Gospel Story Finder

I staggered away from the table saw, my ears ringing, my stomach churning. Warm blood reached my elbow and flowed to the cement floor. With the palm of my undamaged hand, I cradled the mess, terrified at the sight of the red blood, white bone, and yellowing skin.
“Tim, what happened? Tim? Tim!”
I heard a voice yelling my name. It was Jeff, the only other person in the shop. Through blurred vision, I saw him running toward me.
“Go. Go get help! Call an ambulance! Hurry!” I screamed, and Jeff ran out the door.
Now alone, I lay on a large roll of plastic to stave off my dizziness. I had just finished a year of college and landed my dream job—working for the United States Forest Service in the remote mountains of southwestern Colorado. A week earlier I had received my mission call to Melbourne, Australia. I was to finish my summer job in Colorado, then report to the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.
Where are they? I wondered. I started to get up, thinking I would go outside, get in the truck, and drive myself to the hospital. With dizziness returning quickly, I lay back down on the slippery plastic and closed my eyes. Soon I heard the wail of an ambulance.
“He’s in here.” I recognized Jeff’s voice.
Opening my eyes, I saw Jeff and a uniformed man and woman from the ambulance standing over me. Almost simultaneously, the man grabbed my cut hand and the woman took my pulse.
“You’re going to be all right,” he said as he wrapped my hand with white gauze. I was relieved the injury was out of sight.
“How old are you?” asked the woman.
I whispered the answer. My throat was dry, making it difficult to speak. She asked more questions about allergies, past medical problems, and medications I was taking. I responded quickly until she got to her last question.
“What family member do you want me to call to come to the hospital?”
I thought of my family, more than 950 kilometers away. Mom would be eating lunch at work, and Dad would be sleeping after working a late-night shift as a security guard. My younger sister, Erin, would be in school.
“Tim?”
“There isn’t anyone who can come now. I don’t have any family in Colorado,” I replied. As they lifted me into the ambulance and drove toward the hospital, I remembered times that summer when I had hiked into isolated wilderness areas to repair eroding trails and hadn’t seen anyone for days. When I came back into town, I always felt detached and alone, the way I felt now.
“Tim.” It was the woman from the ambulance. Her voice sounded distant. She continued, “Is there someone else I could call—a minister or a priest?”
I thought of the small branch in Gunnison, Colorado. The members had been friendly to me during the past few months, but I didn’t want to bother them with this problem. I looked down. The blood had saturated the white gauze. I winced when I thought of the ripped flesh inside.
“Call Willy Akers or Bud Smith,” I said at last. President Akers had just been called as branch president, and Bud Smith was his counselor.
“I know Willy. I’ll call him when we get inside,” she said with assurance.
The ambulance stopped in front of the small hospital. I saw the doctor waiting for me to be wheeled in. Once inside, I looked around at the small emergency room as they placed me on an examination table. The doctor spoke calmly to the nurse as he unwrapped the dark, red gauze. I looked away.
Finally, he finished and directed the nurse to wrap it again. Without a word, he left. I could hear his voice on a telephone in the next room and knew he was speaking about me. He stopped talking after a few minutes and entered the emergency room.
“Tim,” he started, speaking slowly, “you’ve cut yourself pretty badly, and I don’t have the equipment or expertise to do much for you. I just called for a helicopter to fly you to a hospital in Denver. They will do everything they can to save your hand there. Meanwhile, I’ll give you some pain medication to make things more comfortable for you on the way. Do you have any questions?”
I managed a weak no, then thought about what he had just said. The words “save your hand” kept repeating themselves. I had never had a cut that required more than a few stitches, and now I faced the possibility of losing one of my hands.
“It’s a good thing this happened while I was home for lunch or you wouldn’t have caught me,” President Akers said as he entered the small room. Brother Smith followed close behind. “They tell me you get to go on a helicopter ride.” I nodded, too weak to speak.
“Would you like a blessing?” Bud asked. I nodded again, and in the curtained partition of the two-bed emergency room in a small hospital, I was promised two things: my hand would be all right, and I would be able to fulfill my mission to Australia. President Akers went back to work, and Brother Smith stayed with me until I was loaded onto the helicopter.
“Now I’m really alone,” I thought as I flew above Gunnison. I knew a few people in this small town of 6,000, but in Denver, a city of half a million people, I knew no one.
But I was wrong. When the helicopter landed and I was wheeled through the open doors of the hospital, a missionary couple from the Colorado Denver South Mission greeted me. Their gray hair and warm smiles reminded me of my grandparents.
“Your branch president’s wife called and asked if we’d visit you sometime this week, and we came right over,” Sister Jeffreys explained. They sat by my bed until late that afternoon when the surgery team had assembled and was ready to operate.
I wanted Elder and Sister Jeffreys to stay, but we knew they would not be allowed in during the operation. I said good-bye and watched them walk down the long hallway.
“Hello. I’m Lile Hileman, one of the anesthesiologists here,” a man said, approaching my bed. “I was supposed to get off at 4:30, but when I saw you were the only Mormon besides me here, I thought I’d ask if it would be all right for me to be your anesthetist.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” I joked for the first time since cutting myself.
“For you, I’ll learn fast,” he said, laughing.
It took the surgeons more than 14 hours to repair the damage, and I was in Denver for just as many days.
The day after the accident, my mom flew to Denver from our home in Orem, Utah, and she was greeted at the hospital by the full-time missionaries. For the three days she was in Denver, she stayed in the home of Church members she had never met.
After my mom returned home, and during the ensuing weeks, I continued to receive visits from the Jeffreys and Brother Hileman. In addition, six members of the local singles ward came three times each week to cheer me up. The night before I left, they all “kidnapped” me from my room and took me to an ice-cream shop close to the hospital.
I flew home, and after six more operations and months of therapy, I was able to use my hand again. Although my mission call was delayed six months, I served two years with added vigor, for I now could teach the people of Melbourne about the caring brothers and sisters who they’ll always have as part of their Church family.

