Gospel Story Finder

Letters the New Era has received from readers echo President Hinckley’s statement. Fifteen-year-old Lindy* writes, “When the parents of the kids I was baby-sitting got home, I was going to ask the wife to take me home, but the husband insisted. I knew right then that I was in trouble. On the way home he tried to molest me. No matter what I did, he kept right on.”

When I was little, I lived in Zwickau, Germany. My grandmother had a friend with white, flowing hair. Her name was Sister Ewig, and she invited my grandmother to church. When our family went there, we saw many children. All of us were very impressed by the families, the children, and the music, especially the singing. I felt at home right away. My whole family—except me, because I was only six years old—were baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I was eight, I was baptized in a public swimming pool by my father.

I was born on a farm in Iowa, USA. When I was three, my parents traded some old windows and doors for two goats. The goats were so small. A woman brought them to my house in a dog crate. They were beautiful. I named the white, black, and red one Alice. My mom named the tan and black one Tawny.
Mom and Dad helped the woman load the doors and windows into her truck. She was going to turn them into artwork. I watched the goats nervously look around our yard. All of a sudden Alice took a running leap and jumped right over our pasture fence. Tawny looked from us to Alice and decided to leave too. She sprang over the fence like she could fly!
We tried to round them up by bribing them with sweet feed. But the two goats just trotted down the road. They disappeared into a cornfield. We were all scared that they wouldn’t be able to find their way back to their new home. I thought they would be lost in the hundreds of acres of corn that surrounded our house.
I told my mom that we should pray. We had read in the scriptures where Amulek said to “cry over the flocks of your fields” (Alma 34:25). I knew Heavenly Father was watching over our goats.
After I took a nap, I woke up and looked in our yard. Alice and Tawny were there. They had found their way back! I know Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers. Sometimes it’s even quickly and in the way we hope!

Every day last autumn when mail was delivered in Baytown, Texas, one six-year-old boy found a letter addressed just to him. “It would make me happy when I wasn’t feeling too happy,” says Lance Brunson, who was confined to his home with complications from a severe skin disease.
The letters were from an “older” friend, eleven-year-old Sarah Ferguson, affectionately called “Little Miss Sunshine” by Lance’s family. Sarah has been writing and sending letters to Lance since mid-October 1988. “She has really been a beacon of light for us,” says Joy Brunson, Lance’s mother.
Sarah first learned about Lance’s condition from her mother, Melanie Ferguson, who had taught Lance in Primary in Baytown Ward, Houston Texas East Stake. Sister Ferguson and Lance’s classmates put together a card to send to Lance after his illness forced him to stay at home. Sarah liked the idea and decided to send one too—and has kept sending them ever since.
“I try to give Lance something to do, something to make him happy,” Sarah says. She admits she finds some of her ideas in greeting cards, but her letters are original, with handmade cards, puzzles, quizzes, riddles, and art lessons.
The rare skin disease Lance has is caused by some of his internal organs—kidneys, pancreas, spleen—not functioning to capacity. It causes severe itching and burning and peeling skin. For a time, Lance couldn’t stand to wear any clothes and could only wrap up in a sheet or blanket.
His mother says, “For one period of six weeks, Lance couldn’t sleep for two or three days at a time. He would lie for days curled up in the fetal position. It was his worst time. And during this time, Sarah’s letters arrived daily. Sometimes Lance was too sick to look at them, but he would smile when we showed him the letter. And most often that was the only smile we saw from him all day.”
“If we didn’t get any other mail, we always got Sarah’s letter,” Lance says. “Even when she was sick!” he exclaims. “When she had a bad case of flu, she still wrote every day.”
Lance’s gratitude to Sarah is spoken with childlike simplicity, “Thank you for sending me all these letters. I love you.”
What does Sarah think about her acts of kindness? “It’s not that special, really,” she shyly comments. However, the community of Baytown feels Sarah’s heroic efforts are special. She was featured in a local newspaper story and honored by a civic service organization that awarded her a plaque now hanging in city hall.
Ask her why she kept sending letters daily for those first few months, and she answers, “Because Lance’s mother appreciated it so much and said it made Lance happy. Besides, I know how it feels to be sick and at home. My father has been sick ever since I can remember. I know how he feels. It gets boring, and you need something to keep you busy.” Sarah’s father, Ira, has been going through operations and skin grafts for the past nine years after suffering severe burns in an accident at his work.
Sister Brunson expresses her appreciation for what Sarah has been doing for Lance. “She is sacrificing her time, talent, and energy for my child,” she says. “The humble spirit of this incredible young lady has richly blessed my home and family.”
Lance is feeling better now. He attends school and church some of the time, and he was well enough to participate with Sarah and other ward members in a road show last spring. But his trials are not yet over. He has days when he is in great discomfort. And, although he sees Sarah more often now, he still gets a letter at least once a week from her.
Because of the six-year age difference, Sarah and Lance don’t have a lot to talk about with each other. But one night last spring after the road show practice, Sarah softly said, “Good-bye, Lance.” And Lance turned and smiled at her and simply said back, “Good-bye, Sarah.” Lance’s mother comments, “Although it was just a brief farewell, you could see this bond—a look in their eyes that they have shared something. A great deal of love passed between them.”

