Gospel Story Finder

In my grade, there are many pranks and mean things that people do to other students. I always get kind of mad when these things happened to my friends or me. Then I found out that some of these people who were doing the mean things have lost loved ones or their parents are divorced. Thank you for putting the story “Prayer for a Thief” (April 2002) in the New Era. That story helped me realize some things about others. I think it’s great you put in articles and stories that help people.
Emily JacksonAddis Ababa, Ethiopia

One of President David O. McKay’s annual family traditions was to take the grandchildren riding on a bobsleigh pulled by a fine team of horses, “bells a-jingle.” The ride was one of their favorite traditions. President McKay continued it into his 80s. To stay warm, President McKay wore his long, thick raccoon coat and big gloves. The smaller grandchildren rode in the sleigh, but the older ones “whizzed along behind on their own sleds” tied to the back of the bobsleigh. These long-to-be-remembered Christmas celebrations sometimes ended with carols around the piano and singing “Love at Home.”7

“When Dad suggested that everyone in the family take a turn at giving the family night lesson, I thought that it would be funny to say, ‘Yeah, let John give the lesson next week.’ John is three years old. So Dad assigned John the lesson, and with Mom’s help, John gave one of the best family night lessons that we have ever had, and the joy on that little guy’s face was worth more than we will ever be able to give him in return.”

You may be able to recall something of what I say by remembering a daughter’s statement to her mother: “I cannot marry John because he does not believe in the devil,” and mother’s response: “Go ahead and marry him. You and I will change his mind on that question.”

We’ll be there, Linus. We’ll share your lonely vigil in that ever-so-sincere pumpkin patch. We’ll wait with you and hope with you and almost believe with you. But the Great Pumpkin won’t appear. He can’t. He always spends Halloween with the Hales family in Vestal, New York.
He doesn’t rise from among the vines though. He hides slyly in the mounds of orange-yellow globes at one of the several nearby pumpkin farms, and the Haleses have to come search for him.
Today they’re at Jackson’s Pumpkin Farm in Campville. The open-air pumpkin market is decorated with pumpkin animals, pumpkin people, pumpkin houses. Pumpkins lie all about in great glowing heaps.
Holly, age 14, rolls out a huge, round, golden pumpkin and looks at it critically. It’s beautiful, but it’s not the one. Stephen, age 11-going-on-deacon, studies an elongated pretender with a touch of green in its yellow skin. It would make a fine jack-o’-lantern, but it’s not the Hales family pumpkin.
Dad and Mom rummage about in the towering stacks of autumn gold. Lots of wonderful pumpkins here, but not the one-and-only-authentic-no-doubt-about-it-can’t-miss-right pumpkin.
They take their time. It’s not something they want to be wrong about. It is Kristin who finally finds it—Kristin Lehtinen and her brother Duane, ages 14 and 11. It’s hiding under an obese, presumptuous fruit that’s trying to pass itself off as the perfect pumpkin.
The judges gather around and confer. They examine the candidate from all angles. Yes, this is it! If it’s not the Great Pumpkin, it’s certainly a great pumpkin.
Kristin and Duane are the heroes of the day. They’ve saved the family from the unthinkable disaster of taking home the wrong official Halloween pumpkin.
If you’re wondering why the heroes are not Haleses, it’s because the Haleses and the Lehtinens are good friends who often do things together. Today, October 12, the Lehtinens have joined the Haleses for a Columbus Day family home evening activity. And thank heavens they have!
And that brings us back to the family home afternoon in October. After buying their pumpkins, the Haleses and the Lehtinens moved on to their favorite cider mill for a jug of fresh-pressed cider and a bag of crisp, juicy apples. The local apples are justly renowned, and cider squeezed from them is the sweetest, tangiest nectar this side of heaven. A frothy cider toast is one family tradition the Haleses will drink to at the drop of a cup.
Trailing the deep fragrance of apples, they next drove to the farm of Brother and Sister Hogan to get some cornstalks. Then they went home to make great jack-o’-lanterns out of their great pumpkins.
They decorated their front door and porch with pumpkins, gourds, and cornstalks. Up and down the streets around them, people were doing the same. It’s a tradition the whole town shares. Ghosts appeared in neighborhood windows, and monsters emerged from the shrubs.
It was starting to look like another traditional Hales Halloween, and that suited everyone just fine. Because in the Hales home, family traditions are a family tradition.

