Gospel Story Finder

Mary said, “There are so many things to do and see. But there are challenges too. Most of us are converts. Sometimes we’re the only members in our families. So we rely on other Church members to talk to when we need someone who understands about the gospel.”
Mary, 18, and her sister Eileen, 12, joined the Church ten months ago. They were first interested by a friend who was a member and eventually came to meetings with her. “All I had heard about Mormons was awful,” Mary said. “But as I started going to Church, I had this wonderful feeling. I couldn’t even recognize myself. This was a new Mary. I’ve been a member for less than a year, but for me it seems like a lifetime,” she said.

“I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”*
Thank you, David. That promise isn’t just for prophets with dramatic, dangerous missions. It’s for every one of us and for every single commandment.
Later that week at school …
Dave, you lucky dog—you get to write my history report for me. Have it ready Friday morning.
I won’t do it, Spike.
Here are five good reasons why you will!
Spike, some people think you’re stupid just because you’re big. Maybe you’ve even started believing it yourself. But I know better.
You do?
I know that you can do the report yourself and do it well. But if you could use some help, I’m your man. My place at six?
OK, but this had better work.
Wow, talk about dramatic and dangerous! But you went and did, just like Nephi!
Not unless Nephi was so scared that he swallowed his jawbreaker!

His finest moment on the court came in Laramie, Wyoming. The Cougars had just won their second WAC (Western Athletic Conference) crown, and he had been a starter in every game for those two glorious years. As the players were interviewed on regional television, Devin had a chance to respond to questions about his future. I don’t recall his exact words, but I’ll never forget his fervor as he explained, “Next week I’ll send my application in to serve a two-year mission for the Mormon church. I’m going to be a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
When asked why he would leave his most promising career, he replied, “God has given me so much. I just want to go out and do something for him.”
At that moment I remembered the words he had said to me as a little boy at the football game: “Dad, you do so much for me. Isn’t there something that I can do for you?”
And my reply: “Just be my son.”
As he stood on the basketball court in Laramie, I felt I almost heard the Lord say, “Devin, just be my son. Just be my son.”

When I was a boy, my father (Gordon B. Hinckley) often would use an interesting phrase when he was offering the family prayer. He would say, “Heavenly Father, please bless us that we may live without regret.” I did not understand what that phrase meant for many years. Then, when I was about ten, I had an experience that helped me understand it better.
On warm summer nights, my friends and I enjoyed sleeping out under the stars. Our favorite camping spot was “the hollow,” a steep, wooded gully near our homes. There were no houses or businesses in the hollow, so we boys felt like real adventurers. Over the years we constructed several huts there—tree forts and ground forts—from scrap wood we collected.
One night after dark, one of my friends suggested we explore the new homes under construction on the other side of the hollow. We scrambled up the bank, raced across an alfalfa field, and began tiptoeing through skeletons of just-framed houses. It was exciting to wander through other people’s homes, imagining the families who would soon move in. We were about to learn an important lesson, a lesson that, in part at least, would teach me about regret.
In the corner of one house we found a pile of wood—perfect for building our huts. The wood had been used in pouring cement for the home’s foundation. We convinced ourselves the workers would throw it away. My friends and I grabbed the wood and dragged it to the hollow, talking all the way about what sort of hut we would build with it. We hid the wood among some trees and soon fell asleep.
The next morning we heard a loud groan. One of my friends was standing at the top of the hollow looking over the alfalfa field.
“We’ve left a trail!” he shouted. “We’re going to get caught!”
Hurrying to his side, I saw a wide path of trampled alfalfa, leading to the edge of the hollow above our hideout. If the builders wanted to know who had taken their wood, they need only follow our tracks.
My friends and I decided to go straight home and not return to the hollow for several days. For hours I hid in my parents’ closet. Every police siren in the distance was surely coming for me!
“Why are you staying in here?” my mother asked.
“Oh, I’m just a bit tired,” I fibbed. “It’s quieter in the closet.”
By the end of the week we figured no one had discovered that the scrap lumber was missing. We met at the hollow and went to work on our new hut. But I think we all felt embarrassed about what we had done.
That Saturday my father went to his office to catch up on some work. As he often did on a Saturday, he invited me to come along. He was then an employee of the Church and worked in the Church Administration Building. The office of President David O. McKay was down the hall. I had been introduced to President McKay and had spoken with him on several occasions. A tall man with wavy, white hair, he looked just like I imagined a prophet should. He spoke kindly, and I always hoped to see him when I visited Dad’s office.
But that Saturday was different. We were leaving the building when President McKay stopped us in the hallway. I couldn’t look at him. As I reached up to shake his hand, I felt as if his eyes were reading the words “wood thief” on the top of my head. How I regretted taking that wood! Even though we knew that wood was going to be scrapped, we also knew we should have asked before taking it.
My father’s prayers finally made sense! I knew that when my time came to stand before the Lord, I wanted to feel worthy.