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
I’m tired of winter. Let’s go hunting for spring.
Let the search begin!
Look! A crocus!
A robin!
A green blade of grass!
Mrs. Finster planting her garden!
Let’s help her.
Welcome, spring!

As the stagecoach lumbered through the dark night, Mama mumbled fretfully in her sleep. Eleven-year-old Elsie was too worried to even doze. Nervously she tucked the quilts tighter around her mother. Here on the high plains of Utah Territory it was cold.
The stagecoach lurched through a large chuckhole, rousing Mama. She said clearly, “John, just put the water by the stove.”
Alarm surged through Elsie. John was Papa’s name, but he was thousands of miles away on a mission in London. Touching Mama’s forehead, Elsie found it burning with fever. There was no water, nothing to help her. How she wished she’d never listened to that doctor. He’d advised her to take Mama to St. George, where it was warmer in the winter. But traveling seemed to make Mama worse.
“I’m Sister Reed,” a kind-faced woman across from her said. “Your mother is very sick, isn’t she?”
Elsie nodded.
“She needs rest and a comfortable bed.”
Sister Reed was right, but where would they find that in this sagebrush desert? Elsie turned to the man next to her. “Sir, when will we reach the next town?”
“There’s no town between here and Fillmore. The next stop is Cove Fort.” He looked kindly at the sick woman. “The Hinckleys run the fort for the Church. They’re real good folks. You could let your mother rest there. They have good food and clean rooms and only charge twenty-five cents a night.”
Elsie’s heart sank. Where would she get twenty-five cents?
Sister Reed saw the look on her face. “I’ve heard of Ira Hinckley and his sweet wife. She’ll take one look at your mama and put her to bed—won’t charge you a penny for it, either.”
Elsie stared at the woman in disbelief. “You mean they’d help us, and they don’t even know us?”
The woman smiled tiredly. “They’ll help you and be happy to do it. I plan to stay there for a day or two myself. All this bouncing around is hard on old bones.”
Just then Mama moaned and sat up. “John, could you bring me that pail of water. I’m so thirsty!”
Gently pushing her back, Elsie replaced the covers. All through that long, bumpy night she watched over her mother and prayed that they would find help at Cove Fort.
When the sun peeked up over the foothills, the man nudged her. Pointing to a dark spot off through the sagebrush, he said, “See that? That’s Cove Fort. We’ll get there about breakfast time. So hang on, little lady. We’ll have your ma in good hands real soon.”
Her heart hammering, Elsie prayed that what they told her was true. She prayed that the Hinckleys would take them in. She prayed that her mother would soon have a place to rest and get well.
As the stagecoach pulled up in front of the fort, Elsie’s heart sank. Built of limestone blocks with thick wooden doors, it looked solid, but rough. How could a sick woman find comfort in there?
Brother Hinckley swung open the doors as the stagecoach bumped to a stop. He greeted the driver as several young men hurried out of a bunkhouse next door and helped hitch fresh horses to the coach.
Sister Reed stepped out of the coach and spoke softly to Brother Hinckley. Soon Mama was carried from the coach through those heavy doors. Elsie followed close behind.
She saw that the fort was actually a big square. Though the outside of the fort was solid rock, inside, it was divided into rooms with doors and windows. Her mother was carried into one of the rooms and tucked into a soft straw bed on a rope mattress. Homemade quilts piled on the shivering woman comforted her.
Elsie heard Sister Reed whispering to Sister Hinckley. She caught the words “… husband just left … mission … baby.” Elsie listened fearfully. Was her mother going to have a baby? Was that why she was so sick?
Elsie thought of the two baby brothers who hadn’t lived more than a few days. Would that happen again?
While she was worrying, she noticed several young girls bustling around the fort. She counted seven Hinckley girls in all. One of them came and showed her into the dining room. There they served her fresh milk and warm bread, but the food stuck in her throat.
Sister Reed came and sat beside her. “Sister Hinckley’s taking care of your mama now. She thinks a good long rest will help her get well. You’re to stay here until your ma can travel again.”
“But I don’t have any money,” Elsie moaned. “What will I do?”
Sister Reed put her arm around Elsie. “Now don’t you worry about that. Just eat your meal.” She thanked the young woman who set a plate of food before her. “That gives me an idea,” she said, looking at the girl bustling around. “You could help the Hinckleys for your room and board.”
Elsie’s heart began to lighten. Could she really do that? “What could I do?”
Pointing to a girl about thirteen years old, Sister Reed said, “That young lady takes care of the milk from thirty cows. That’s a lot of work for one person.”
“I’d love to help! Before Papa left, we had lots of cows. Mama says that I make better cheese than most grown women.”
Sister Reed smiled at her. “Then offer your help. There’s much to be done in this world. If able, no one has the right to just sit around and let others do for them.”
Gladly Elsie helped wash the dishes. Then she asked where the milk was cared for and offered her help. Soon she and the young girl were chatting happily. With such cheerful company, it seemed to take just minutes to care for the milk.
Then Elsie crossed over to her mother’s room. Mama was sleeping quietly. Gently touching her forehead, Elsie found it cool. Laying her head down beside Mama, she gave thanks.
How tired she was, but how grateful! She knew that her prayers were being answered by good people willing to help a couple of strangers. How thankful she was to Heavenly Father for these good people.

