers. Right away, Mary Ann noticed the Prophet. He came on the boat, into their cabin, and embraced Parley Pratt. Then he welcomed each family member in turn.

The Prophet was a very big man. Six foot, her father had said. Mary Ann’s head came just above his belt buckle, but he leaned over so he could look into her eyes and shake her hand. Then he sat down and took her little brother on his knees.

“Well, well, Brother Parley, you have returned, bringing your sheaves with you.” He hugged little Parley and Nathan, and the tears filled his clear blue eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Mary Ann had discovered that grown folk sometimes cry when they’re filled with joy, so she knew it was just his happiness spilling over.

Mary Ann recalled how Father had teased the Prophet when he saw the tears.

“Brother Smith, if you feel so bad about our coming home, I guess we’ll have to go back again.”

After that, everyone laughed, the Prophet most of all. Then he said, “Brother Parley, bring your folks up to my house.” Mary Ann remembered how as they walked up the hill with the Prophet, she had tried to match her step with his.

Years later, as I prepared for a mission, I found myself questioning my motives for serving. I felt that there was nothing particularly special about my testimony or about me. I wondered if I was preparing for a mission out of obligation to my parents and my leaders, who had worked hard to teach me the gospel. I even thought the Lord might be better off without my service.
One day while I was reading the Book of Mormon, Abinadi’s words touched my heart:
“He shall be led, crucified, and slain. …
“And thus God breaketh the bands of death, having gained the victory over death. …
“And now I say unto you, who shall declare his generation?” (Mosiah 15:7–8, 10; emphasis added).
I read that last line over and over, wondering if it had been there before. By reading the New Testament, I knew of the Savior’s life and of the generation of those who had walked with Him. But those of the Savior’s generation cannot visit people today to teach of His love, His Atonement, and His Church. So how could I justify not sharing my testimony of Him?
The Lord wanted me to share the good news of the gospel I had received. I knew the gospel to be true, and I wanted to share the truths I had learned while reading the scriptures.
Soon after this experience I left on my mission. Today I can attribute the desire I had to serve to what I had learned about the Savior as a young student reading the scriptures.

As soon as we sang, “We thank Thee O God for a Prophet” with the rest of the congregation, I was filled with the Holy Spirit—and at that moment, I knew a true man called of God was in our presence.
When the Prophet was giving his talk, I felt happy and excited to be very close to him—as I was seated in the choir. He then asked all primary children to rise and sing, “I Am a Child of God”. I stood up and hoped he would notice the little girl in the choir! To my surprise, he turned back, and called to me, and asked me to lead the other children. I have never felt the way I did in all my life, it was such a special moment for me and one that I am sure will remain in my heart forever.
As he placed his hand on my shoulder, I was filled with such warmth in my heart, I will forever cherish that moment.
I know without a doubt that President Russell M. Nelson is called of God and that if I continue to search the scriptures as he instructed, I will be blessed.

By Ann-Sophie and Lawrence Cavin, Scotland, UK
Ann-Sophie: I always wanted to study at a university, but my plans about what to study changed a lot during my teenage years. After finishing high school, I volunteered in a hospital for six months. Since then I loved the idea of being a nurse, but I didn’t think I would be able to do it.
In my ward’s self-reliance class, we were asked to pick a job we would like to have even though we might not have the qualifications. I prayed about what to do, and nursing kept coming into my mind. I decided to follow the promptings of the Lord.
Pursuing this path hasn’t been easy. To get started, I researched the nursing program and what it would take for me to study. I talked to people who went through a similar process. The first time I applied to the nursing program, I was put on the waiting list. But I didn’t give up; I applied again and eventually got in. Sometimes you have to be patient and trust in the Lord as He has His own plan for you.