I used to feel the same way towards a person who had hurt me. I carried a grudge for years. In fact, I had no desire to forgive, except I hated the awful way I felt. Then I remembered that the Church teaches us to pray for those who hurt us. For lack of another solution I decided to give ita try. At firsts felt totally foolish praying for this person to be happy or do well in school, but when I was finished I could feel the grudge I’d held for so long melt away and become replaced with love for that person.
Ana Nielsen, 16King City, California

My name is Magnolia. I go to a ward where we speak Spanish. One day Mia came to my Primary class. She speaks only English. I wanted to help Mia feel welcome, so I decided to help her. I would be her interpreter!
An interpreter translates words that someone is speaking into a different language.
Keeping Up
At first it was hard to keep up when I was interpreting for Mia. Then the teachers slowed down to give me time. We all felt good that we could help Mia.
Lots in Common
We both just got baptized and confirmed. We both like music, especially hymns and Primary songs. We both like family home evening. And both of us like to read stories in the Liahona.
Whispered Help
My name is Mia. My parents speak Spanish, so we went to the Spanish-speaking ward. I couldn’t understand what people were saying. Magnolia saw that I was frustrated. She moved over next to me and whispered English in my ear.
Good Friends
After Primary, I asked Magnolia if she would be my friend. She said yes. From then on, Magnolia was my friend and my interpreter. She helped me make other friends too.

One of my favorite hobbies is Irish dance. I try hard to practice my choreography at home so I am ready to perform. I practice very thoroughly, but when I am backstage about to perform, I commonly get the backstage jitters. At every competition, my mom and I find a quiet place to say a prayer. Sometimes it’s behind a curtain or in a room off to the side. I know that it doesn’t matter to Heavenly Father where we are, just that we have faith in Him.
At my last performance, my mom wasn’t with me to say a prayer. She was waiting in the audience. I got really nervous but decided that it didn’t matter if she was with me or not. I stepped away from my friends and said a prayer. I asked for safety as I danced and that I could do my best. I did very well that day, and I remember the feeling of peace that I felt as I walked on stage.

One Sunday evening the family’s home teachers visited. The family was struggling through unemployment at the time, and that night she had only a half cup of rice, a little bit of oil to cook it in, and two small tomatoes. But appreciative of these faithful home teachers, she asked them if they would like to stay for dinner.
“My daughter asked how I could do that,” Sister Daggi recalls. She told her daughter to set the table. Then she went into the kitchen and prayed, “Lord, Thou fed 5,000. I’m asking only for seven.”
“That rice fed seven people,” she testifies.

Before joining the Church, Elder Helio da Rocha Camargo from Brazil was a minister in another religion. He was seriously investigating the Church when he visited a youth meeting one Saturday morning. He was interested in what the young people of our Church had to say. One young lady bore her testimony about being morally clean and the strength she had received from living the law of chastity. Her testimony and the testimony of others greatly impressed Helio Camargo. He and his wife joined the Church. Brother Camargo’s testimony and commitment were great. The Lord called him to be a bishop, a stake president, a mission president, a regional representative, a member of the Seventy, and a temple president.

After eight months I received the Melchizedek Priesthood. My son, Anderson, who was not a member of the Church, had a skin problem on his neck and had already been examined by three doctors. But even after taking antibiotics he saw no improvement.
I believed the priesthood could help him, and I explained priesthood blessings to him, but he did not accept my offer of one. He thought the medications would soon heal the infection. Finally, after several months he asked me for a blessing.
This was the first time I had exercised my priesthood in this way. Five days later Anderson entered my room very happy. His neck was completely healed.