Brenda Bates, 16, worked with her neighbors. “The husband is virtually blind,” she explains. “And the wife has respiratory problems. I did at least 30 hours of service weeding, planting flowers, and cleaning inside the house. But the most important thing is that I learned to love these people.”

I was raised by wonderful parents who loved and faithfully taught us, their children, the gospel. Sadly, my beloved parents struggled in their marriage for years. I was a Primary child when I was told that they would likely divorce someday and my siblings and I would need to choose which parent to live with. As a result, for years I experienced significant anxiety; however, a gift from my Heavenly Father ultimately helped change everything for me—my patriarchal blessing.
At age 11, increasingly worried about my parents’ relationship, I deeply desired my patriarchal blessing. I knew that my Heavenly Father knew me perfectly and knew my specific circumstances. And I also knew I would receive direction from Him. Immediately after my 12th birthday, I received my patriarchal blessing. That was more than half a century ago, but I vividly remember the details of that sacred experience.
My patriarchal blessing was critically important to me when I was young for numerous reasons. First, through the power of the Holy Ghost, my patriarchal blessing helped me understand my true eternal identity—who I really was and who I could become. It helped me know, as President Nelson has taught, that I was “a son of God,” “a [child] of the covenant,” and “a disciple of Jesus Christ.” I knew that I was known and loved by my Heavenly Father and my Savior and that They were personally involved in my life. This helped me desire to draw closer to Them and increase my faith and trust in Them.
I studied my patriarchal blessing frequently and, as a youth, often daily, which helped me feel the comforting, guiding influence of the Holy Ghost, who helped reduce my anxiety as I followed His promptings. This increased my desire to actively invite light, truth, and the Holy Ghost by studying my scriptures and praying daily and trying to more diligently study and follow the teachings of God’s prophet and apostles. My patriarchal blessing also helped me desire to be more submissive to the will of my Heavenly Father, and that focus helped me experience great joy, despite my personal circumstances.
I received spiritual strength each time I studied my patriarchal blessing. When my parents finally did divorce, my patriarchal blessing, as President Thomas S. Monson taught, had for me become “a precious and priceless personal treasure,” even “a personal Liahona.”
It was vital for me to receive my patriarchal blessing while I was young and while my testimony was still growing. And I am forever grateful that my parents and bishop understood that my desire indicated I was ready.

Participate in Church functions and meetings. Accept opportunities to take appropriate assignments when given the opportunity. I will always be grateful to a good man who helped our boys on a continuing basis while it was not possible for him to take part in all the Church programs. He was well loved, and he loved the boys to whom he gave time and guidance.

A few years ago a member of the Church shared a copy of the Book of Mormon with an Amish friend in Ohio, USA. The friend began to read the book and could not put it down. He and his wife were baptized, and within seven months two more Amish couples were converted and baptized members of the Church. Their children were baptized several months later.

