Gospel Story Finder

In 1919, Abigail Kailimai was four years old. She lived with her mother and father and all her older brothers and sisters in the town of Hilo on the big island of Hawaii. From her house, she could see the beautiful ocean where seals, turtles, whales, and many colorful fish swam.
Towering over her town was the large mountain called Mauna Kea. Thick rain forests and green pastures grew between her house and the mountain. Abigail could sometimes see puffs of smoke in the sky from volcanoes on the other side of the mountain.
Her father often told her wonderful stories. Her favorite story was about the temple then being built almost two hundred miles away on the island of Oahu. Father told her how, long ago, Joseph F. Smith had come to Hawaii as a missionary. The year Abigail was born, he had returned as President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and had dedicated a sugarcane field where the Church would build a temple. Father told her the ground there was now holy because the prophet had blessed it.
Father told Abigail how much the Hawaiian people loved President Smith. They called him Iosepa, the Hawaiian name for Joseph. Father’s eyes sparkled when he told Abigail what a wonderful place the temple would be. He promised to take her and her family to the temple when it was built so that they could be sealed together forever.
On Sundays, Abigail’s family went to church. Some people walked to church, and some rode horses. Father had an automobile. The whole family climbed inside it and rode to church. She loved learning about Jesus there. Her teacher often talked about the holy temple that was being built.
One day, Abigail’s mother told her the temple was almost finished! Their family needed to get ready to make the long journey there. Mother sewed new white dresses for Abigail and her sisters. They had been saving their money for a long time so that they could sail to Oahu.
Father told them that they needed to get ready to go to the holy temple in other ways, too. They needed to try to act as Jesus would, so that they would be worthy to go inside His house. Mother wrote down the names of her grandparents and great-grandparents and other relatives who had died so that they could be sealed to the family, too.
Finally the day came for them to leave. Abigail wore her prettiest dress and carried a small bag with her new white dress in it. Their friends came to give them flower leis to wear around their necks and to wish them a good journey. Abigail and her family climbed into the boat and were soon far out on the ocean.
Father showed Abigail how smoke and steam came out of the boat’s smokestack. The steam made the boat go. Abigail liked to watch the boat slice through the waves and to see the dolphins swimming alongside. After a very long day, they finally arrived in Oahu.
Abigail and her family went to the town of Laie, where the new temple had been built. One of the families living there invited them to stay in their home. Abigail shared a room where all the girls slept. In the morning, the children went outside and played in the sand dunes near the beach.
The next day, November 27, 1919, President Heber J. Grant came to dedicate the temple. Abigail could feel that the temple was a wonderful, holy place. After the dedication, the Saints held a luau, or big feast, to celebrate. They ate pork, chicken, fish, bananas, rice, and coconuts. They sang beautiful songs.
One week after the temple was dedicated, Abigail and her family went inside it to be sealed together. She wore her new white dress. Father told her that now their family could be together even after they went to heaven. Abigail felt so happy!

