Gospel Story Finder

Baptism Then and Now
Maggie, 11, and Lily, 9, were baptized in a font near the place where the first members of the Church were baptized.
Both girls were very excited to be baptized. When it was Lily’s turn to be baptized, she had an interview with her bishop. “He asked me if I had a testimony of the prophet and if I paid my tithing,” Lily said.
The girls both have good memories of their baptismal days. “When I came out of the water, I had a feeling that I could do anything,” Maggie said.
Both girls got journals so they could record their feelings about their special days.

One experience of wanting more holiness came for me in the Salt Lake Temple. I entered the temple for the first time having been told little of what to expect. I had seen the words on the building: “Holiness to the Lord” and “The House of the Lord.” I felt a great sense of anticipation. Yet I wondered if I was prepared to enter.
My mother and father walked ahead of me as we entered the temple. We were asked to show our recommends, certifying our worthiness.
My parents knew the man at the recommend desk. So they lingered a moment to speak with him. I went ahead alone into a large space where everything was sparkling white. I looked up at a ceiling so high above me it seemed an open sky. In that moment, a clear impression came to me that I had been there before.
But then, I heard a very soft voice—it was not my own. The softly spoken words were these: “You have never been here before. You are remembering a moment before you were born. You were in a sacred place like this. You felt the Savior was about to come into the place where you stood. And you felt happiness because you were eager to see Him.”
That experience in the Salt Lake Temple lasted only a moment. Yet the memory of it still brings peace, joy, and quiet happiness.
I learned many lessons that day. One was that the Holy Ghost speaks in a still, small voice. I can hear Him when there is spiritual peace in my heart. He brings a feeling of happiness and assurance that I am becoming more holy. And that always brings the happiness I felt in those first moments in a temple of God.

For Christmas one year, Russell’s parents gave him a shiny black bike. When Russell was 10, his dad asked him to come work as his errand boy. He would send Russell on his bike to deliver and pick up things all over town. Russell met lots of new and interesting people. He was excited to help!
Later Russell used the money he earned from his job as an errand boy to buy his mom a present on his birthday! He wrote her a note that said, “Thanks for having me!”

The heroic accounts of what these pioneer women sacrificed and accomplished as they crossed the plains is a priceless legacy to the Church. I am moved by the account of Elizabeth Jackson, whose husband Aaron died after the last crossing of the Platte River with the Martin handcart company. She wrote:
“I will not attempt to describe my feelings at finding myself thus left a widow with three children, under such excruciating circumstances. … I believe … that my sufferings for the Gospel’s sake will be sanctified unto me for my good. …
“I [appealed] to the Lord, … He who had promised to be a husband to the widow, and a father to the fatherless. I appealed to him and he came to my aid.”4
Elizabeth said she was writing the history on behalf of those who passed through like scenes with the hope that posterity would be willing to suffer and sacrifice all things for the kingdom of God.5

He promised the Saints that if they would pay this, the Lord would send the rain they needed for their crops. The Saints paid, and the rain came.

What truly converted me to the gospel was the Book of Mormon. I read some verses from it. Then one day I decided to follow Moroni’s promise to “ask God … if these things are not true; and … he will manifest the truth of it unto you” (Moroni 10:4). So I said a prayer and started reading the very first verse in the Book of Mormon. When I read it, the Holy Ghost witnessed to me in a wonderful way that the Book of Mormon truly is the word of God.

I remember hearing the story of Elmina Taylor when she was being called to be the very first president over all the Young Women of the Church in 1880. She was frightened of the responsibility and said, “I will not, I cannot serve.” But she was persuaded that with the help of the Lord, she could serve, and for the next 24 years she served the Young Women of the Church very well.

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

Joseph Smith’s friendship with the Knights began when he was twenty years old. In late 1826, Joseph Smith became a hired hand for Joseph Knight, Sr., and others in the Colesville, New York, area. Young Joseph did farm work and probably helped at the Knights’ sawmill. He had experienced the First Vision six years before and had been meeting with Moroni for three years.

While helping the Knights, he shared a room with Joseph Knight, Jr., who wrote that in November 1826 Joseph Smith “made known to us that he had seen a vision, that a personage had appeared to him, and told him where there was a gold book of ancient date buried, and that if he would follow the direction of the Angel, he could get it. We were told this in secret.”2

Another son, Newel Knight, wrote that Joseph Smith visited them often and that they “were very deeply impressed with the truthfulness of his statements concerning the Plates of the Book of Mormon which had been shown him by an Angel of the Lord.”3

As a young girl, Florence Nwanishet developed a plan to seek a better life. “I determined to break from poverty by seeking God earnestly,” she recalled. She also resolved to respect her parents, take her education seriously, and work hard with her hands. With the help of her family, Florence became a nurse and a midwife. She also wanted a family “that would really be anchored on the Savior.”