These three families decided to remain in their community and continue their Amish lifestyle even though they had left the Amish faith. However, they were subjected to “shunning” by their close-knit Amish neighbors. Shunning means that no one in their Amish community will talk to them, work with them, do business with them, or associate with them in any way. This includes not just friends but also family members.

Initially, these Amish Saints felt alone and isolated as even their children were subjected to shunning and were removed from their Amish schools. Their children have endured shunning by grandparents, cousins, and close neighbors. Even some of the older children of these Amish families, who did not accept the gospel, will not talk to or even acknowledge their parents. These families have struggled to recover from the social and economic effects of shunning, but they are succeeding.

Their faith remains strong. The adversity and opposition of shunning has caused them to be steadfast and immovable. A year after being baptized, the families were sealed in the temple and continue faithfully attending the temple on a weekly basis. They have found strength through receiving ordinances and entering into and honoring covenants. They are all active in their Church group and continue searching for ways to share the light and knowledge of the gospel with their extended families and community through acts of kindness and service.

When I was called to be a Primary teacher, I felt unhappy and a hard, swollen lump formed in my throat. A convert of only a few short months, I had looked forward to holding a Church position. But teaching in the Primary? There were countless other Church positions far more attractive to a first year college student. What could have inspired that calling? I accepted with pretended enthusiasm.
As I was awaiting my turn to be set apart, I silently asked my Father in Heaven to somehow help me understand. The words of the blessing gave me the answer—and the Spirit bore witness to them: “You have been called to teach in the Primary so that you may learn the plain and simple truths that you were unable to learn as a child, because you were not a member of the Lord’s Church …”
As the pride and doubt in my heart dissolved, a feeling of love encircled me—love for my Heavenly Father and for the children he had entrusted to my care. I would never again doubt his infinite wisdom and love for me.

There’s no way we could measure the great boost in strength that our members get from visits by Church leaders. Members came from all over Spain when President Gordon B. Hinckley of the First Presidency and Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve visited there for a regional conference. Forty members even flew in from Las Palmas, in the Canary Islands. There was a great spiritual resurgence among Latter-day Saints.

In one of our conversations, I asked her, “What is your secret? How do you share the gospel with others?”

She told me, “It is very simple. Every day before I leave my house, I pray, asking Heavenly Father to direct me to someone who needs the gospel in their life. I sometimes take a Book of Mormon to share with them or pass-along cards from the missionaries—and when I start talking to someone, I simply ask them if they have heard about the Church.”

Susana also said, “Other times I just smile while I am waiting for the train. One day a man looked at me and said, ‘What are you smiling about?’ He kind of caught me off guard.

“I replied, ‘I’m smiling because I’m happy!’

“He then said, ‘And what are you so happy about?’

“I answered, ‘I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and that makes me happy. Have you heard about it?’”

When he said no, she gave him a pass-along card and invited him to attend the upcoming Sunday services. The following Sunday, she greeted him at the door.

When I was a young man in high school, one of my passions was American football. I played middle linebacker. The coach worked the team hard, teaching us the basics. We practiced until the skills became natural and automatic. During one play against our biggest rival, I had an experience that has helped me over the years. We were on defense. I knew my assigned opponent, and as the play unfolded, he moved to my right into the line of scrimmage. There was a lot of noise from players and fans. I reacted as the coach had taught us and followed my man into the line, not knowing if he had the ball. To my surprise, I felt the ball partially in my hands. I gave it a tug, but my opponent didn’t let go. As we tugged back and forth, amid all the noise I heard a voice yelling, “Packer, tackle him!” That was enough to bring me to my senses, so I dropped him on the spot.

I have wondered how I heard that voice above all the other noise. I had become acquainted with the voice of the coach during the practices, and I had learned to trust it. I knew that what he taught worked.