In February of 2016, my wife Nancy passed away after an 11-year struggle with breast cancer. The overwhelming grief I felt in the first months after she died would be impossible to describe to one who has not experienced this kind of a loss. Sorrow, anguish, misery, pain—none of these words do it justice. It was unbearable.
I have long understood that Jesus Christ “descended below all things” (D&C 88:6) so that He would be able “to succor [give relief or aid to] his people according to their infirmities” (Alma 7:12). This means that the power of the Savior’s Atonement extends beyond providing for the Resurrection and for the redemption from sins. Through this power, He can also heal us in our times of suffering and need. In my grief, I urgently—almost frantically—tried to learn what I needed to do to activate this aspect of the Savior’s power in my life. For weeks I searched the scriptures and talks by the General Authorities of the Church. I sincerely believed that, at the cost of considerable pain and sacrifice to Himself, the Savior knew the pain I was experiencing. But how did His knowing that help me? Since He suffered this for me, what did I need to do to receive the succoring that He thereby knows how to provide?
After much searching, study, prayer, and temple worship, I began to understand. First of all, I started to see more clearly that the Lord already had been succoring, comforting, and supporting our family, especially in the weeks leading up to Nancy’s death. There were marvelous spiritual experiences that I now recognize to be blessings that come from the healing and strengthening power available to us because of the Savior’s Atonement. And just knowing that the Savior was already taking care of us in a very individualized way was, in and of itself, immensely comforting. Like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego of old, He has been with us in the “fiery furnace” (Daniel 3:17) of our affliction.
I also learned that there are some things required of us in order to receive the Lord’s comfort and healing. Most importantly, we have to trust in Him. That can be a difficult thing to do. Why should I trust in God when He could have prevented Nancy’s death in the first place? In answer to this question, I continually ponder something that the Lord told the Prophet Joseph Smith:
“Ye cannot behold with your natural eyes, for the present time, the design of your God concerning those things which shall come hereafter, and the glory which shall follow after much tribulation” (D&C 58:3).
We were blessed with many signs that the manner and timing of Nancy’s death were according to the Lord’s will. I have come to understand that an omniscient and loving Father has allowed us to suffer these things because, in His perfect design for our family’s exaltation, this affliction is somehow necessary. Knowing that, I understand that my part in His design is not just to endure it but to “endure it well” (D&C 121:8). To the extent that I can consecrate this tribulation to Him, I will be not only succored but also sanctified. I have already experienced this in many ways.
I have counseled our children to do what I have learned in this process myself:
Let the pain of hard experiences drive you toward greater discipleship.
Pour out your heart in prayer.
If you feel anger toward God for allowing tragedies to happen, beseech Him to replace that anger with faith and submission.
Covenant that you will love Him and be faithful to the end.
Drink from the word of God constantly—from the scriptures and talks and writings of modern prophets and inspired teachers.
Go to the temple with a hunger to be taught the things of eternity.
Find people for whom a personal crisis is becoming a crisis of faith, and strengthen them with your testimony of these doctrines.

That first trip to the mountains without my grandfather was 14 years ago. I now have a son. He turned five this year. Last week, we returned from his first trip to the mountains. Grandma McClary is now well into her 80s, so my mother comes each year to visit and help with the meals.
I watched my little boy this year as one discovery came upon another. I saw his wide-eyed amazement when he caught his first fish. I saw the excitement in his face whenever he gazed upstream and saw my father—his Grandpa McClary—waving to him.
I know the secret of the Windmakers now. It doesn’t have much to do with tall mountains, clear streams, or old blue fishing caps. The secret is about fathers and sons, and how they stay close.
The first evening, as the three of us sat at stream’s edge eating gingersnaps and listening to the water rush by, the wind began to blow. I pulled my little son close to me and softly said, “Your great-grandpa used to call these mountains the Windmakers. Do you want to know why?”
He said yes, so I began to share a secret and a tradition with a new generation, father to son.

Not everyone agreed with him about the valley. Despite its streams and grassy fields, the new settlement was drier and more desolate than any place the Saints had ever gathered. From the moment he arrived, Sam Brannan had pleaded with Brigham to continue on to the green fields and fertile soil of the California coast.16
“I am going to stop right here,” Brigham had told Sam. “I am going to build a city here. I am going to build a temple here.” He knew the Lord wanted the Saints to settle in the Salt Lake Valley, far from other western U.S. settlements, where he was sure other emigrants would soon take up residence. Brigham appointed Sam to serve as president over the Church in California, however, and sent him back to San Francisco Bay with a letter for the Saints.17
“If you choose to tarry where you are, you are at liberty to do so,” Brigham noted in his letter. Yet he invited them to join the Saints in the mountains. “We wish to make this a stronghold, a rallying point, a more immediate gathering place than any other,” he told them. California, on the other hand, was to be a way station for Saints headed to the valley.18

The Liahona came into my hands before the Book of Mormon did. I remember in the 1960’s, when my oldest daughter had hepatitis, the missionaries came and gave me a magazine for her to read. When I read it, I was impressed by President David O. McKay’s message, “No success in life can compensate for failure in the home” (General Conference, April 1964). This message made me think about the home I was raised in.

