Gospel Story Finder

You don’t have to be on a mission to do those things. You can take any of the principles of the gospel and work on them until they work for you. Don’t be like the girl I read about in the paper. Her mother promised her $2,000 if she could go for a year without taking one drink of an alcoholic beverage. Her mother wanted her to see that she could enjoy her new life away at college—enjoy friends and social events without participating in the drinking. And she did it! One year later she testified that she had indeed proven to herself that it could be done. But do you know what she did with the money she won? She threw a great big beer bash for all her friends. The liquor flowed freely, and they danced in the streets as they drank. She had learned a principle and then threw it away. Don’t do that. Work on a principle until it is part of you—a habit, like praying every morning or reading the scriptures every night, and then hang onto it and move on to tackle another one. There are people all around you who don’t have the light of the gospel in their lives. Share with them—friends at school, at work, your neighbors, the stranger on the bus. The more you give away, the more you’ll have.

The trek across the Iowa territory was a nightmare. Spring thaws and heavy rains turned roads into mud holes. Wagons would sink into the mud and have to be pulled out. During one week in April, the Saints could travel less than one kilometer a day. Food supplies ran out, and men had to stop and work for local residents to earn money to purchase more. William Pitt’s brass band even presented concerts in towns along the way to raise funds.
The march was also slowed by families traveling with small children and by sick people who needed special care. As the Saints crossed Iowa, they established camping places where they planted crops to assist those who would follow.
The main group reached the Missouri River on 14 June. The trip across Iowa had taken 131 days and covered some 485 kilometers. The next year the first company of pioneers traveled 1,690 kilometers to the Salt Lake Valley in only 111 days.

Mrs. Jennings held up a big glass jar for everyone in Henry’s class to see. “This is a Thankful Jar. Every day, I’ll ask one of you to share something you’re thankful for.”
Henry raised his hand. “Like what?”
“Anything,” Mrs. Jennings said. “Your family. A pet. Your friends. I’ll write down what you say and put it in the jar.”
How could Henry choose only one thing? All day he thought about the Thankful Jar. When Mommy picked him up, he couldn’t wait to tell her all about it. “I want to make a Thankful Jar for home! We can all write down things we’re thankful for. Maybe we can fill the whole jar!”
“Great idea!” Mommy said.
“Will you help me?” he asked. “I can’t spell all the words.”
“Of course I will.”
While Henry ate lunch, he thought of what he was thankful for. He waited while Mommy put his baby sister in her crib. Finally, Mommy helped him find a big jar. She cut some paper into wide strips. Henry grabbed a crayon.
“How do you spell ‘sister’?” he asked.
Mommy spelled the word out loud. Henry carefully wrote the letters down. She helped him spell sunshine and brothers and Daddy and snow and Primary and hermit crabs and other words. It took a long time to write them all. By the time Henry finished, his fingers were tired!
But Henry still had one more thing to write. He wrote Mommy on a slip of paper without any help at all. Then he showed Mommy what he had written.
“Look, Mommy!” Henry said. “I’m thankful for you!”
Mommy gave him a big hug. “I’m thankful for you too.”
Henry smiled. He was happy he had so many things to be thankful for.
See Come, Follow Me for Ether 6–11.

Liza Lou and the Yeller Belly Swamp Liza Lou outwits the marvelous swamp monsters in this typical example of the American folktale.Mercer Mayer7–10 years

Just last month our youngest son, Chad, went to the temple with a beautiful, worthy young woman to be married for time and all eternity. As he took her hand and knelt at the altar, I looked into the mirrors on either side, and again I wanted to whisper, “Do you understand why it is so important to be clean and pure?” But this time I didn’t have to remind him, because the Spirit did the whispering.

Beyond the quiet mists
of morning
I found Him—
majesty more than tall,
a light for all to see.
His presence whispered
beginnings again,
and his grasp
held love’s power—
His lightest touch
encompassed me.
And now,
with words in hand and firey heart, I search
the dawning’s mist and will not cease
until to seeking souls
I can be
His hands, His gentle strength,
and bring to them
His peace.

Amid all that seemed different to us in Bahrain—the veiled women, open-air markets, and richness and luxury contrasting with the ancient life-style of the desert—we found the warm familiarity of fellow Latter-day Saints. With three other western families, we were part of a group of eight adults and eight children who held Church weekly meetings. Services are held on Friday in Muslim countries because that day is their Sabbath; Sunday is simply the second day of a six-day work week.
The group in Bahrain was organized into a branch in 1978, with Brother Sidney MaGill, a native of New Mexico, as the first branch president. With the arrival of other Latter-day Saints, it has since grown to thirty-five members.