Traffic in Santo Domingo is congested and noisy. Motorcycles, cars, and trucks make frequent use of their horns. At the start of our mission, our apartment was located at a busy intersection. During heavy commute times the traffic on this road is bumper-to-bumper. Motorcycles honk at every intersection. Cars honk the moment the signal turns green. Buses and semitrucks are especially loud and honk when they see the light change. The concrete apartment buildings here amplify the clamor. The traffic eases up at night, but some cars and motorcycles take advantage of the chance to gun their engines and race down the road.
Constant noise is hard for me. Early on, the only time I felt relief was at the temple or when working in the office. My brain felt the constant strain of trying to learn Spanish and trying to learn my mission responsibilities, and I desperately wanted a quiet refuge.
One opportunity that we have been given while in the Dominican Republic is to serve as temple workers in the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple. In the temple it’s blessedly quiet. One day, coming out of the temple, the blaring traffic hit me hard, and I felt so oppressed. I said to Heavenly Father. “Could you please just make the noise stop for a little while?” In my mind I was huddled in a ball with my hands over my ears, begging.
With this memory, I felt the Holy Ghost whisper, “How about asking for something I can say yes to?”
I stopped there on the sidewalk outside the temple, where horns honked, and engines revved. I knew Heavenly Father would not stop the traffic. Then I remembered the story of the people of Alma in Mosiah 24. Alma and his people were in bondage to Amulon and the Lamanites. They were mistreated and burdened with heavy workloads. Alma and his people poured out their hearts to the Lord in prayer, and He heard them. I’ll bet a lot of those prayers were asking the Lord to make the hard things stop.
“And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.
“And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions” (Mosiah 24:13–14).
As the Holy Ghost brought these verses to my memory, I knew what to pray for. “Heavenly Father, please strengthen my mind so I can bear the noise of the traffic here and not feel the mental stress that plagues me now. I know you can say yes to this, because you did something like it for the people of Alma.”
I felt a new lightness as I walked home, dodging cars while crossing the street to our apartment building. I knew Heavenly Father heard and would answer my prayer. I didn’t know how it would come about; I just knew that He heard me.
About a week later, I was doing some work in our apartment, and I suddenly realized that I wasn’t covering my ears and I wasn’t in pain from the loud traffic. It had stopped bothering me the way it had before. It felt less intrusive and weighed on me less.

“One of the first things my parents acquired for their home was a piano. Mother sent me for piano lessons. But at about age ten, I decided that I would rather work in my dad’s office than sit long hours practicing the piano. Much to Mother’s dismay, I terminated her plans for my musical career. Of course I have lived to regret that shortsighted action. I have since spent many hours trying to teach myself to play the piano and the organ. I believe my deceased mother would be happy knowing that I now play the organ at the regular meetings of the General Authorities in the temple.”