I would like to see a new word in the English language dictionary: “Enjoyring”. I define this as “Enduring with joy”, a result of remaining on the covenant path. Let me tell you why:
On Christmas Day 2019, we had a large group of family and friends at our home for Christmas celebrations. It was a wonderful day with joy and peace in our associations with each other. After lunch, the children acted out the Nativity, dressing up as Joseph, Mary, and all the Nativity characters.
Later, we all sat around the pool enjoying and watching fun activities. Suddenly disaster struck. Our daughter Joslyn, who was born severely handicapped with cerebral palsy, suddenly started to have an epileptic seizure. I ran to her aid, knowing from experience that there was nothing we could do but wait for it to pass. We knew that the longer the seizure lasted, the more life threatening it would be. As we supported her, I could see that she was having great difficulty breathing, and that her lips were turning blue. I remember feeling desperate, thinking to myself that we had never seen her this bad before and realised she needed to be taken to the hospital immediately.
My wife, Mandy, and I left our guests and rushed off. In the car, Joslyn’s seizure subsided, and she was able to breathe a little better, but then she had a second severe episode. While Mandy drove, I sat in the back of the car with her so I was able to give her a priesthood blessing. When we arrived at the hospital, Joslyn was in a serious condition. She was quickly admitted into the intensive care unit for medical attention.
We returned home later that Christmas night, Mandy and I both feeling physically and mentally drained. In the car ride home, we talked about how we had just abandoned our Christmas guests, but we knew they completely understood the emergency. We knew that they had all returned to their own homes, and we concluded that we would spend the rest of that night cleaning our home. But when we arrived, we were very humbled and so grateful to find our home spotlessly clean, with dishes washed and put away, floors mopped, furniture and toys put in place—everything looking perfect.
We felt such gratitude for the thoughtfulness of our family and friends as they rallied together and cleaned up. Our spirits lifted, being the beneficiaries of such kindness after a stressful experience. That night we truly felt ministered to.
Joslyn spent the next week in intensive care, she had received a priesthood blessing, she recovered, and we felt at peace.

“She’s just a better version of me.”
Months after coming home from my mission in California, this thought was still tormenting my mind. There hadn’t been a day that went by without me thinking about my mission and who I was while I was serving. “Mission-me,” as I called this past version of myself, was better than my current self. Mission-me prioritized the gospel over everything else. She was kind, selfless, and acted on what she knew was right.
The current me?
She was different.
My scripture study habits had all but gone out the window. My prayers were sporadic at best, and though I was still attending the temple and church weekly, I knew I could be doing better at inviting the Spirit into my life.
But no matter how many times I tried, it seemed I could only keep up my spiritual habits for a couple of days—a week at most—before failing. I knew how much I loved the gospel and my Savior, but for some reason, I just couldn’t grow into the person I wanted to be.
I finally felt relief after nine months of being home. I was attending an institute class, trying desperately to learn from The Divine Gift of Forgiveness, a book by Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
Just then, a paragraph jumped out at me.
It reads, “If we find ourselves temporarily facing setbacks, we don’t become discouraged. We focus on our love of the Savior and His love for us, and we move forward. Week by week, year by year, our repentance and resolve draw us closer to Him.”
I froze—his words felt like they were meant specifically for me.
I knew that through His Atonement, Jesus Christ could help me. I had faith that He was cheering me on, but I’d been missing one key detail: timing.
See, God wasn’t expecting me to be perfect right then. That’s the whole reason Christ atoned for us. God knows that we will never be perfect in this life, and He loves us so much that He sent His Only Begotten Son to save us.
Instead of trying to become perfect right then, the Savior’s enabling power could help me continue to grow over the course of a lifetime. Week by week, year by year. The best version of myself was going to take my whole life to develop—that’s how it’s supposed to be, as we learn to walk with Him.

I had been a member of the Church for about a year when a missionary challenged me to subscribe to A Liahona (Portuguese). I had never read a magazine like A Liahona in my life. While reading the first issue of my subscription, I received a testimony that the things written in it were true. I was able to see what the gospel of Jesus Christ does in the lives of people. Now as I read the magazine I try to find counsel to apply to my own life.
Jeferson Carlos Nogueira da Silva,Aracati Branch, Mossoró Brazil District

The story is told there of the grandfather who took his five-year-old grandson for a walk around town. Ultimately, they found themselves at a small grocery store on Main Street where they stopped for a cold soda pop. A car from out of state pulled up and the driver approached the old-timer. Pointing to a small cloud in the sky, the stranger asked, “Do you think it’s going to rain?”
“I certainly hope so,” replied the old man, “if not for my sake, for the boy’s. I’ve seen it rain.”
Hope is an emotion which brings richness to our everyday lives. It is defined as “the feeling that … events will turn out for the best.” When we exercise hope, we “look forward … with desire and reasonable confidence” (dictionary.reference.com/browse/hope). As such, hope brings a certain calming influence to our lives as we confidently look forward to future events.