Richard and Carol had been married for 20 years. When they first came to see a counselor to resolve their marital difficulties, Carol complained that Richard was cruel, manipulative, thoughtless, and ill tempered. The counselor turned to Richard, expecting to hear a different story, and was surprised to hear him agree with Carol. He later learned that Richard had low self-esteem and compensated for it by trying to control Carol and their children. Richard acknowledged that he needed help and said that he was eager to change.
Over the next year, the counselor watched Richard gradually become kinder and more thoughtful. Happy with the changes he was making, Richard felt good about himself. Nevertheless, Carol filed for divorce. While it was true that Richard had treated Carol poorly in the past, he had repented and changed. But the hurt Carol felt ran deep, and she was unable to forgive him.
The story of Richard and Carol is not unusual. Many couples hold grudges for years, sometimes using the memory of hurts as justification for punishing each other. Their unwillingness to forgive stifles communication, and their interaction becomes strained.

Despite local harassment, many Knight relatives were baptized on 28 June 1830. They included Father and Mother Knight, son Joseph, Newel’s wife Sally, daughter Esther and her husband William Stingham, and daughter Polly (named after her mother). Mother Knight was a Peck, and among the Peck relatives baptized were her brother Hezekiah and his wife Martha and her sister Esther and her husband Aaron Culver.8

Angry neighbors prevented the converts from being confirmed, and a constable arrested Joseph Smith. Father Knight, indignant, hired James Davidson and John Reid, neighboring farmers well versed in the law, to defend his friend. They did, and Joseph Smith was acquitted the following midnight.9

I am so grateful to the New Era and the comfort it gives me each time I read it. I especially appreciate the article “My Worst Date Ever” (May 1998). I was also as unfortunate as the person in the article. I could really relate. Time and time again I have been turned down and pushed aside by the girls in my ward. That story warmed my heart as I read it. I suddenly felt that I wasn’t just a nobody. Now I understand that it’s more important to rely on the Lord than on getting a date.
Name WithheldMichigan

Nine-year-old Seiko Tran and his six-year-old sister, Lili, were happy in their comfortable Saigon home. Their father, Loc, not only controlled considerable land but owned two homes and operated a family business. He was an attorney before being drafted into the military. He was trained as a jet-fighter pilot and was stationed at Tan San Nhut Air Base in Saigon. Young Seiko had often dreamed of flying in his father’s jet.
His father worked closely with some LDS servicemen stationed in Vietnam and became very interested in the Church before the Americans were gradually withdrawn from Vietnam, mainly in 1972 and 1973. Seiko and Lili attended private schools. They were being groomed to follow in the footsteps of their parents, who were well educated and spoke several languages. Their father, in fact, spoke Chinese, Japanese, Italian, Cambodian, English, French, and Vietnamese.
When the South Vietnamese government surrendered to North Vietnam, Seiko and Lili were hurriedly taken by their parents to the air base and, along with their mother, Van, were stuffed into the back seat of the fully-armed jet fighter assigned to their father. Suitcases containing family valuables had been exchanged for their safe entry to the base, but they didn’t have enough to satisfy everyone.
When the engines were started, there was a massive effort to stop the Tran family. With guns firing at them from all sides, Seiko and Lili huddled close to their mother. Their father’s jet shook violently under full power as it roared down the battered runway and then, as it seemed to them, leaped into the air. Their father dropped all armaments to gain speed and altitude. They were soon safe.
Seiko and Lili were too young to understand that they would not be coming back. Unlike their parents, they were more frightened than sad. Through the clouds and the mist, they took one last look at the green hills and rice fields of Vietnam as their father set a course for Thailand. All the family had now were the clothes on their backs and each other. Seiko’s first airplane ride was not turning out quite the way he had imagined.

Perhaps you will remember the story of Corrie ten Boom, a 50-year-old spinster who became a militant heroine of the anti-Nazi underground during World War II. I would like to share with you two examples of how love worked in her life to help her do good when she had been extremely ill used.