It’s the moment every high school athlete dreams of: cameras flashing, parents beaming, coaches applauding, a gold medal, laced with a ribbon, gently placed around your neck. But for Andrea Nelson, it just wasn’t right.
All runners had crossed the line for the girls’ 3,200-meter race at the Washington State High School Track and Field Championships. They had just caught their breath when the whispers started. Someone would be disqualified.
“Is it me?” each girl asked herself. They then waited in uncertainty for more than an hour.
At last, a judge ruled that the first-place runner, Nicole, would lose her place. She had supposedly stepped outside the lane for three consecutive steps. The other runners would move up, taking the stand one place higher than the order in which they crossed the finish line. Andrea had finished three seconds behind Nicole but would now be given first place.
At that moment two-time state cross country champion Andrea Nelson (17) of the Woodridge Ward, Spokane North Stake, made a decision that would catch the attention of out-of-state newspapers, land her on ESPN, and even cause her to be featured in Sports Illustrated magazine.
“My coach asked, ‘What are you going to do?’ I said, ‘Well, I’m going to give her the medal,’” Andrea remembers saying.
After being given the gold medal, she jumped without hesitation from the highest stand, ran over to Nicole and placed the medal around her neck, saying it belonged to her because she won the race.
The energy from Andrea’s simple gesture started a domino effect of selfless giving. Next, the second-place runner gave up her medal to Andrea, followed by third to second, and so on, until all eight girls gave up their medals. The eighth-place girl, who chose to forfeit her medal without a replacement in mind, later received a medal Nicole won in another race.
Andrea’s mother, Edie, says, “There is no way to describe how that felt and the way that people were responding. You just had to be there.” After the runners exchanged medals, Edie says, “A reporter ran past Brother Nelson with tears in his eyes saying he wished he could talk but was on deadline and, besides, he couldn’t get control of his emotions anyway.”
Ten days later, race officials reinstated Nicole as the winner after reviewing video of the race. But at the time Andrea made her decision, no one knew that would happen. The reinstated winner, Nicole, told Sports Illustrated, “It gave me chills. It was just an incredible, surprising thing for Andrea to do, because it wasn’t her fault. No one would have blamed her if she kept the medal.”
But Andrea knows how it feels to win a race. And that wasn’t what she felt that day. To her, violation or not, the other girl had earned a spot on the stand. “I’d rather win it the right way instead of having it given to me,” she says. She understands the Savior’s counsel: “Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (Matthew 7:12).
For a girl nearly through high school, Andrea has received a lot of attention. After the track meet and before the beginning of summer vacation, newspapers and sportswriters were calling her high school to get her out of class as many as three times in a day. “I wasn’t expecting this to be a big deal. I just thought it was the right thing to do.”
But being looked up to or talked about isn’t really what motivates Andrea. When people mention her giving up the medal, she doesn’t break stride: “I don’t want to be the center of attention.” That’s Andrea. Like the eight other runners who followed her example, she’s just glad she could do the right thing when the moment presented itself.

Several years ago I worked at an archaeological site called Aguateca, which is located in a beautiful and remote part of Guatemala accessible only by a long boat ride up the winding Petexbatún River.
One evening I was returning to Aguateca with several archaeologists after spending the day at a neighboring site. As we traveled by boat up the river, with only the quiet hum of the motor and the chirp of insects in the background, I reclined against the side of the boat, enjoying the peaceful ride and the moonless, unusually clear night. As the boat followed the serpentine twists of the river, I tried to maintain my sense of direction by tracking the North Star. Sometimes the North Star disappeared behind the dark silhouettes of the trees lining the riverbanks, but it always reappeared shortly.
At one bend in the river, I lost the North Star behind the treetops again. Once the boat turned southward, I quickly relocated it, feeling like an old-time mariner, proud of my ability to stay oriented. After a minute of watching it, however, I realized I was mistaken: I had not relocated the North Star or even a star at all. I was watching a firefly.
Only then did I become aware that many of the “stars” above me were actually fireflies hovering silently in the warm night air. Amazingly, the glow of the dozens of fireflies overhead was almost identical to the glow of the distant stars and galaxies, and the twists and turns of the boat on the river had made it easy to confuse the two.
“How could I mistake a miniscule firefly for a star of almost infinite brilliance?” I wondered. The answer was clear: it was just a matter of perspective. The relatively faint and fleeting light of the fireflies rivaled that of the stars only because the fireflies were just a few feet above me and the stars were so distant. From my perspective, the two appeared nearly identical.
It has been years since I took that boat ride on the river, but even today I pause when confronted with temptation and remind myself, “It’s just a firefly.”

“Time for family home evening!” Dad called.
Gunnar came running. He loved home evenings. Climbing up on the sofa, he snuggled between Ryan and Mom.
After the opening song and prayer, Dad stood up. “We’re going to have a special home evening,” he said. “Tonight we are going to have a testimony meeting.”
Testimony? Gunnar couldn’t remember his Primary teacher ever talking about a testimony in nursery. “What’s a testimony, Daddy?” he asked.
Dad smiled at Gunnar. “A testimony is what you believe about Heavenly Father and Jesus and the Church. It’s what you feel inside about them,” Dad said. “And you want to share your testimony because it means so much to you.”
“Oh.”
Then Dad said, “I have a testimony that Jesus Christ lives. And He loves each one of us.”
Emily was next. “I know that the Book of Mormon is true.”
“I’m glad that we have prophets,” said Ryan. “I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet.”
Mom said, “I’m grateful that your father and I were married in the temple, so we can be a family forever.” She reached into her pocket for a tissue to wipe her eyes.
Everyone in the family had shared a testimony except Gunnar.
A testimony is something I believe. Something I feel inside, Gunnar thought. Now he knew what he could say. He scooted off the sofa, stood straight and tall, and said, “I am a child of God.” Then he sat down. Mom gave him a little squeeze, and she had to get out that tissue again.
Gunnar had a happy feeling inside.