The Great Genghis Khan Look-Alike Contest This very mean-looking dog was really a “pussycat,” and it followed Fred home. He needed money for Duz’s upkeep, so when the contest came along, he had to try to win it. Easy to read.Marjorie Weinman Sharmat7–10 years

I’d like to begin by sharing a story that touches my heart.
One evening a man called his five sheep to come into the shelter for the night. His family watched with great interest as he simply called, “Come on,” and immediately all five heads lifted and turned in his direction. Four sheep broke into a run toward him. With loving-kindness he gently patted each of the four on the head. The sheep knew his voice and loved him.
But the fifth sheep didn’t come running. She was a large ewe that a few weeks earlier had been given away by her owner, who reported that she was wild, wayward, and always leading the other sheep astray. The new owner accepted the sheep and staked her in his own field for a few days so she would learn to stay put. He patiently taught her to love him and the other sheep until eventually she had only a short rope around her neck but was no longer staked down.
That evening as his family watched, the man approached the ewe, which stood at the edge of the field, and again he gently said, “Come on. You aren’t tied down anymore. You are free.” Then lovingly he reached out, placed his hand on her head, and walked back with her and the other sheep toward the shelter.1

If you think your challenges are insurmountable, let me tell you of a man we met in a small village outside of Hyderabad, India, in 2006. This man exemplified a willingness to change. Appa Rao Nulu was born in rural India. When he was three years old, he contracted polio and was left physically disabled. His society taught him that his potential was severely limited. However, as a young adult he met our missionaries. They taught him of a greater potential, both in this life and in the eternity to come. He was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. With a significantly raised vision, he set a goal to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and to serve a full-time mission. In 1986 he was ordained an elder and called to serve in India. Walking was not easy—he did his best, using a cane in each hand, and he fell often—but quitting was never an option. He made a commitment to honorably and devotedly serve a mission, and he did.

When we met Brother Nulu, nearly 20 years after his mission, he cheerfully greeted us where the road ended and led us down an uneven dirt path to the two-room home he shared with his wife and three children. It was an extremely hot and uncomfortable day. He still walked with great difficulty, but there was no self-pity. Through personal diligence, he has become a teacher, providing schooling for the village children. When we entered his modest house, he immediately took me to a corner and pulled out a box that contained his most important possessions. He wanted me to see a piece of paper. It read, “With good wishes and blessings to Elder Nulu, a courageous and happy missionary; [dated] June 25, 1987; [signed] Boyd K. Packer.” On that occasion, when then-Elder Packer visited India and spoke to a group of missionaries, he affirmed to Elder Nulu his potential. In essence, what Brother Nulu was telling me that day in 2006 was that the gospel had changed him—permanently!

On this visit to the Nulu home, we were accompanied by the mission president. He was there to interview Brother Nulu, his wife, and his children—for the parents to receive their endowments and be sealed and for the children to be sealed to their parents. We also presented the family with arrangements for them to travel to the Hong Kong China Temple for these ordinances. They wept with joy as their long-awaited dream was to be realized.

As the Aguilars prepared for baptism, their faith was tried in many ways. Shortly after they set a baptismal date, Manuel lost his job, and he and Corina were unsure how they would pay for rent and utilities, let alone food for their children. Although they received some financial help from family, it was not enough to meet all of their financial obligations.
Not seeing any other alternative, the couple decided to have a garage sale. They first sold the few luxuries they had in their apartment, and then they began selling whatever they could spare. After about a week, they had come up with enough money to pay the rent for that month but still felt fearful about how they would endure the months ahead.
It wasn’t long before the members of the branch came to their aid. The branch president met with Manuel to see what other assistance they needed. And as a branch they did what they could to help the Aguilars through the situation.
As the Aguilars continued to follow the commandments and did everything they could to provide for their family, they saw many blessings—including new job opportunities. They learned that even in times of trial, the Lord promises that He will provide for us if we are obedient.
On November 9, 2008, Manuel, Corina, Jovani, and Lupito Aguilar entered the waters of baptism. The youngest, Mariela, looked forward to turning eight and being baptized. Manuel soon received the Aaronic Priesthood and later the Melchizedek Priesthood.
A year later Manuel and Corina entered the temple to receive their endowment, and they are now preparing to return to the temple to have their children sealed to them.
As the first members of the Church in their family, Manuel and Corina are pioneers who, through their examples of faith and sacrifice, are setting a righteous pattern for their posterity and for others. Not only have they helped their children receive the blessings of the gospel, but they have also shown friends and extended family the joy that has come to their lives through obedience to the commandments. Some have also met with the missionaries and been baptized.