As a freshman in our country’s best university, I felt pressure to do my best. Persecution came, and I started to question my belief in the gospel as many of my professors expounded on what they professed to be “reality.” Many of my classmates were affected. This environment made it difficult to uphold Christian values. I thought of quitting but decided it was better to stay. I reasoned that if there were only a few who qualified to enter this university, and among those few were only a few Latter-day Saints, then I should stay and stand for truth.
My biology professor, a self-professed atheist, taught science without any belief in a Supreme Creator. Yet the more I heard, the more it reinforced to me that there is a Supreme Being—God, our Father—who created all these things. Others argued that this idea didn’t make any sense. Our discussions got more intense. I was anxious to raise my hand and explain I believe in God as the Creator.
The time came to give comments. At my school, it was normal for people to applaud, yell, or boo at those who presented their ideas. I stood boldly and said plainly to the opposing side: “Believing in God may not make any sense to you at the moment, but the day will come when it will all make sense to you as clearly as it does to me now.”
Since that time, I’ve never received any boos when standing up for my beliefs. From that time forward, I progressed academically, socially, and spiritually. I started to become active in student activities, and I was elected to several school offices.
I learned that standing for truth even once greatly affects our future decisions.
Vince A. Molejan Jr., Mindanao, Philippines

Thank you very much for the continuing publication of the Mormonads. Recently I put up all of the small-sized Mormonads in the hallways in our stake center during a regional youth dance. It was interesting to see some of the youth go up and down the hallways to see which ones they would find next. Our DJ, a longtime veteran of Church dances, told me that some of the youth made a special effort to thank him for the good job and that no one argued or complained when he declined to play certain songs. They just chose different songs for him to play. I don’t know if there is a correlation between this behavior and the Mormonads, but I like to think it wasn’t a coincidence.
Catherine M., Utah

When I was growing up, it was not uncommon for Mother to wake me in the middle of the night and say, “Sheri, take your pillow and go downstairs.” I knew what that meant. It meant a tornado was coming, and I was instantly afraid. But then Mother would say, “Sheri, everything will be OK.” Her words always calmed me. Today, decades later, when life seems overwhelming or frightening, I call Mother and wait for her to say, “Everything will be OK.”

One newly called bishop, in his first meeting with his counselors, declared, “The Aaronic Priesthood is a prime responsibility of ours.” To the second counselor, he directed, “I ask you to be personally responsible to ensure that every deacon, at the appropriate age, be worthy and be ordained a teacher.” To the other counselor, he said, “Will you please do the same as pertains to the teachers, that they may, on schedule, be worthy and be ordained priests.” Then the bishop continued, “I will take the same responsibility for the priests to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and be ordained elders. Together, and with God’s help, we can do it.” And they did.

At last the Ellsworth company’s journey was coming to an end. It would have ended sooner if they had not been slowed down by the ox-drawn wagons that carried their tents and other supplies. When Brigham Young heard that the handcart companies—both the Ellsworth and the McArthur companies—were between Little Mountain and Big Mountain, he organized a group of citizens, brass bands, Church leaders, and others to meet the groups and escort them into the city. When the escort met the handcart companies, the handcarts were halted and Captain Ellsworth introduced the companies to President Young and his counselors. Relatives and friends greeted the newcomers and provided a treat of fresh melons for them to eat.
As the companies and their escort moved on toward the public square in Salt Lake City, the number of welcomers increased. The Deseret News of that day stated, “The line of march was scarcely taken up, before it began to be met by men, women, and children on foot, on horses, and in wagons, thronging out to see and welcome the first hand-cart companies and the numbers rapidly increased until the living tide lined and thronged South Temple street.”
President Young spoke briefly to the group and blessed them; then the handcart pioneers pitched their tents, finally at rest in the valley of the Great Salt Lake.
26
Eight miles from Salt Lake City, met by Brigham Young, Nauvoo Brass Band, and others with provisions (13 miles)