I grew up with the same friends for the first 12 years of my life. We were neighbors. We went to the same schools and attended each other’s birthday parties. I sometimes ate at their homes, they came to mine, and we had fun together. But when we became teenagers, things began to change. They were not members of the Church, and they swore, they smoked, and they drank alcohol. They had a completely different view of the law of chastity than I did.
I thought about the problem carefully, and then I talked to my father about what to do. He said, “You have to decide. These good friends are different from you. Before you couldn’t tell, but now there’s a very big difference.”
I trusted my father’s counsel. My friends knew I was a member of the Church, so when I decided not to always go everywhere they went, they understood. Eventually, we spent less and less time together even though we were still friendly.
It was a trial for me to leave my friends, but I knew that it was important to maintain the principles of the gospel in my life. I thought about Alma’s counsel to his sons when he taught them to have faith in God. He said, “Whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials” (Alma 36:3).
One of the things that helped me get through this hard time was going every week to Church activities, including Mutual. I also kept myself busy with dancing, sports, and youth conferences.

My mom, dad, and I gave blankets to a children’s hospital. The hospital workers said the blankets would help the kids not feel afraid anymore. I am glad that our blankets will help cheer the kids up and make them happy. It made me feel happy too.
Brooklyn D., age 9, Texas, USA

I continued: “Heaven was in my own home, too, Dr. Richards, when home evening was held. Through the years the room was filled with our children, when each, eager for a turn, sang a song, led a game, recited an Article of Faith, told a story, and listened to faith-promoting incidents and gospel teaching from parents who loved them.”

After reading the Book of Mormon cover to cover twice, Elder David Walker, a missionary in Barcelona, Spain, found the renewed testimony of the book he had been searching for. “Now when I give my testimony, even on the street, I can feel something inside reaffirming the things I’m saying,” Elder Walker said.

This story happened in Chile.
Thanks for the ice cream!
Thanks for shopping with me.
I’m trying to be like Jesus . . .
What are you humming?
A song we learned in Primary. It’s about helping people, like Jesus did.
Mamá, it looks like those ladies need help.
Hi, ma’am. Can we help you?
Oh, thank you. That would be wonderful.
Max: It feels good to help like Jesus did!

From this point forward, I began to experience mixed emotions about becoming a member of the Church. I was concerned about my father’s opinion and his reaction to my decision. The night of the sixth discussion was a very eventful night.
During the sixth discussion, I received the message that I had an incoming call from my father. The phone rang. I picked it up, and it was indeed my dad.
He said, “Your mother informed me that you’ve made a decision to join the Latter-day Saints.”
I said yes.
He said, “I’m here to prevent that from happening.”
And I said, “You know what, Dad? I love you, and you’ll always be my dad. You’ve done a great job with me. But I’m 22. I’m a man now, and these decisions are for my family and my future. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and that you will continue to do for me, but this is my decision. I’m going to do it, and I know that the Lord wants me to do this.”
My dad wasn’t too happy when he hung up the phone. Immediately I got on my knees in the kitchen and asked the Lord to help me see and understand that what I was going to do was correct. I was thousands of miles away from home. I was all alone, and nothing was going right. Only when I was with the missionaries did I feel good. At that moment the Spirit testified to me that it was the Lord’s will and that the Lord wanted me to be baptized. It was a very clear voice that just said, “You’re to do the Lord’s will. You are to follow His example.” Then I knew. I never looked back after that. I was baptized on October 12, 1995.

