Gospel Story Finder

In another stake, in a Sunday morning Primary meeting of that stake conference, I met two beautiful daughters of a faithful young Latter-day Saint physician and his devoted wife. The older child was in a wheelchair, and the younger child moved with great effort. Both of these children suffer from a degenerative disease of genetic origin thought to be progressive and incurable. According to medical wisdom, their time in this life is extremely limited. Their eyes were beautiful and clear—full of faith and love of their Savior, whose presence had been made real in their lives by loving parents and grandparents and devoted Church teachers.
To fulfill a deep desire for more children, their devoted parents have adopted two other beautiful daughters from another country. Instead of cursing God as Job was encouraged by his associates to do in the face of other faith-testing burdens, this couple has reached out to these two beautiful additional daughters, who now feel the blessing of being reared in a household of faith with love from parents whose hearts and lives demonstrate the pure love of Christ.

At a stake conference before Caleb’s passing, I spoke with a General Authority about our experience with Caleb. After he acknowledged the exhausting effort needed to care for Caleb, I thought he would encourage me to faithfully persevere in the service and sacrifice I was providing. Instead, his next four words transformed my relationship with Caleb forever.
He simply said, “You are being exalted.”

On Faith and Endurance
When the barn burned and we lost our cattle, some said, “I can’t believe you were able to get through it.” We said we couldn’t do it any other way than how we did. We just worried about keeping the Sabbath and getting over the pain. We believed that God was watching over us and blessing us.

Last October when my teachers quorum was learning about becoming more Christlike, we served some families in our ward. During the Duty to God lesson that month,* we talked about the many examples of service in Christ’s life. We also read Doctrine and Covenants 20:53, which says that one of a teacher’s priesthood responsibilities is to watch over and strengthen the Church. Together, we thought of some ways we could do this through service.
For example, as a quorum we mowed our bishop’s lawn. We also visited an elderly man in our ward, which was fun because he told us stories about his life and shared some lessons he’d learned. Both of these experiences made me feel great. As a quorum, we also completed the “Serve Others” section in the Fulfilling My Duty to God booklet. I felt like an instrument in Heavenly Father’s hands, and I felt like I was coming closer to Heavenly Father as we served.

Begin with some vision and much determination to do good. Be patient and humble as you try to learn one true precept after another. As you do so, you will find more self-confidence and increased faith in the Lord. You will find you don’t really understand a gospel principle until you live it. Paying tithing may be difficult for some even though the Lord has made great promises to those who do so. When it comes into a person’s mind and heart to pay an honest tithing out of appreciation, love, and obedience, then he begins to understand what the Lord has been promising him.

As a teenage boy, I began working for a contractor pouring concrete foundations for homes. I learned that concrete was made of a mixture of very simple elements which of themselves were not stable enough for a foundation. But mixed together in proper sequence and proportions, tiny grains of sand, small pebbles, water, and cement powder form a unique substance of unusual strength and durability. For a few hours after the concrete is mixed, it can be poured into any desired form. At first, before it is completely hardened, even a tiny bird hopping across its soft surface will leave an imprint. Later, however, it becomes so firm an elephant could walk over it without leaving any tracks.