Fix-It One Saturday morning the TV doesn’t work, and neither Emma’s parents nor the repairman can fix it. Emma is unconsolable even by balloons, Mom’s (and the cat’s) singing, and a horsy ride. Then Mom reads her a story.David McPhail2–5 years

Sarah and Roger were small when their parents had fled from England to Holland with a group of Separatists, or Pilgrims, but they still remembered the persecutions of King James I. Ellen had been born in Holland, and she loved it because it was home to her. The Dutch people were good to the Pilgrims, allowing them to worship as they pleased. But now the Pilgrim children were speaking mostly Dutch, and the older ones were marrying into Dutch families.
“No one would ever know you’re a little English girl,” Mama once said to Ellen.
“We need to find a country of our own,” Papa declared.
In church on Sundays Ellen bowed her head and listened to Elder Brewster pray. He always thanked Heavenly Father for the kindness the Dutch people had shown them, but lately he had been adding, “Please don’t let us lose our English heritage. Guide us to a land where we can worship as we desire and where we can bring up our children as Englishmen.”
Finally, the prayers were answered, and everyone knew that America was to be their land of promise. A London company agreed to pay their passage there in return for furs, fish, and lumber from America. A patent was given them to settle in the northern part of the Virginia colony. What the Pilgrims didn’t know was that the settlers in Virginia were still bound to the Anglican Church, because King James was not interested in granting freedom of worship to any of his subjects anywhere. However, the king was very interested in the wealth that the English emigrants would send back to England from America.
Since not everyone could go to America at once, it was agreed that Elder Brewster would go with the first group. Pastor John Robinson would remain with those who planned to come later.
So on a July morning in 1620, the emigrants gathered on the deck of the Speedwell and knelt with Pastor Robinson. He stretched his hands toward heaven and, with tears streaming down his cheeks, commended them to the Lord. Then he disembarked.
The people on shore were also crying as they watched the departing ship. Aboard the Speedwell, the rails were crowded with excited, heavyhearted passengers frantically waving a last farewell to those still lining the quay. Ellen waved at Sarah and Roger until they were finally lost from view.
They sailed for England where the Mayflower awaited them. From there the two ships started for America but had to turn back when the Speedwell began leaking badly. The passengers on the Speedwell had to board the Mayflower. Finally the Mayflower, with 102 passengers and its crew, set sail for America on September 16, 1620. Of these voyagers, only thirty-five were Pilgrims. The others were either members of the Anglican Church or strangers and had no intention of changing their religion.

This year my family decided to attend conference live for the first time. We came to Utah from Mexico. I loved when President Monson spoke. I liked his story about the man who was sick and couldn’t see or hear but managed to tell President Monson that he wanted a priesthood blessing.
Adrian G., age 10, Mexico

My sister and I felt an emptiness because we had no idea who our Laurunen forebears were. All we knew is that they had come from Finland to America in 1901. So in August 2004, my sister Janice and cousin Sandy joined my husband, Charlie, and me on a trip to discover our ancestors.

In the process of researching for our trip, Sandy discovered a two-page report on the Laurunen Homestead, built in 1605. The earliest mention of our family was in 1569 in the town of Kauhajoki.

Once in Finland, we rented a car and left early the next morning for the long drive to Kauhajoki. We had a hard time finding it and were about to give up when Charlie caught sight of a small airport. We drove there to ask for help. Sandy showed a young man our report, and he kindly offered to take us to the town library. I am sure we would never have found Kauhajoki by ourselves since it is well hidden down a forested highway. It seemed the Lord was leading us in our journey.

At the library a young woman gave us a map, circling the Lutheran church and cemetery. We found the church easily. After two hours of research, with the help of the pastor and several clerks, one of them called our Laurunen relatives and told them they had visitors from America. They came immediately with family genealogies dating back to the year 1550.

With the church bookkeeper as our interpreter, we walked through the beautifully manicured cemetery. Sandy stood at her grandfather’s grave for the first time. Later, she saw a picture of him and held his violin. We were all deeply touched as the void we had felt before was being filled.

Then our Finnish cousins drove us to the family homestead, which was pictured on our two-page report. They told us that our family had owned as much land as the eye could see. The house on the family homestead was enormous and had housed Laurunen families as far back as 1550. When the Russian military came into Kauhajoki, they used the homestead for military headquarters. They burned down the church and all other homes in the area. Everyone, including our family, fled to the woods for safety. After the Russians left, our grandfather led the building of the new church that we had seen earlier. Eventually the land around the homestead was divided and sold.

In 2005 Janice, Sandy, and I returned to Kauhajoki for another visit with our newly found cousins and more research. In 2006 we had our first Laurunen family reunion in America, and 15 of our Finnish cousins joined us. Eighty-nine family members celebrated the lives of our grandparents.

What a joy it has been to discover such a rich, fascinating family history and know more about who I am and where I came from. Family history is the work of the Lord.