Some years ago, I was traveling in the Democratic Republic of the Congo with other Church leaders. We had been driving in complete wilderness when we suddenly hit a big bump in the road. Our driver struggled to steady the truck, but it landed on its side.
After we pulled ourselves from the wrecked truck, we said a prayer of gratefulness that no one was seriously injured. Then we set out on foot to find help. We came to a small village and explained our predicament. The villagers told us that sometimes it was possible to make a call on a cell phone by climbing one of the tall anthills nearby.
We climbed one of the anthills, but there was no signal. We tried again with the same result. Finally, on the eighth or ninth anthill, we were able to detect a small signal by raising the cell phone high in the air. We were able to get help.

TERESA: I have a girl friend who was just baptized this January. It was really hard for her to wait, and her parents never supported her. Her mother is a member of the Church, but her father isn’t. He was really bitter. She waited and was faithful, and since her baptism, her brothers and sisters have joined the Church too.

That day finally came in November 1978 when two couples, Elder and Sister Rendell N. Mabey, and Elder and Sister Edwin Q. Cannon, Jr., were sent as special representatives of the International Mission to Nigeria and Ghana. Since then, more than 1,700 converts have been baptized.
In August 1978, Elder Cannon and Merrill Bateman of the Brigham Young University faculty were sent by the Church on a fact-finding tour of the groups in Nigeria and Ghana. They came back with recommendations that the Church move ahead. Within months Elder Cannon and his wife, Janath, were called with the Mabeys as special representatives to western Africa.

How long is it until my birthday?” Jonathan asked Mother one wet, rainy day when he couldn’t go outside to play.
“Four months,” Mother answered. “Why?”
“Oh, I just wondered. How long is it until Susan’s birthday?”
“Don’t you remember? Susan’s birthday was just last month,” Mother said. “It will be 11 months before she has another one.”
“Oh,” Jonathan said. “It’s not time for Christmas, either, is it?” He sighed as he walked down the hall. More than anything, he liked times like Christmas and birthdays.
“I like getting presents,” Jonathan told his dog, Wags, when he got to his room. “I like giving presents, too. I wish today was Christmas or a birthday so we could have presents.”
Suddenly Jonathan realized that he hadn’t asked Mother about her birthday or Dad’s. He ran back to the kitchen.
“No,” said Mother, looking up from the big pot of soup she was stirring. “Neither Dad nor I have one today. Why do you keep asking about birthdays?”
“Oh, I just like them.” Jonathan trudged back to his room. He opened the bottom drawer of his dresser, where he kept his special treasures. “If it was Mother’s birthday,” he told Wags, “I could make her a crayon print with these leaves I saved. Mother really liked the crayon print I made her at kindergarten. She liked it a lot.”
“If it was Dad’s birthday,” he told Wags, “I could give him this nice block of wood I found in the park last week. Dad’s always looking for wood that he can carve into animals.”
“If it was Susan’s birthday,” he told Wags, “I could give her five of my best marbles. They would look very pretty at the bottom of her fish tank.”
Jonathan gave a deep, big sigh. “Oh, Wags,” he said, “I do wish it was someone’s birthday, or Christmas, or any day at all when I could give a present!”
Then he smiled, “Maybe, just maybe, today is a day when I can give presents.” He grinned. “Yes, it is!” he told Wags. Then he went to work.
First, he put his pretty leaves under a sheet of paper. Carefully he rubbed across the paper with red and yellow and orange crayons.
Next, he took out the block of wood and wiped it with tissue paper so that it would be nice and clean for Dad to carve.
Finally, he counted out five of his prettiest marbles.
“It’s time for dinner,” Mother called.
Jonathan carried his presents to the dinner table and placed them beside the right bowls.
“Presents for everyone!” he exclaimed when Dad, Mother, and Susan sat down.
“But it isn’t our birthdays,” Mother reminded him.
“And it isn’t Christmas,” Susan and Dad said at the same time.
“No, it isn’t a birthday or Christmas,” Jonathan said. “It’s another special day I thought of—it’s today! And I decided that today was the best day for giving ‘just because I like you’ presents!”
“What a lovely idea,” Mother said. “As soon as we’ve eaten, I’ll hang up this picture where we can all enjoy it.”
Dad said, “This block of wood is just the kind I like for carving.”
“The marbles are really pretty,” Susan said. “Thank you, Jonathan.”
Jonathan was smiling from ear to ear. He had more treasures in his bottom drawer and lots of friends he could give presents to on another “just because I like you” day.