Last year, I played in a volleyball tournament. Like most of my teammates, I was nervous. When I began to play, our team had already lost the first two games. We were discouraged. Then people watching the game said some unkind words, and we felt even worse. We lost.

When my mother asked me how it went, I started to cry. I was so disappointed. I went to my room, where it was nice and quiet, and said a prayer. After I prayed, I felt calmer and more peaceful in my heart. I knew the Holy Ghost had comforted me and that He would always help me. With another tournament coming this year, I know He will be with me as I play.

There were some pretty strange pageants. The year that Mom was pregnant, she pulled out the slip of paper that said she had to be a Wise Man. My father drew out Mary. He said it ended up being the most moving Christmas pageant for him, even though most of us kids thought it was pretty funny. He said he had begun to understand what it meant to be Mary that year. And even at 14, I got pretty choked up when my pregnant mother appeared to give her gift to the baby Jesus. David was born that January.

On a special weekend, I had the privilege of assisting Elder Jorge M. Alvarado of the Quorum of the Seventy in the wonderful reorganization of a stake in the Dominican Republic. After stake conference, we decided to counsel with the families of the newly called leaders. Elder Alvarado looked at the young couples who had just been given this enormous responsibility and asked, speaking especially to the sisters: “Sisters, what are your feelings, what are your impressions?”
One of the sisters replied, “Elder Alvarado, after all I have just heard and felt, nothing will ever be the same again. For me, there is a before and an after this conference. Nothing will be as it was before!”
Later in the afternoon, we had the honor of visiting a couple of families in their respective homes. The same question was addressed to a couple who had been married for several decades. The sister replied with a big smile: “My husband and I have been married for several years; it may sound strange for many to hear, but after what we just went through and felt at the conference, our married life has just begun.”

Following my release from my first mission in 1923, I returned home to Whitney, Idaho, on Christmas Eve. It was a joyful reunion with my ten brothers and sisters, and especially with my father and mother.
Father and Mother always made it a practice to hang the stockings, one on each chair, for the children and to place their limited gifts on or under or near each chair. They took me into their confidence that Christmas Eve. We stayed up all during the night. In fact, we didn’t retire at all. We filled the stockings after going to the granary and elsewhere on the farm to get the presents which had been secretly hidden. This took a good part of the night. The rest we spent in visiting together, with Father and Mother telling me of the progress made by each of the children while I was away, and with me reporting to them and responding to their questions regarding my wonderful mission to the British Isles. My love for my parents had never been quite so great before as it was that night.
It was a happy morning. I could not hold back the tears as I watched with pride the reactions of my six brothers and four sisters and the loving expressions of my noble parents as they watched their posterity partake of the Christmas spirit and as they felt of the unity which prevailed in our family circle.
(December 1988, p. 21.)

Some years ago, Dr. Faun Hunsaker, then president of the Southern States Mission, was invited to stay at the home of a member. He arrived after the children were in bed.
He occupied the parents’ bedroom, and during the night heard the door open and the sound of little feet. A little boy frightened by a bad dream had come to his parents’ bed for comfort.
Sensing that something was different, the little boy felt Brother Hunsaker’s face. So he spoke quietly to the child. The startled youngster said, “You’re not my daddy!”
“No, I’m not your daddy.”
“Did my daddy say you could sleep here?”
“Yes, your daddy said I could sleep here.”
With that the little youngster crawled into bed with Brother Hunsaker and was soon asleep.
...
I said at the beginning that I might well conclude with the account of that trusting little child. I think I will do just that:
“You’re not my daddy.”
“No, I’m not your daddy.”
“Did my daddy say you could sleep here?”
“Yes, your daddy said I could sleep here.”
With that, the little boy was soon safely asleep in his arms.
God grant that all little children will be safe with every one of us because their Father and their God and our Father and our God said we could be here. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.