January 18, 1827 Joseph Smith and Emma Hale were married. They met while Joseph was working and boarding in the township of Harmony, Pennsylvania. The couple moved in with Joseph’s parents in New York. Seeking a safer place to translate the Book of Mormon, they moved to Harmony (now Oakland), Pennsylvania, in December. They transported the sacred records there in a barrel of beans.

As Elder Moyle noted, a boy’s standards determine those with whom he associates. Once a boy is involved in a deacons quorum, his fellow quorum members often become his best friends. They then mutually influence each other for good, as illustrated by this story:
William Smart as a youth joined his playmates in regularly upsetting a crotchety widow in their neighborhood. Then one day the boys were ordained as deacons.
“The spirit of the Deacon coming over me to some extent,” said Brother Smart, “I found myself willing, and even pleased to unite with my young brother deacons in chopping wood for the poor and for the meeting house.”
One day, seeking some fun, the deacons paused before the widow’s property and discussed ways in which they might best torment the old lady. But this time the result was different.
“Since they last met here,” Brother Smart recalled, “a change had crept almost imperceptibly into the lives of some of these boys. They were now Deacons in the Holy Priesthood.”
Instead of pranks, one boy suggested they take the woman’s wagon, pull it down the hill, load it up with dry willows, and then take the load back and chop the willows up for her woodpile. The other boys, once they realized their friend was not joking, heartily agreed.
The widow spotted the boys taking her wagon down the hill and hurled verbal arrows at them. Then she stormed to a neighbor’s and vented her anger. But was she ever surprised when the old wagon was returned to her loaded with dry willows and the crew of grimy, perspiring boys—whom she recognized as her old tormentors—energetically began chopping kindling for her! She scolded, laughed, and cried alternately, then exclaimed: “Boys, God bless you! I forgive you for all your past mischief to me!” She and the boys then knew that “some silent force had wrought a change,” and that invisible force was the new power and spirit they had received with their ordination.

For many years I have been haunted by an experience that occurred in my own life. I was working in a community where a full-time seminary was operated adjacent to the local high school. Part way through one school year, a teaching vacancy occurred at the seminary because of a health problem experienced by one of the teachers. I was invited to assume several of his classes each day over a period of time until a replacement could be found. In most respects it was a delightful experience and one that carries fond recollections for me. In one of the classes, however, there was a young man who proved to be a real challenge. He was in his final year of high school. He was bright and talented. It was obvious that he was popular with the other students and had a considerable influence with them. However, his conduct in the seminary class was generally disruptive. He sought for attention and usually got it as a result of his misbehavior in class.
In my desire to establish an atmosphere in the class where we could discuss and learn about things of a spiritual nature, I was repeatedly frustrated by the antics of this young man. He craved the attention of the other students. Several private consultations with him brought no improvements. In our interviews he was amiable enough, but he reverted to his disruptive behavior as soon as the next class convened.
I spoke with the counseling staff at the high school across the street from the seminary and learned from them that the young man came from a single parent home and that he was a constant problem in his classes at the high school, even though his aptitude test scores showed above average ability and talent.
There finally came a day when I knew I must do something decisive if I were to maintain some sense of order and direction in the class. After a typical outburst I invited the young man to step outside the classroom with me. There I told him that I could no longer sacrifice the opportunities of the other students in order to accommodate his whimsical behavior. I told him that he was no longer welcome in the class until he could control his conduct and contribute to the spiritual atmosphere necessary in a seminary classroom. He spun on his heel without comment and left the building. I never saw him again.
His mother called me that afternoon and expressed her displeasure and distress over what I had done. She warned me that the expulsion of her son from the seminary class would come back to haunt me.
The mother’s prediction has been correct. I have never been able to completely free my mind of that experience. Within a week or two of these events, my work was changed, and I was moved to another part of the country. I have no idea whether the young man ever returned to seminary. I don’t even remember his name now because it has been more than 20 years. I have sometimes wondered if there is a father of a large family out there somewhere who blames his estrangement from the Church on the action of an unsympathetic seminary teacher many years ago.
I am sure I have learned some things in the intervening years that would have helped me handle the situation more competently. Perhaps there are some things I could have done that I did not do to help the young man change his attitude and conduct. I am sure there were. However, as I look back upon those experiences, I recall vividly the concern I felt for the other students in the class and the intense desire I felt to somehow bless their lives. As my mind runs back over that episode, I inevitably come to the same dilemma I faced the day when I invited the young man to leave the seminary class. In addition to my responsibility for his spiritual opportunities, what was my responsibility to the other class members whose opportunities were being jeopardized by the conduct of the young man? What were his responsibilities?