I had trouble respecting my drivers’ ed teacher when I was a sophomore. I felt like he was unfair to me and could sometimes be kind of mean. I really wanted a better relationship, so I looked for a time when he taught me something I didn’t know before and I said thank you. Though he was still not my favorite teacher, I was able to learn some valuable things from him.
Hope H., 18, Utah, USA

In 2005, the Mozambique Maputo Mission was organized and included the Portuguese-speaking countries of Mozambique and Angola. Three years later, the first young missionaries, Elders Bell, Tarwater, Muocha, and Estevão were assigned from Mozambique to serve in Angola. These missionaries noted the strength of Church members and leaders. The missionaries’ early investigators were nearly all from member referrals.

For example, when we were leaving Zimbabwe, the plan was for my dad to go to Afghanistan for a year. The rest of my family would live with my mom’s parents. However, right before my dad left, we found out they weren’t sending anyone into Afghanistan for a while. That meant we wouldn’t be moving to live with family. As happy as I was to have my dad, this abrupt change was really hard for all of us.
I was mad, and unfortunately I took my anger out on Heavenly Father for a while. I remember praying one night and basically just yelling about why I was mad. But despite my anger, He helped me eventually humble myself and feel peace. It was like He was saying, “Whatever happens, good can come of it. Just trust me. I know it’s hard right now, but it’s all going to work out in the end.” I was able to calm down and think about things. I needed to learn to trust Heavenly Father and be OK with things not going according to my plan, because His plan is always better.

Some years ago I read an article in the Era of Youth section of our Improvement Era magazine entitled “Bind on Thy Sandals.” It told of the less-than-spectacular career of a quarterback on the football team of a small, rural high school. This young man managed to make the team, but it was clear he was not going to be all-state or all-American. Indeed, it didn’t look like he was going to be all-anything, except perhaps all battered and bruised. He was the fourth of the four quarterbacks.
By season’s end he had never been called into a game and had given up hope. During the final game of the year he pulled off his shoes, wrapped himself in a blanket, and settled down on the bench to watch his buddies play.
Midway through the game he heard the coach shout his name. He was startled and wondered if he had been mistaken. Then it came again, right from the coach’s lips, “Hey, you! Get in there and move the ball!”
What should he do? His first impulse was to lapse into a coma. His second was to pretend he didn’t hear. His third was to say, “Wait, coach. Wait while I put on my shoes.” He did the only manly thing. Strapping on his helmet as he ran, he made straight for the huddle; his white-stockinged feet were conspicuous to the players on both teams, as well as to the spectators and the coach, who also must have been ready to lapse into a coma.
He called the play, but the shock of his first game was obviously a little disconcerting. By the time he took the snap from center he had forgotten the play he had called. His teammates moved to the right, but he gamely went left. There, alone against the world, he met the opposition head-on and was swallowed up in the snarl of the onrushing linemen.
He said later, “No one expected me to make a touchdown. Even running the wrong way was understandable. But there was no excuse for a quarterback without shoes.” (See Improvement Era, Sept. 1969, p. 44.)

When I got baptized, I started hearing a lot about the temple. Other members would always talk about how important it was to them. It was something that always brought peace to my heart and motivated me to move forward. I knew that I wanted to go there one day and experience the joy that they had felt.
Later, I chose to serve a mission and was called to the Australia Brisbane Mission. Entering the Hamilton New Zealand Temple for the first time was the best feeling ever. I will never forget that experience. The words I would use to describe how I felt are joy, peace, and happiness. I really felt Heavenly Father’s love for me, and the Spirit was strong. It motivated me to always stay strong throughout my mission and afterward.

The youth of the Naperville Illinois Stake took on an ambitious service project to help in landscaping Aurora University. The youth wanted a service project that would be a long-lasting addition to their community.
Working through the president of Aurora University and under the direction of the physical facilities manager, the youth undertook some hard tasks. They removed trees and dug trenches to make walkways. They replanted areas with new plants, shrubs, and trees. After a day of hard work, their efforts really made a difference, and it put the university’s landscaping plans ahead of schedule by nearly a year.
In spite of sore muscles and some new blisters, when asked if they would do it again, the answer was, “You bet!”