The first time was when she was a young woman in Holland. She was very much in love and had thought her love was returned. But then one day the young man came to her door with another young woman. He wanted to introduce Corrie to his fiancée. The family rallied around to help her face this crisis. After the young couple left, Corrie fled to her bedroom, where she lay sobbing. She writes: “Later, I heard Father’s footsteps coming up the stairs. For a moment I was a little girl again waiting for him to tuck the blankets tight. But this was a hurt that no blanket could shut out, and suddenly I was afraid of what Father would say. … Of course he did not say the false, idle words.

“‘Corrie,’ he began instead, ‘do you know what hurts so very much? It’s love. Love is the strongest force in the world, and when it is blocked that means pain.

“‘There are two things we can do when this happens. We can kill the love so that it stops hurting. But then of course part of us dies, too. Or, Corrie, we can ask God to open up another route for that love to travel. … Whenever we cannot love in the old, human way, Corrie, God can give us the perfect way.’”

Even as a boy, Elder Romney had a great love and appreciation for the Church. He would like to share some of his early Church memories with boys and girls, his special friends, all over the Church.
“I first became acquainted with Primary activities when I was a child in old Mexico. We were in a foreign land, building homes, roads, canals, and other community needs with our own hands, without government or Church help. We had to work long and hard on our farms, dairies, and orchards. From them we had to get to necessities of life or go without.
“But even in those primitive circumstances on the frontier, parents saw to it that I went to Primary. I remember the very room in which we met. It was in a community building that served as a chapel, a schoolhouse, and a recreational center. I remember the devoted teachers, the songs they taught us, the lessons they gave, and particularly the many walks along the river and the hikes on the smooth, grass-covered slopes of the nearby foothills. To this day I can almost breathe the exhilarating atmosphere and feel the cool sand under my bare feet and between my toes following a summer shower.
“The lessons learned and the aspirations stirred in me through those activities have stayed with and guided me all through the years.
“Our teacher taught us from the hymnbook such songs as ‘Oh, How Lovely Was the Morning,’ ‘An Angel from on High,’ ‘I Know That My Redeemer Lives,’ and ‘O My Father.’
“I thank the Lord with all my soul, and bless my teachers, that I was taught these gospel songs in my youth. All through the years they have been flowing through my mind. I have hummed and sung them as I have ridden over interminable kilometers in my present ministry. By their messages I have been inspired to reach heavenward.”

Photo illustration from Getty Images
Dorothy knew the end was coming. Every day she lost something more—not tangible things, but abilities. The ability to shower herself. The ability to fix her own meals. The ability to walk to the bathroom without falling. The ability to unlock the back door and pick up the paper. The ability to write a note to a loved one.
Some things she hadn’t lost yet, though. Her spunk. Her wit. Her gratitude. Because of that, being with Dorothy brought joy. Her home seemed to welcome guests from both sides of the veil.
One night, I was the ward Relief Society guest staying with her—supposedly helping her. A spring storm arose, and the power went off about 11:00 p.m. We discovered the power was out when I tried to turn the lights on so I could help her to the bathroom. I flipped the switch, but nothing happened. Dorothy was prepared, however. She pulled a tiny flashlight from a pocket on her walker, and somehow with that meager light we managed to stumble down the hall. After the slow walk back to her chair, she smiled and said, “Do you know how grateful I am?”
Illustration by Carolyn Vibbert
The same night, about 12:30 a.m., something woke me. I heard the prompting: “Dorothy needs her portable oxygen.” I noticed that the bubbling of Dorothy’s regular oxygen machine had stopped. The power was still off. I hurried to get her portable oxygen. I put it on her, trying not to wake her. As I placed the tubes around her face, she looked up and again said, “Do you know how grateful I am?”
Fortunately, when I texted our Relief Society president at 1:00 a.m., she answered. “The power isn’t off at my house,” she said. “I’ll call the power company.” Her call must have done the trick, because at 1:30 a.m., trucks arrived and men began restoring electricity to Dorothy’s home. When she awoke at 2:30 a.m. to make another slow, flashlight-guided walk to the bathroom, she looked through the kitchen windows. She saw all the workers and said, “I hope they know how grateful I am.”
The workers left at 5:30 that morning, just as the battery ran out on her portable oxygen. But the lights were back on. After another slow trip to the bathroom, we saw that her regular oxygen machine was bubbling once again. I helped her safely settle back into her chair. Before she closed her eyes, she told me about three other visitors she had seen during the night—family members who had come to bring her comfort and peace. Then she whispered once again, “Do you know how grateful I am?”
I left Dorothy’s home at 8:00 a.m. on Saturday morning when another sister from our ward arrived to be with her. As I sat in my car, tears started to form. I felt such love for Dorothy, such thankfulness for the tender moments I had spent with her.
I found myself offering a prayer of thanks as her words came tumbling from my heart: “Heavenly Father, do You know how grateful I am?”
Even though Dorothy was advanced in age and in need of assistance, her simple example of gratitude blessed me that night. And it continues to bless me. Though she has passed on, I often find myself thinking, “Do people know how grateful I am?” And whenever I do, I try to express that gratitude.
Learn More
Read about taking care of yourself while giving care to others in the April 2021 Liahona—one article in print (“While Caring for Others, Take Care of Yourself”) and another digital only (“Caregiver? Take Care of Yourself Too”).