North Las Vegas Nevada Stake
The Primary children of the North Las Vegas Nevada Stake had a special picnic and learned about Primary children around the world.

In later years, after Mother had a stroke, Father faithfully cared for her every need. The last two years of her life required 24-hour care, he being called by Mother every few minutes, day or night. I shall never forget his example of loving care for his cherished companion. He told me it was small payment for over fifty years of my mother’s loving devotion to him.

When I hear someone say they can’t serve because they don’t feel well, I remember a stake I once visited in Mexico. The stake president spoke about a lesson he learned from his wife. He said that a week before the conference, he had scheduled some home teaching visits but came home from work and didn’t feel well. He told his wife that he guessed he wouldn’t go home teaching because he was sick. Her reply to him was, “Go sick!” And he went.

Lemon Bread
It was almost an hour’s drive through a maze of snow-feathered trees to get to the Cornings’ home. Sister Corning was my first baptism as a missionary. I taught my first discussion in that small, backwoods house near Rollingdam, New Brunswick, Canada. After a lesson Brother Corning would get his old out-of-tune guitar, and we would all sit around the oil-burning stove singing folk songs. The air would soon be filled with the tangy, sweet smell of lemon bread baking. Sister Corning taught my companion and me how to make that special treat.

Claudiana: Shortly after Gustavo and I got engaged, I became very sick. We visited doctor after doctor, but none of them knew what was wrong with me. Most foods upset my stomach, and I spent weeks at a time in the hospital throwing up and losing blood. My quality of life was quickly diminishing.
Weeks turned into months and months turned into years, and I still had no diagnosis. The medicine that I was given to treat my symptoms made me swollen and caused me to lose my hair. I was soon unrecognizable.
I felt like a deformed monster and told Gustavo that it was OK if he wanted to break up with me. I didn’t want to compromise his happiness. But his eyes still shone whenever he looked at me, and he refused to leave my side. That was when I knew I had found true love.
After four long years, I was finally diagnosed with an aggressive form of Crohn’s disease and began treatment with a high-tech medication. My hair grew back, and my swelling disappeared. Five and a half years after meeting, Gustavo and I were finally married in the temple.

Benjamin Ballam, who has spina bifida, is a special child of Michael and Laurie Ballam, of Logan, Utah. He has been a blessing to them and many others. Having had seventeen surgeries, Benjamin knows all about hospitals and doctors. Once, when an overwhelmed attendant became vocally upset—not at Benjamin, but over stressful circumstances—little three-year-old Benjamin was an example of the Lord’s commandment to be “full of love” (Mosiah 3:19). He reached out, tenderly patted the irritated attendant, and said, “I love you anyway.”