A woman I know was married about 50 years ago in the temple. After she and her husband had had several children, his turbulent life led to their divorce and to his excommunication from the Church. Then she gave up her own Church membership and chose some thorny paths. Later her former husband passed away. I met her when her daughter brought her to my office to explore whether the mother could ever return to the temple.

After a peaceful conversation about how we can learn from experience without being condemned by it, we discussed the processes of repentance, rebaptism, and the restoration of temple blessings. Then I told her that the restoration ordinance would also restore her temple sealing. Was she ready for that?

The daughter spoke first. “I have bipolar disorder,” she said. “My son is bipolar. We know far more about that disorder than we used to, and we take medications that help. Looking back, I believe my father was bipolar, and that probably influenced many of the hard things in our family’s life. I don’t judge him now.”

The mother answered softly, “If I really can return to the temple someday, I will be ready for my sealing to be restored.”

As I watched them walk down the hall, I realized that the temple and Elijah’s sealing power are sources of reconciliation, turning not only the hearts of children and parents toward one another but also turning the hearts of wives and husbands toward one another. I later received a message that the mother was being rebaptized.

As we build our homes, we value spiritual growth more than material possessions. In the Hapi family in Nuhaka, New Zealand, the parents want to teach their five children to be thrifty, make their offerings to the Lord, and live within their means. When the children complain that their friends have more material things than they do, Sister Hapi reminds them, “We are preparing for an eternity, not today, and we cannot take those things with us to the hereafter.”

Several years ago I attended a stake conference in Tonga. Sunday morning the three front rows of the chapel were filled with men between 26 and 35 years of age. I assumed they were a men’s choir. But when the business of the conference was conducted, each of these men, 63 in total, stood up as their names were read and were sustained for ordination to the Melchizedek Priesthood. I was both pleased and stunned.
After the session I asked President Mateaki, the stake president, how this miracle had been accomplished. He told me that in a stake council meeting reactivation was being discussed. His stake Relief Society president, Sister Leinata Va’enuku, asked if it would be appropriate for her to say something. As she spoke, the Spirit confirmed to the president that what she was suggesting was true. She explained that there were large numbers of wonderful young men in their late 20s and 30s in their stake who had not served missions. She said many of them knew they had disappointed bishops and priesthood leaders who had strongly encouraged them to serve a mission, and they now felt like second-class members of the Church. She pointed out that these young men were beyond missionary age. She expressed her love and concern for them. She explained that all of the saving ordinances were still available to them and the focus should be on priesthood ordinations and the ordinances of the temple. She noted that while some of these young men were still single, the majority of them had married wonderful women—some active, some inactive, and some not members.
After thorough discussion in the stake council, it was decided that the men of the priesthood and the women of the Relief Society would reach out to rescue these men and their wives, while the bishops spent more of their time with the young men and young women in the wards. Those involved in the rescue focused primarily on preparing them for the priesthood, eternal marriage, and the saving ordinances of the temple. During the next two years, almost all of the 63 men who had been sustained to the Melchizedek Priesthood at the conference I attended were endowed in the temple and had their spouses sealed to them. This account is but one example of how critical our sisters are in the work of salvation in our wards and stakes and how they facilitate revelation, especially in family and Church councils.17

The contributions of everyday Latter-day Saints, like that of the widow who gave what she had to the temple treasury in Jesus’s day, continue to make temple building possible (see Mark 12:41–44). In many cases, Saints have also sacrificed to reach the temple. For example, after temple ceremonies were fully translated into Spanish in 1945, Saints from Mexico, the United States, and later Central America joined annual caravans to visit the Mesa Arizona Temple. Members along the route and in Mesa offered travelers meals, places to stay, and powerful shared experiences.