Yellow Leaf was lying on a moss-covered boulder that overhung a deep, clear brook. Dreamily, she watched a huge speckled trout nosing among the pebbles on the bottom of the deep pool. Olive green, with iridescent flecks of color on each side, the trout was so beautiful, Yellow Leaf had no desire to catch it. A pale golden moth fluttered too near the surface. The trout spun upward with incredible speed. “Aiii,” the Indian girl sighed in sorrow as the moth vanished.
A strange squealing sound startled Yellow Leaf and drew her to the top of the hill. Dropping flat, she watched in amazement as a clumsy, bargelike wagon drawn by a pair of oxen pulled to a stop below. The squealing sound she had heard was the iron-bound wheels, badly in need of grease.
Judging from the clouds of dust still hanging in the air, the wagon had come out of the arid, boulder-strewn badlands. The people in the wagon must have traveled all night to have survived; it would have been impossible to travel during the heat of the day.
The wagon had no cover; only charred pieces of canvas clung to the metal hoops across the top of the wagon. There were no water barrels lashed to the sides. Creeping closer, Yellow Leaf saw a telltale arrow piercing the wagon bed.
This family was probably all who had survived from a wagon train. Indian tribes to the east, who were also enemies of her tribe, were on the warpath because of a broken treaty. These Indians must have attacked the wagon train.
Yellow Leaf felt pity for the little family. “They will have little chance of survival here,” she murmured. Yellow Leaf watched the woman, carrying a small baby, herd two other children to the meager shade provided by a large boulder. The man, bent with fatigue, moved about among the rocks, searching.
“Water! They’re dying of thirst!” the girl whispered as she remembered the missing barrels. “If they had horses instead of oxen, the horses would sniff out the water and lead the people to it.”
Yellow Leaf yearned to help, but she didn’t dare. Even if she could speak their language, it wouldn’t help. The man had a gun, and she would almost certainly be shot if she approached. Regretfully she turned to leave.
A feeble wail from the baby stopped her. It sounded like her baby brother. Looking back, she saw that the man was some distance away, still threading his way through the barren rocks. There was water out there, but he wouldn’t know where to find it. He was even going in the wrong direction and would soon drop in his tracks from thirst and weakness.
There was another weak cry from the baby, and Yellow Leaf raced back to the brook. Spilling the lush purple berries from the earthenware pot, she filled it with icy water. Hesitating for only a moment, Yellow Leaf glided silently down the steep slope.
The woman was lying there, curled protectively around her children, her eyes closed, and her lips cracked and swollen. Forgetting all danger, the Indian girl knelt and scooped up water in her hands, letting it splash on the woman’s face. Her skyblue eyes reflected disbelief as they fluttered open and stared into Yellow Leaf’s dark eyes. For a long moment, the girl held her breath, expecting the woman to begin screaming; that would bring the man running with one of the long guns feared by Yellow Leaf’s people.
But the woman’s panic was overcome by concern for her children. Taking a metal cup from the wagon, the mother watched carefully as the older boy and girl drank, making certain they didn’t drink too much. She cared for the baby, and then she wet cloths to cool the heads of the children. Only then did she drink herself.
Preoccupied with watching the children, Yellow Leaf didn’t hear the man approach. She wasn’t aware of the danger until the woman cried out, “No, Frank. No! She brought us water.”
The man seemed dazed as he lowered his rifle. “Water? Where could she find water in this dried-up land? There’s not a sprig of grass anywhere!”
When he too had quenched his thirst, the tall, gaunt man pointed to the clay pot and asked, “Where?” His tired face fell as Yellow Leaf pointed to the bluff.
“We could never get the wagon up there,” he sighed, motioning toward the heavy wagon and the thirsty oxen.
Yellow Leaf understood. Standing up, she walked to the wagon and stood waiting. “She wants us to get in. Maybe she knows a way!” the woman said hopefully.
Walking ahead of the oxen, Yellow Leaf led the way around the barren hills to a gentle slope that led up and then down into a green valley where the brook wound like a silver thread.
“It’s the most beautiful spot I’ve ever seen! It’s exactly the place we’ve dreamed about,” the woman cried in delight.
“Yes. There are trees to build a cabin, and the land wouldn’t take too much clearing. It’s rich ground, too, Sarah. Almost anything should grow here,” the man said softly, his eyes bright with excitement and hope.
Neither noticed when the Indian girl slipped away. Turning for a last glimpse, Yellow Leaf felt tears sting her eyes as she watched the man and woman, hand in hand, lost in their brave dreams for the future. They were the first white people who had ever seen the fertile valley hidden away behind the desolate rocky hills. Would they ever know the anguish Yellow Leaf suffered at giving them her beautiful green land?
A chill swept over Yellow Leaf. Suddenly she felt like the fluttering golden moth.

Danny found his mother’s best shoes all caked with mud and dirt after a rainstorm. He cleaned, polished, and shined them. Then he polished and shined them again. Finally, when they looked like new, he took them to his mother. She was very surprised and very pleased. She hugged him, then took some money from her purse and put it into his hand. Later, when she put on those newly polished shoes, she felt something in the toe of one of them. It was the money she had given Danny. It was wrapped in a small note that said, “Mother, I did it for love.”

DR Congo health officials were so impressed by how the Church handled its part of the measles campaign, which included radio and television advertising, they asked for help with another project.
In 2008 the Church paid for the production of updated materials—posters and flip charts—so the government could train health specialists and educate mothers about the importance of primary vaccinations such as measles, polio, tetanus, and tuberculosis.
“[The Church’s] gift will help us educate families and make them healthier,” said Dr. Charlotte Ngokaba, National Director of Vaccinations in the DR Congo.

Following service in the Portugal Lisbon Mission, Elder Teixeira joined the Portuguese Air Force and was stationed in Oeiras as part of a NATO international unit. While there, he was called as the Church’s public affairs director for the country. At a training meeting, he met the Lisbon stake’s public affairs coordinator, Filomena Lopes Teles Grilo, who also lived in Oeiras. They were married in the Bern Switzerland Temple on June 5, 1984, and are the parents of two sons and one daughter.