Fast-forward to more recent times, about two years ago. David Palmer, having spent several years teaching at the Safford High seminary, had recently become principal of the Thatcher High seminary. Brother Palmer had been playing rec league basketball, where he became acquainted with Brandon. Brandon learned that Brother Palmer’s son, Matthew, age 8 at the time, was about to have surgery to remove a lump in his jaw. Doctors feared it might be cancer.
“Brandon asked if he could visit my son after the surgery,” Brother Palmer explains. “When he visited, he gave him a note and said if Matt would let him know when he came to a game, he’d make a three-point basket and then point to him in the stands.” Sure enough, when the next Thatcher versus Safford basketball game rolled around, there was Matt in the stands with his father. On the first play, Brandon was open for three, sank the shot, and then turned and pointed to his young friend.
Brandon scored 30 points that night, with several baskets from beyond the arc. Each time he scored a three, he pointed at Matthew. That cemented Brandon as a hero to Matt.
That night in family prayer, Matt started asking Heavenly Father to guide Brandon to join the Church. The Palmer family had already been praying to find someone who would want to learn the gospel, and Matt was sure Brandon was an answer to that prayer.

I grew up in the dryland wheat-farming country of northeastern Oregon, where my father managed an agricultural experiment station. I spent my boyhood in the little town of Moro, Oregon, which had about 300 people. There were no other members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Moro. We were the only members in the whole county.
We attended a small branch in The Dalles. But when I was about five years old, World War II started and we could not get tires or extra gasoline and could not drive the 80-mile round trip each Sunday. So a home branch was organized in our home.
Each Sunday we held sacrament meeting and Sunday School. My father taught my older brother, Richard, and my older sister, Joan. My mother taught my younger sister, Mary, and me. My mother was an excellent teacher and a wonderful storyteller. She made the scriptures come alive. We sang hymns and Primary songs.
My parents taught us exactly who we were and where we came from. I grew up with the sure knowledge of Father in Heaven, of Jesus Christ, and of the teachings of the gospel. My testimony developed steadily because of the teachings I received in my home.

Some years ago, Dr. Faun Hunsaker, then president of the Southern States Mission, was invited to stay at the home of a member. He arrived after the children were in bed.
He occupied the parents’ bedroom, and during the night heard the door open and the sound of little feet. A little boy frightened by a bad dream had come to his parents’ bed for comfort.
Sensing that something was different, the little boy felt Brother Hunsaker’s face. So he spoke quietly to the child. The startled youngster said, “You’re not my daddy!”
“No, I’m not your daddy.”
“Did my daddy say you could sleep here?”
“Yes, your daddy said I could sleep here.”
With that the little youngster crawled into bed with Brother Hunsaker and was soon asleep.
...
I said at the beginning that I might well conclude with the account of that trusting little child. I think I will do just that:
“You’re not my daddy.”
“No, I’m not your daddy.”
“Did my daddy say you could sleep here?”
“Yes, your daddy said I could sleep here.”
With that, the little boy was soon safely asleep in his arms.
God grant that all little children will be safe with every one of us because their Father and their God and our Father and our God said we could be here. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Although you can save money by purchasing items at a reduced price, don’t buy something just because it’s on sale. Keep in mind the strategies that many stores use to encourage you to buy their products. I learned this lesson when my aunt sent me to the grocery store to buy garlic. When I got there, I found it was on sale: buy three for $5. So what did I do? I bought three. When I returned, though, I found that my aunt needed only one small clove. “You don’t have to buy three just because they’re on sale,” she told me.