May 20. Billy asked me if I wanted to go with him on his paper route after school. The other guys wanted me to play ball. So did I, but something inside me said that going with Billy was more important.
We rode our bikes. I helped carry some of the papers in a sack. Afterward, Billy bought me a soda pop. Then we went across the street and lay on the grass in the park. After a while he asked me why I wanted to be his friend, why I liked to do stuff with him. I didn’t know what to say. Finally I told him, “I guess I just like you, that’s all.”
He looked sad. “Is it because you feel sorry for me because I’m … different? Some people make fun of me because I can’t do things like other people. And some are nice because they feel sorry for me.”
I told him that I get mad when other people treat him unkindly and that at first maybe that was why I wanted to be nice. “But after a while, I started liking you because you’re you,” I said. “I like how you sound when you laugh. It makes me feel happy inside. And I like how you treat other living things. Even little things. Like the pollywogs in the creek behind the school last week. You felt bad because the sun was drying up the little ponds of water, so you put the tadpoles in that applesauce jar and moved them farther up the creek where it was deeper. Most people aren’t that kind,” I told him. “You remind me of Jesus.” His eyes got full of tears, and he didn’t say anything. He just tapped me on the arm with his fist and kept looking the other way.

Mario Moro
Mario Moro could not understand why he was drawn to buy that unusual book in a bookstore in 1973. But it fascinated him. He carried it everywhere to read.
The two Latter-day Saint missionaries who came to his office one day nudged each other whey they saw the Book of Mormon on his desk. What they taught him about the book was not new; he had already read it through once and had started over. But even though he felt good about everything they taught him, he struggled for almost a month with their baptismal challenge.
Then one day he closed his office door and knelt in prayer to ask what to do. The answer was strong. He went immediately to the missionaries—he doesn’t remember being aware of anything around him until he arrived—and they baptized him in the font they had kept filled for days, awaiting his decision. As soon as he was dry, Brother Moro was off to do member-missionary work with the elders that afternoon.
He is now second counselor in the presidency of the Sardinia District, Italy Rome Mission, and mission leader in the Sassari Branch.

Most Creative Response
The most interesting reply to an invitation for a date that we’ve heard about came from Nikki Mather of Preston, Idaho. She responded to a dance invite from Wade Meek by delivering a jar full of Reese’s Pieces and M&Ms. She told him if there were more M&Ms than Reese’s Pieces, the answer was yes, and vice versa. It’s difficult, however, to tell one kind of candy from the other, so Wade had to have the whole family and half the neighborhood over to cut the candies in half, see if there was chocolate or peanut butter inside, and count them. When they were all tallied the answer was yes, of course.

In October 1879, a group of 237 Latter-day Saints from several small southwestern Utah settlements was called to blaze a new route and colonize what is today known as San Juan County in southeastern Utah. The journey was to have taken six weeks but instead took nearly six months. Their struggles and heroics are well documented, particularly their seemingly impossible task of crossing the Colorado River at a place called Hole-in-the-Rock. Those who have visited this place marvel that wagons and teams could have been lowered through this narrow crack in the red-rock canyon walls to reach the Colorado River far below. Once the Colorado was crossed, however, many other severe tests awaited them on the trail to San Juan County. Tired and worn out, early in April 1880 they faced their final obstacle, Comb Ridge. The Comb is a ridge of solid sandstone forming a steep wall nearly 1,000 feet high.
One hundred and twenty years later, our family climbed Comb Ridge on a bright spring day. The ridge is steep and treacherous. It was difficult to imagine that wagons, teams, men, women, and children could make such an ascent. But beneath our feet were the scars from the wagon wheels, left as evidence of their struggles so long ago. How did they feel after enduring so much? Were they bitter after the many months of toil and privation? Did they criticize their leaders for sending them on such an arduous journey, asking them to give up so much? Our questions were answered as we reached the top of Comb Ridge. There inscribed in the red sandstone so long ago were the words, “We thank Thee, O God.”

“I have lived in Nauvoo all my life. I remember as a little boy visiting the temple site and helping my dad plant the flowers and water them to make the grounds beautiful. We used to play on the slopes where the temple once stood. My dad would tell us how sacred the grounds were because of the sacrifices the Saints made for the temple to be built, and then they had to leave before they could fully use it for a long period. I am excited to see the temple here. I feel like the people who lived here with Joseph Smith are watching us and hoping we appreciate it and don’t take it for granted.”–Nathan Nelson, 17