Like the Malmroses, other couples find that when they trust the Lord, He prepares the way. That’s what happened for Alvin and Corazon Rieta of Kawit, Cavite, in the Philippines.
“Two years prior to our decision to serve, we began putting into place firm plans for our family business,” Elder Rieta explains. “Our son and daughter had graduated from college and could take over for us, but we wondered who would solve business problems and how our clients would react to our plans.”
Sister Rieta was also concerned about leaving her aging mother. “I was afraid we might lose her while we were away,” she says. “I also felt unequal to the challenge of teaching the gospel.”
They counseled with their bishop and with a couple who had recently served in Davao. “All of them bore strong testimonies that the Lord would guide each couple to know how to deal with their affairs at home, their family, and the funds for their mission,” Sister Rieta says.
“As we sought guidance,” Elder Rieta says, “our fears were addressed—our business went well in spite of challenges, our clients expressed joy and support, and our family drew closer together in taking care of our sick mother. We began to understand that the Lord truly would help us.”
The Rietas now serve in member and leadership support in the Philippines Cagayan de Oro Mission.

My Book of Mormon also has many notes in the margins and is heavily underlined. I was in Florida once with President Hinckley. He turned from the pulpit and asked for a copy of the scriptures. I handed him my copy. He thumbed through it for a few seconds, turned and handed it back, saying, “I can’t read this. You have got everything crossed out!”

1 At the edge of the Congo rain forest near the equator, where the days are hot and steamy and the nights are cool and damp, Little Gorilla sleeps snuggled next to his mother on the jungle floor. Night sounds around him of softly moving leaves and a far-off leopard’s roar soon become the morning noises of chattering monkeys and twittering birds.
2 Before long Little Gorilla and his mother are following their troop leader, Silverback, in search of food. Moving slowly through the forest, they nibble leaves, wild celery, bamboo shoots, and blackberries.
3 Little Gorilla’s mother discovers more fruit in a nearby tree. She is too heavy to climb the tree, so Little Gorilla climbs the tree and gathers the fruit for both of them.
4 At midmorning the adult gorillas stop in a clearing to rest. For a while Little Gorilla plays with the other young gorillas, wrestling, sliding down a log that is slick with moss, and playing tag. Then he goes over to his mother, and she grooms him. It feels good as she parts his fur with her fingers, cleaning him from head to toe before his nap.
5 At midafternoon it is again time to search for food. As the gorillas follow Silverback, he stops abruptly and begins hooting. He places a single leaf between his lips and beats his chest. The other gorillas run to hide in the underbrush.
6 Silverback’s usually gentle brown eyes now stare in anger from under the thick, bony ridge of his forehead. He thumps the ground with his hand and begins ripping up bushes and throwing them around.
7 Little Gorilla and his mother peer between the leaves of their hiding place and watch Silverback run sideways, then charge toward a leopard. The spotted cat snarls at Silverback but swiftly retreats. Cautiously the rest of the gorilla troop again fall in line behind Silverback in search of food.
8 As Little Gorilla follows his mother, he watches Silverback. He had been depending on his mother for everything, but now he is older and will soon leave her. Part of him wants to grow up and be a fearless leader like Silverback. And part of him wants to remain a baby and stay with his mother.
9 It is hard to let go for both Little Gorilla and his mother, but tonight Little Gorilla is to sleep by himself, up in the trees. He has been practicing how to build his nest of twigs and leaves, and he can do it very well. Sitting in his nest, he hears the sound of the distant river. He is lonely.
10 Climbing down to be with his mother, he finds that she does not welcome him as she once did. She will not let Little Gorilla sleep in her nest. It is hard for her to send him away, but she must. Little Gorilla once again climbs the tree to his own nest, where he listens to the river’s current until sleep comes.

After two students were killed and 22 others wounded in a tragic school shooting in Springfield, Oregon, last May, LDS teens in the area wanted to do something to help their community heal. A tri-stake youth conference was quickly rearranged to include a service project at the high school where the tragedy occurred.
Three bus loads of LDS youth from the Eugene, Eugene West, and Santa Clara Stakes cleaned and beautified the school grounds. Many of the teens who worked on the project had been at the school when the shooting took place and had friends who were wounded. For these students, the service project was as healing for themselves as it was for the community.
“It was such a good feeling to put things back together for our school and community and ourselves,” said Kawika Lawther. “Having the gospel in our lives also helped us get over our feelings so much faster,” added Corwin Lewis, student-body vice president of the school.

A natural athlete, Alex especially enjoys hockey, soccer, and football. But sports don’t come first in his life. A year ago he quit a hockey team because it was starting to practice and play games on Sundays. He has since taken up figure skating and shows great promise.