On another occasion, a bishop in South America asked if Elder Kimball could bless a dying man in the hospital between stake conference sessions. They raced to the hospital and ran up the stairs and down the hall. As they entered the room, the bishop recalled, “There was an amazing change. Elder Kimball seemed to have all the time in the world.” They visited unhurriedly, administered to the man, and took their leave. Once out the door, they ran to the car and sped back to the conference.

“Bridgette, have you seen my takkies?” Jaide said. Sometimes Bridgette borrowed Jaide’s clothes. This time, Jaide’s tennis shoes were missing.
“Bridgette!” Jaide called again. “Have you …”
Bridgette came into the room, holding Jaide’s white shoes. Only they didn’t look white anymore. They were covered with mud!
“What did you do?” Jaide said.
“I had to go outside,” Bridgette said. “And it was raining. So I put on your shoes. But I stepped in some mud and …”
“You’re always ruining my things!”
“And you’re always mean to me!”
That’s when Jaide heard awful words come out of her mouth: “I wish you weren’t my sister!”
Bridgette started to cry. Then she ran out of the room.
Jaide started to cry too. She hadn’t meant to say that.
Jaide looked out the window. Along the street she could see the lavender blossoms of the jacaranda trees. There were lots of them where her family lived in South Africa.
Usually, seeing the pretty trees made Jaide feel happy. But right now she didn’t feel happy at all. She had hurt Bridgette’s feelings with those sharp, ugly words.
Now she wasn’t sure what to do. She sat down at the table and looked at her scriptures. Last night she had been reading a story with Dad and Bridgette. It was about when an angry crowd came to take Jesus away.
Jaide opened her scriptures to that part and read, “And, behold, one of them which were with Jesus stretched out his hand, and drew his sword, and struck a servant of the high priest’s, and smote off his ear.”
The disciple must have been really angry that Jesus was being taken away. Jaide read the next verse:
“Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword” (Matthew 26:51–52).
Then Jesus healed the man’s ear. Jesus was kind, even though the man was there to hurt Him.
Now Jaide realized what she needed to do. She needed to forgive her sister, like Jesus would. And then she would try to help her heal from the cutting things she had said earlier.
Jaide bowed her head and said a little prayer. “Please, Heavenly Father, help me make things right with Bridgette.”
Jaide looked out at the jacaranda trees again. She got a piece of paper and started drawing. She drew a picture of their street, lined with the beautiful trees. In the corner, she wrote, “I love you, Bridgette!” Then she went to find her sister.
Bridgette was sitting alone, staring at the floor.
“I made this for you.” Jaide held out her picture of the jacaranda trees.
Bridgette looked at the picture. “Thank you! It’s so pretty!”
“What I said was mean,” Jaide said. “I’m really sorry.”
“But I ruined your shoes.”
“It’s OK,” Jaide said. “I forgive you. Will you forgive me for saying something horrible that I didn’t really mean?”
“Yes!” Bridgette said. “Do you still want to be sisters?”
“Of course! I love you, and I want to be your sister forever.”
She liked the way those loving, happy words felt coming out of her mouth. It felt good to follow Jesus.

Patrick Smith, another young man in the Hingham stake, reports that once a month in his branch’s Aaronic Priesthood meetings, the young men report on any missionary experience they have had and then set up times to work with the full-time missionaries.
“Not long ago I went with the missionaries to teach a family who had already been taught the Joseph Smith story,” Patrick says. “The elders asked me to teach about Christ coming to the earth and establishing His Church. Preach My Gospel clearly illustrated everything and listed scriptures to back everything up. It was all outlined there.
“I knew about these things and had a testimony of them, but Preach My Gospel and going on exchanges with the missionaries has helped me teach these principles better,” Patrick says. “The doctrines outlined in the book have reinforced what I’ve learned at home and in Primary for as long as I can remember. And the things taught in Preach My Gospel invite the Spirit, which is the most important thing we can have when we’re talking about the Church.”