I was baptized with my parents when I was 16 years old. My younger brother, Kyung-Hwan, who was 14 years old, joined the Church through my uncle, Young Jik Lee, and invited us to his church. Each of the 10 members in our family belonged to a different church, so we were happy to find the truth and wanted to share that happiness we found in the gospel of Jesus Christ after we were baptized.
My father was the most excited among us to learn and share the truth. He used to wake up early in the morning to study the scriptures for over two hours every day. After work he went with the missionaries to visit our family, friends, and neighbors nearly every day. Seven months after we were baptized, 23 of my family and relatives became members of the Church. That was followed by the miracle of seeing 130 people baptized in the following year through my father’s member missionary work.
Family history was also important to him, and he completed eight generations of our ancestors. From that time on, the fruits of our family conversion, started by my 14-year-old brother, have increased in countless ways not only among the living but also among the dead. Building upon the work of my father and others, our family tree now spans to 32 generations, and we are now completing temple work for many branches. Today I am amazed and feel great joy linking our ancestors and our descendants.

On so many occasions I have wanted to write to the First Presidency and General Authorities and ask them, “How did you know?” Time after time as I hear and then read the conference talks, it is as if the Lord is speaking directly to me about specific concerns I have. From these experiences I have learned how much Heavenly Father loves me and wants to help me be a better person. The conference messages have reached me wherever I have been, even in faraway places. Sometimes the messages have been a call to repentance, sometimes guidance, and sometimes comfort. I have often felt like Heavenly Father’s favorite child as I see how carefully He watches over me through these messages.
Charleen Crenshaw, Montana, USA

President Nelson’s powerful testimony of Jesus Christ is unrelenting. He spoke at the October 2023 general conference while recovering from an injury to his back.
“As I have wrestled with the intense pain caused by my recent injury, I have felt even deeper appreciation for Jesus Christ and the incomprehensible gift of His Atonement. Think of it! The Savior suffered ‘pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind’ so that He can comfort us, heal us, rescue us in times of need. Jesus Christ described His experience in Gethsemane and on Calvary: ‘Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore.’ My injury has caused me to reflect again and again on ‘the greatness of the Holy One of Israel.’ During my healing, the Lord has manifested His divine power in peaceful and unmistakable ways.

Over the years, I’ve come to understand something that happened to me as a teenager. I was in a hurry to get somewhere one day when I felt, not heard, a voice, which I knew then was from God. It was the thought: “Someday, when you know who you really are, you will be sorry that you didn’t use your time better.” It didn’t make much sense to me then because I considered I was using my time well and I thought I knew who I was. Now, years later, I am really beginning to know who I am—and who you are—and why we will be so sorry if we do not invest our time well.

Seven-year-old Jamie loved her mother dearly. The family had known for nearly a year that their wife and mother was dying of cancer. The father and seven children fasted and prayed; they pled with the Lord to heal her. Everything possible was done for their mother, yet at the end of three painfully difficult months, she passed from this life.
In the first hours following her death, the father brought the grieving family together. After prayer, the children went to their own rooms to prepare for bed. Jamie, who had spent many hours with her mother and was devoted to her, knelt at her own bedside. “Heavenly Father,” she prayed through her tears, “we thank thee for the great mom you gave us. We thank thee for helping us try to make her well. Help us to be good so we can live with her again.” Without a hint of bitterness, this little seven-year-old girl continued for several minutes in a sweet attitude of peaceful prayer, reflecting her understanding and acceptance of her mother’s death.
Jamie was a child at peace. How did she come to that peace? She had been prepared by parents with spiritual understanding. Such preparation brings peace.

John D. Amos was born on November 2, 1961, in Lafayette, Louisiana, to John N. Amos Sr. and Dorothy Victorian Amos. He met his future wife, Michelle Evette Wright, through classes they took together in college, sharing a major in electrical engineering.
Michelle, already a member of the Church, invited John to a church dance on their first date. After that, he started learning more about the Church and the Savior’s central role in the restored gospel.

With one of my daughters, I was baptized a member of the Church on 25 July 1993. One of my other daughters, however, listened to the missionary discussions with us but was not baptized. She later took the discussions again but still was not baptized. I eventually decided to give her a subscription to the Liahona (Spanish). This added help opened the way for the Spirit to witness to her, and a few months later she was converted. Now I wait eagerly for the messages that inspire and uplift the spirit.
Mireya Josefina Almea de Rodriguez,Bolívar Branch, Barcelona Venezuela Stake