Even in those early years I somehow grasped the idea that I alone must work out my salvation, and that I could not blame anyone else if I didn’t. Today I cannot identify the exact teaching of this principle, but I suspect that it came from those testimonies I heard in the Second Ward, the Sunday School class, my parents, and the repetition of the second Article of Faith, which I repeated many times in that day. This article states: “We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression.”
I made an early resolve to be good and thus escape the punishment. The word punish was also quite common. My father and mother used it to explain to me why I was being spanked, both before the event and after. I grew up with the sure knowledge that I was responsible for my own acts of good and evil.

I had put my trust in those large hands many times. My thoughts returned to the day that I was stuck halfway down a turret at Caernarfon Castle. The turret, like the rest of the castle, was dark and made of huge granite blocks. The stairs spiraled upwards and were worn from centuries of footsteps. Tourists milled around the ancient landmark. Laughs, shreaks, and voices speaking several languages echoed off the damp, cold walls. Climbing up the turret had seemed relatively easy. I kept to the outside wall where the stairs were wide and headed toward the light at the top. The route down, however, meant teetering on the sliver of stone step in the center of the tower while hordes of huge adults streamed by me, flailing cameras and bags that hit me as they passed. Instead of heading toward the light above I was going down into a pit of darkness. I was terrified.
I could hear people above me beginning their descent. I knew that I would cause a huge traffic jam unless I moved, but I was frozen. “Dad,” I whispered. “Dad.” The sound bounced back hauntingly. I heard footsteps, then a strong voice that I recognized. “Sian, take one step down; just one.”
“No,” I gasped, “I’ll fall.”
“It’s okay,” came the reply. “I’m right in front of you.”
I looked down, my stomach churning. I saw his hand reach out around the central pillar. I took a deep breath and stepped down.
“Good girl. Now one more,” came the encouraging voice. I kept my eyes on my feet and my hand on the clammy stone pillar as Dad coaxed me onward.
Suddenly there was light and green grass and safety. I ran through the archway into the castle’s courtyard. I was down. I was free. I looked for my father. He was standing at the archway watching me, smiling at my excitement and conquest.

Growing up in a small village in Côte d’Ivoire, Elder D. Martin Goury dreamed of becoming a clergyman and serving others.
In October 1992, while in London, England, learning English and getting an education, he met Latter-day Saint missionaries. The missionaries, one of whom was the only native French-speaking missionary in London, gave Elder Goury a copy of the Book of Mormon in French.
He started reading the book and soon received a witness of its truthfulness. When a new pair of missionaries came to his apartment a few months later, he joined the Church. “I remember being very happy,” he said.
His joy increased as the missionaries taught him about the priesthood. “They explained the meaning of the priesthood and how I could use that to serve other people. For me, that was my dream coming true,” Elder Goury said. “I was delighted.”

I am the only child left at home, so I don’t get to see a lot of my family. We talk on the phone a lot and send e-mail as often as possible. When I do see them, we just laugh and have a good time. But communicating with them is most important.Michelle Brewer, 17Mustang Ward, Oklahoma City Oklahoma South Stake

That’s just as it should be. If we are truly disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ, we will reach out with love and understanding to all of our neighbors at all times, particularly in times of need. A recent Church News carried a story of two women who are dear friends, a “Jewish physician from New York and [a] stay-at-home [Latter-day Saint] mom of six from Utah, both a long way from home in Dallas [Texas].”
Our member reported: “If our friendship had been put through a computer matching service, I doubt we would have made it past the first hurdle. …
“… A woman with a busy medical practice, I assumed, would have little desire to discuss the color of the hospitality napkins for PTA.
“Funny thing about assumptions—they can cut away the very roots of something that could flourish and grow if given a chance. I am forever grateful that assumptions were cast aside” (Shauna Erickson, “Unlikely Friends Sharing a Lifetime,” Church News, 18 Aug. 2001, 10).