My heart raced with anticipation as the truck slowly wound its way up the twisting mountain road.
“How long is it now?” I asked my dad. My eyes strained to spy our destination.
“Soon, I think,” Dad said as he put his hand on my shoulder. “Just sit back and enjoy the scenery.”
This was my first fishing trip to a real lake. Turning eight was great! I was finally old enough to do exciting things. The Cub Scouts had been invited to go on a fishing trip with the Boy Scouts, as long as our fathers came too.
We had gathered all our fishing gear—rods, tackle boxes, bait, nets, towels, and hats—before we left home.
“We’re getting close now,” Dad said as he followed the road along a fast-moving stream down toward the lake. “We just need to find a place to park.”
We soon noticed some boys on the other side of the river climbing on the rocks.
“Dad, they’re jumping in the water! Can I go swimming too?”
“Sure,” Dad said. He parked the car under some big trees and started unloading our supplies.
I dashed toward the riverbank. When I got there I could see that the boys were jumping off a large boulder that hung out over the river. The flow carried them swiftly downstream. Each boy would ride the current for a while and then swim to the shore to do it again. It was like a natural waterslide. I had to try it! I jumped in.
The force of the water nearly took my breath away. It was fun to be swept along so fast. Suddenly, I felt the water pull me back toward the boulder. The whirlpool was so powerful that I was pulled under and pushed against the underside of the boulder. I struggled to find an air pocket above the water against the rock, but there wasn’t one. I was running out of breath.
Then I heard a quiet voice: “Turn upside down and push!”
That seemed wrong. Wasn’t air to be found above the water? But I was desperate. I immediately pulled my body into a tight ball, turned upside down, and pushed off the bottom of the rock with my legs.
The next thing I knew, I popped out of the water downstream. I was relieved, but everything looked so blurry. I had forgotten to take off my glasses, and now they were lost. I felt that I should run beside the river. Quickly, I swam to shore and ran downstream. I found a calm place to wade and saw my glasses floating toward me.
Turning eight really was great. Because I was baptized, I was able to receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. I knew as long as I was worthy, the Holy Ghost could help keep me safe.

I eventually realized that I could soften a negative discussion by piping up and saying, “Oh, I disagree. My dad is less active, and …” Almost immediately, people’s comments became kinder, and many even backtracked on their previous insensitive statements.

Recently I was on assignment in Mozambique. The citizens of this beautiful country are struggling with poverty, poor health, unemployment, storms, and political unrest. I had the honor of meeting with the country’s president, Filipe Nyusi. At his request, I prayed for him and his nation; I told him we were building a temple of Jesus Christ in his country. At the end of our visit, I presented to him a copy of the Book of Mormon in Portuguese, his native language. As he gratefully accepted the book, I testified of the hope and promise for his people, found in the Lord’s words on its pages.

The story “My Brother Believes in Me” (Mar. 2010), about a girl dealing with stage fright, really helped me. I’m just like the girl in the story; it’s hard for me to stand in front of a crowd of people and talk. I liked the scripture in the story, 2 Timothy 1:7: “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear.” When I first read the story, I felt peace and that everything will be all right. I still feel scared of standing in front of people, but I know that by trusting in the Savior, I can overcome this fear. If I rely on and trust in Him, I can get through anything.
Lati V., Utah, USA

Sometimes the subject of the speculation is hurt. I know of at least one case where people not only openly speculated that a man would be called as bishop, but they let him know that he was their “candidate.” He did not feel that he would be called, and all of the talk made him quite uncomfortable, as did the questions and expressions of “consolation” after the new bishop was sustained.

Still, he found time for his sons. One of several notable activities which he enjoyed with them was their Scout troop’s journey down a fast-flowing Oregon river in homemade kayaks. President Hunter was paired with his youngest son on the river. Like most of the other kayaks, theirs did not survive the trip. Richard still laughs about going over a waterfall backwards with his father.

Knots on a Counting Rope He was named Boy-Strength-of-Blue-Horses by his grandfather. Born blind, how could he understand blue? “Blue is the morning … the sunrise … the sky … the song of the birds. … Blue is happiness, Grandfather! I feel it … in my heart!”Bill Martin, Jr., and John Archambault8–11 years

It took me seven years to join the Church. I first met up with the Mormons in Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada. I went to the Dunn Street chapel with Bonnie Spragg, Kathy Harding, and Kathy Turnbull. (I was Linda Tett back then.) Those two years in Canada were the two happiest years of my teens. I still have one of my New Eras from that time.
Linda GrayFawley, Southampton, England

Lyle goes on, “In my high school, there is no science fair. So I found a teacher to sign the papers. There is no mentor. But there are books. You are never stuck. There’s always something you can try as long as you’re willing to work hard.”