There was one group of friends, however, that kept him going more than any other during and after the move: his family.
Ark loves spending time with his family, especially when they play card games. The game Uno is his particular favorite. The reason? “I always win,” he says with a laugh.
He also loves playing Monopoly with his parents and his younger brother, Leif. (His younger sister isn’t quite old enough to join yet.) There’s more going on in the games, however, than chucking dice and spending pretend money. “My parents teach me business strategies and money principles in the games. It’s really helpful advice for the future.”
His dad is a software developer, and his mom used to run her own business in the Philippines. They have a lot of skills to pass down. For his part, Ark is eager to learn everything he can from them. He’s got big plans for his career.
His favorite school subjects are biotech and engineering. Ark wants to become a biotechnician. With his sights set high, he takes every chance he can to learn something new.

Wilford Woodruff set a standard of excellence in missionary work in England. Today, youth like Mark Pope, a 16-year-old from Haarlow, Essex, are doing their part to keep the missionary spirit alive.

Mark has always been what you might call a self-starter. He taught himself to play the piano, guitar, oboe, and flute. He taught himself Ninjutsu (a martial art) by reading about it in books. This kind of self-discipline comes in handy for all kinds of things, but especially when it comes to sharing the gospel.

“There was only me in the Young Men program for a long time,” Mark says, “so it seemed a good idea to bring in my school friends.” Mark works with the local missionaries during school holidays and after school. He also gives out copies of the Book of Mormon to teachers and has brought two friends into the Church.

Mark says his love of the gospel and his desire to share it with others comes from many places, including seminary.

“It’s a warm feeling being there with your friends, knowing they believe the same things as you,” Mark says. “Before I started seminary I was a bit nervous when talking to people about the Church because everyone has such different ideas. Now when they ask me questions it flows out. It’s really good.”

The Latter-day Saint youth of New Mexico know how difficult it is to detach themselves from a prickly cactus. They got some extra practice, though, as they cleaned the site where the Albuquerque New Mexico Temple will be built. Armed with shovels, rakes, and gloves, youth from four stakes assembled on a hot Saturday morning to rid the property of sagebrush, garbage, and cholla, so the weeds could be mowed and the ground made safe to walk on for those attending the temple’s groundbreaking ceremony.
“It was hard work, but it will be totally worth it for the temple to come,” says Robyn Sampson, age 15.
Despite the burrs on their socks and an occasional scare from a snake or lizard, the Albuquerque youth succeeded in clearing the future temple site of every spiny cactus and broken bottle they could find. It might seem strange, but the youth actually enjoyed pulling cactuses and loading trucks with sagebrush.

Afterwards, young adults in Madagascar shared what they had learned from the experience.
Ramasiantsimba Harinirina Faniry Andriamanama, from Ivandry in Antananarivo, said that during the event she felt deep within her that her Heavenly Father loves us greatly and that He only wants what is good for us.
“Jesus told us to take courage,” she said. “He said, ‘Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid . . .
“‘Ye believe in God, believe also in me’1.”
“The Spirit prompts us to believe in God and to have faith in Jesus Christ. But sadly, we as the youth tend to neglect it,” she said. For this reason, Ramasiantsimba invites all of her fellow young adults to strengthen their faith.
“I would like to invite each of us to always strengthen that which we believe. Let’s encourage each other to believe in those things that are not seen but are true2,” she said.
Along with that, she said, “let’s follow God’s commandments, pray regularly—be it with our family or individually—and mostly, let’s seek the desire to follow Jesus Christ.
“Let us lean unto God and trust him,” she concluded. “For we have to remember that the youth of today will be the future of the Church.”

“Economically, our family had its ups and downs. Like many Americans, we did well during the 1920s. My father started making lots of money in real estate, in addition to his other businesses. For a few years we were actually wealthy. But then came the Depression.
“No one who’s lived through it can ever forget. My father lost all his money, and we almost lost our house. I remember asking my sister, who was a couple of years older, whether we’d have to move out and how we’d find somewhere else to live. I was only six or seven at the time, but the anxiety I felt about the future is still vivid in my mind. Bad times are indelible—they stay with you forever.” (Lee Iacocca and William Novak, Iacocca: An Autobiography, New York: Bantam Books, 1984, p. 7.)