With February came Keith, and in our small branch one person can make a lot of difference. He was a convert of five months and had the enthusiasm of four new missionaries all wrapped into one person. So when the college we attended announced a foster grandparent program involving a local rest home, Keith approached me with the idea that we, the only LDS students on campus, should join and be good examples. I suggested we visit the two women who were in our branch who lived there. They couldn’t get to church meetings, and they probably needed us. We talked about it but took no action.
Then one Sunday our high councilor couldn’t make the 30 miles to our branch because of a heavy snow, and President Harrison gave what I am sure was an impromptu talk on faith. He said faith was putting your words and beliefs in action. It was that afternoon that Keith and I decided to visit the sisters in the rest home.
Our first visit was a disaster. We visited each sister alone, and didn’t really get beyond “How are you?” “Fine.” As we left we knew two things: first, that they needed us; and second, that we could do better. We had promised them that we’d return. And even though we spent much of the next Sunday afternoon driving home the 150 miles from district conference, Keith and I convinced Les Harrison, his sister LeAnn, and Portia (a nursing student) to visit the women with us.
We wheeled both sisters into a quiet corner. Keith read an article from a Church magazine, Les read a scripture, and Portia offered a beautiful prayer. We felt good about the experience, and the next Sunday we came with seven Young Adults and youth. Les and Keith blessed and passed the sacrament to the sisters. We then wheeled them into a small chapel in the home and sang a hymn. An article from the Church magazines was read, then a poem and a scripture. We had a closing hymn and prayer.
It was three o’clock before we left and we hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, so Les invited us all to his house for soup and crackers. That Sunday afternoon I was again in the branch president’s home, only this time it was under much different circumstances. The faithful president had just come home from working at the church, and he and his wife joined us in our meal. During the week the seven of us were scattered about the town, and many of us were without families in the Church. For two hours we sat around the table and talked with each other and Les’s parents. Jokes, stories, and the problems of being lone Latter-day Saints out in “the field” were shared. It was truly an inspiring experience.
Les and I only had an hour to work on our home-study seminary lesson before I had to be back at the church for a branch correlation meeting. It was a good meeting, and it was ten o’clock before I returned home. I had no time left to work on my genealogy or write a letter to a missionary as I had planned.
When I knelt for prayer that night I realized there were more “dos” for the Sabbath than I could ever fit into one short day. I thanked my Heavenly Father for the special day he had set apart to bless us.

I was sitting on the curb of a dirt road on the edge of a town somewhere in the middle of Argentina. I was a missionary, and this was my first area. My companion was doing an interview, and rather than waste my time I figured I would sit down and study the missionary discussions.
Just as I opened the fifth discussion, I noticed a little boy running playfully across the street as though he was being chased. What was he running from? I wondered. What could be so terrible? Then I spotted the dreaded assailant coming at him from behind. It was a girl. He must have been considering the dreadful things that might happen if she ever caught up with him.
Just in time, the boy saw me. Surely she wouldn’t dare follow him to an American in a suit. He was right. Pretty soon it was just me, an empty street, and a 10-year-old boy hiding behind my coat.
Suddenly we were in the middle of a gospel discussion as he snatched the fifth discussion out of my hands and read the title. “Living a Christlike Life,” he said. I’m not sure what he said after that, but I gathered that his question was something like, “Who are you guys, anyway?”
I tried to give him a shallow explanation of what missionaries do, only to be humbled by his profound response. In an attempt to summarize everything I had said, he replied, “¿Ustedes son amigos de Jesucristo?”—“You are friends of Jesus Christ?”
“Yes,” I answered as he ran off to play, unaware of the effect he had had on me.
I couldn’t get his voice out of my head. “¿Ustedes son amigos de Jesucristo?” There was something about the way he said it in Spanish. Did he mean it as a mere statement of fact or as an actual question?
Am I a friend of Jesus Christ? I thought. What is a friend of Jesus Christ? A friend to Christ? A friend like Christ?
One morning not long after that experience I stumbled across a passage in the Doctrine and Covenants where the Prophet Joseph Smith records the salutation to be read in the School of the Prophets:
“Art thou a brother or brethren? I salute you in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, in token or remembrance of the everlasting covenant, in which covenant I receive you to fellowship, in a determination that is fixed, immovable, and unchangeable, to be your friend and brother through the grace of God in the bonds of love, to walk in all the commandments of God blameless, in thanksgiving, forever and ever. Amen” (D&C 88:133).
I’ve never found a better definition of a friend. These were brethren who had a determination to be friends, and this prayer explained what that meant. A number of the qualities mentioned in that salutation impressed me: determined, fixed, immovable, unchangeable, loving, obedient, blameless. I realized that if these were required to be a friend of Jesus Christ, then I wasn’t qualified.
Christ set the perfect example of what it means to be a friend. He asks us to qualify as his friends and receive the blessings that he has made possible. In John 15:14 he said, “Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you.” The preceding verse reads, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). He is no ordinary friend.
“You are friends of Jesus Christ?” the young boy said. All of us need to decide for ourselves if those words are a statement of fact—or a probing question.