As believers, we have great need for courage in these times, even in our experiences with ministering. John (names have been changed) was assigned to minister to Peter, a member who had never attended ward meetings. John was apprehensive about approaching Peter, since he hadn’t met him and didn’t know his story. But remembering the counsel to “love, share, and invite,” John prayed for guidance and then set out to first become sincere friends with Peter. He spent time getting to know Peter, with frequent visits, phone calls, and an occasional outing for breakfast. John grew to know Peter well, and Peter gained trust in their friendship. When he needed help, it was natural for him to reach out to John, who gladly responded.
One day, John felt impressed that perhaps Peter was ready for an invitation to come back to church. During one of their visits, he brought up the idea in a natural way. Peter paused. “I haven’t been to church in 17 years,” he said. “But you know, I think I will.” When Peter arrived at the ward, John was there to welcome him and sit with him. John felt grateful he was able to get over his initial fear. Through these efforts, both men gained a true friendship that blessed their lives.

Caleb grabbed his shovel. It was time to work in the garden!
He helped Mom carry the tools. There was a little rake. And there was a shovel for Mom too. They were ready to start working.
Mom and Caleb walked to the garden. Oh no! It was full of weeds! There were short, spiky weeds. And there were tall, wispy weeds. So many weeds!
But Caleb knew what to do. He got right to work. Caleb dug under the weeds. Then Mom pulled the weeds out of the dirt. They made a great team! Soon they had a giant pile of weeds.
It was time for a break. Caleb took a big drink of water.
“What are we going to do when the weeds are gone?” Caleb asked.
Mom brushed some dirt off her hands. “Once the weeds are gone, we can plant seeds. Like tomatoes and beans and—”
“And corn?” Caleb asked. He loved corn.
“And corn,” Mom said. “We can’t forget that!”
Caleb stood up. “OK. Let’s get back to work.” He picked up his shovel. He needed to make room for corn plants.
Caleb dug and dug. It was hard work. But Caleb was a hard worker. He could do hard things. Together, he and Mom made another pile of weeds. Then another. Then another. So many weeds!
Finally Caleb and Mom had pulled out all the weeds. Caleb flopped down on the grass. He was so tired! Mom flopped down next to him.
“You are such a hard worker,” Mom said. “Those weeds would have taken me all day. You made it fast and fun.”
Caleb smiled big. He was a hard worker. “It’s good when we work together.”

The home teachers had scarcely sat down and exchanged greetings with the family when their teenage son blurted out, “How can you say we’re the only true church when some of the best kids in school aren’t Mormons and they believe in their church just as much as we do?”
A quick glance at the young man’s father was met with a tired shrug, as much as if to say, “We’ve tried; now see what you can do with him.”
The older of the home teachers paused a moment, then said, “Well, Chris, that’s a fair question. It reminds me of something that happened when I was just a couple of years older than you are. When I first went away to college back east, I took certain notions along with me—prejudices, I guess. I thought I would be going from the shelter of simple farm life to a decadent city where my principles would be challenged every minute. But that didn’t really happen. I was surprised to find that most of my classmates were fine people. Some of them belonged to other churches, and some didn’t belong to any church at all. And as I observed their behavior, I sometimes wondered if I would have been as honest as many of them were if I hadn’t been raised in a Latter-day Saint family. Have you ever thought about that?”
Chris nodded, and the home teacher continued: “So when we say that ours is the only true church, we’re not saying that we’re superior to other people or that we’re the only people on earth who are concerned about doing good, but that this is the one church that the Lord has authorized through priesthood power to preach his gospel and perform the ordinances necessary for salvation. We want all people to have these good things. …”
The discussion continued calmly. After looking up “One Lord, one faith, one baptism” (Eph. 4:5) and a few other scriptures, Chris soon had a satisfactory answer to his question.

My heart was deeply touched by the obedience of sisters I recently met in a country at war. I heard the branch Relief Society president commend them for their commitment to the work of the Lord and to each other during the perilous times they faced each day. She said, “You never know when you step outside your door whether you will be attacked by terrorists, yet you do your visiting teaching and attend all of your church meetings. You are courageous women who do a mighty work quietly in such a time as this.”

A few days before he died, he was in the temple on the fourth floor with his associates of the First Presidency and the members of the Twelve. He was so week and frail that there was every good reason that he never should have been there. Before our meeting started, as he sat, members of the Twelve walked by to shake his hand and greet him. There was almost no response at all because of the physical drain that had come to him over the last number of months. There was almost no capacity to communicate or respond in the present situation. His hearing was very limited, his eyesight failing, his frail body filled with aches. As I shook his hand privately and felt little or no response, I gave it an extra squeeze. I said, “President Kimball, I’m Marvin Ashton.” How can I ever forget his last words to me when he looked up just a little and said very softly, “Marvin Ashton, I love you.”