Gospel Story Finder

When I was about 14, my mother and father were divorced. There were seven children left at home. Little or no child support was ever paid. I watched my “champion” mom put on heavy shoes with metal toe protectors, dress like a workman, and go out to Garfield smelter to work so she could earn enough money to support our family. The poor woman would get ready for work at about 9:30 P.M., catch a bus at 10:00, work all night until 7:00 A.M., return home, and be there about the time we got up to go to school. During the day she would wash and iron, bake bread, fix meals, clean the house, and always be up when the children were home. I don’t know how she did it.
Now some of you will never have to experience conditions like that in your home. But let me say here, one of the highest places I have ever walked is in the shadow of a great mom who forgot her embarrassment and womanly image to simply support a large family until they came of age. I saw an older brother who grew up fast and was able to go to work at age 14 in the Bauer Mines near Tooele because he was large of stature. He became the masculine image to all of us who were his younger brothers and sisters.
It is no wonder that I love work. My wonderful mother taught me how to work, and when I did get a job, I knew the family was depending on me to hold it.

Some years ago I received a notification in the mail regarding a testimonial and special recognition being given to a man I had known at an earlier time in a community where I had once lived with my family. The man and his wife were leaving the community where they had spent most of their lives. The local citizens were organizing a special event to honor him for the service he had given and the influence he had had in so many of the lives of the people. My life was one that he had touched. Receiving the announcement brought a rush of recollections to my mind about ways in which I had been benefitted, encouraged, and guided by this man’s concern and kindness for me.
Almost at once I decided I would make an effort to attend this event, even though it was the winter season and the weather was threatening. The community was a good distance from the place where I lived at the time, and I knew it would not be convenient for me. I had been given no part to play in the planned proceedings, and I suspected I might not even be recognized in the throng that would likely gather. But I felt compelled to go and join the others in paying him his honor.

I’ve never written to a magazine before, but I would feel guilty if I didn’t write and tell you how much I enjoy your Photos of the Month and Mormonisms. My friend and I share a locker at school, and we decided to put some of our favorite New Era photos in it. They really start our day off in a good way.
Sandy MartiniLivermore, California

“As I walked into the chapel I felt at peace. That peace became stronger as the prophet and other Church leaders began to speak. I felt my Heavenly Father near telling me that this was the right place to be—not just on this night, but that this was the true gospel to live.”
Jenny WestEllisville, Missouri

So certain was he of the cause he led, so sure of his divinely given calling, that he placed them above the value of his own life. With prescient knowledge of his forthcoming death, he surrendered himself to those who would deliver him defenseless into the hands of a mob. He sealed his testimony with his life’s blood.

Our children need to understand the principle of agency and the significance of the choices they make. I remember a time when I was in high school and wanted to drop out of a type class because it was too hard for me. I hated that class. I begged my parents to sign the form giving their permission for me to drop the class from my schedule. My father explained over and over all the reasons why he thought I should stay in the class. He said, “It’s important to stay with something once you begin it, especially when it’s hard. You need to work and try to do your best.” Finally in desperation he said, “I’ve told you how I feel, and now, Ruth, the decision is up to you. I’ll sign the paper if you want me to.” After spending a sleepless night fighting off my desire to do what I wanted, I finally chose to stay in the class. Although I struggled with typing for the rest of the year, I’m glad I stayed, and I’m especially glad for the counsel of my father. He helped me to understand my options. He was clear on how he felt about the matter, but he didn’t force me.

“Welcome to class, everyone.”
Riley looked up at her new teacher and smiled. He looked younger than her other teachers. His voice cracked as he spoke. He cleared his throat and continued.
“I’m Mr. Berrett.”
A student raised his hand. “Are you new?” he asked.
“Yes. I just graduated from college. You are my very first class.”
Then Mr. Berrett explained what the class would be learning. He spoke softly. Sometimes it was hard to hear him.
Riley could hear kids whispering behind her. That made it even harder to hear what Mr. Berrett said. But Riley did her best to listen. When Mr. Berrett looked at her, she smiled.
At dinner that night, Mom asked about Riley’s first day at school.
“I like my classes and my teachers,” Riley said. “We have one teacher who’s brand new. He was kind of nervous. Some of the kids made fun of him.”
“Sometimes even teachers get nervous,” Dad said.
Mom smiled. “I’m glad you’re there to cheer him on.”
The next day, Riley heard some kids talking in the hall.
“I have Mr. Berrett too,” one of them said. “I couldn’t even hear him yesterday.”
“Did you hear his voice crack?”
“It’s gonna be a long year,” another kid said. They all laughed.
Riley thought about what Dad had said about teachers getting nervous too. Yesterday was Mr. Berrett’s first day of school. That was probably pretty scary. Mom said to cheer him on. How could Riley do that?
When Riley said her prayers that night, she asked Heavenly Father to let her know how to help Mr. Berrett.
The next day, Riley opened her lunch. Inside was a note from Mom. “You’re great!” it said. Riley smiled. She loved Mom’s notes. Her family called them “happy notes.”
That was it! Riley and her classmates could write a happy note for Mr. Berrett!
Riley invited some of her classmates to meet at her house after school. They decorated a big, bright poster with smiley faces and stars. They wrote things they liked about Mr. Berrett. They wrote things they had already learned from him. And they told him they were glad he was their teacher.
The next day, Riley and a few friends got to school early. They hung the poster on Mr. Berrett’s classroom door. Then they hid around the corner to watch what happened.
Soon Mr. Berrett got to his classroom. “Oh!” he said. Riley and her classmates watched him read their notes. A big smile spread across his face.
When Riley saw how happy he was, she felt happy too. She smiled and gave her friends a high five.
As they walked away, Riley heard someone say, “I can’t wait to go to Mr. Berrett’s class today!” Riley couldn’t wait either.
This story took place in the USA.

Claire, Emily, and Logan M., ages 7, 3, and 5, Utah, USA, worked together sewing masks and finished 100 masks in less than a week! It was fun but hard. They know that by serving others, they are serving Jesus.

The gospel has long been established in Mexico, but there are still areas where the Church is developing. Jaime Cruz, age 15, and his family are the only members of the Church in their small town in the mountains above Oaxaca City. He and his friend Gonzalo work on home-study seminary during the week. Every Saturday they travel two hours by bus to go to the nearest chapel for seminary class with other youth from their ward. Jaime shares what he learns in seminary with his classmates at school and answers their questions. Jaime’s younger brother, Alex, a deacon, is a leader among his friends. Alex says that when he asks them nicely not to use bad language or wear inappropriate clothing, they listen to what he says. Jaime and Alex both know that holding the priesthood is an honor and a responsibility. “I know that the priesthood is given to young men to glorify God’s name by serving others and preaching the gospel,” Jaime says.

Have you ever wondered about this mantle which comes upon a bishop? He can sit in a sacrament meeting and look out at his flock and know who is in trouble, look at his Aaronic Priesthood—the deacons, the teachers, and the priests—and know which ones need his counsel. There is a hopeless feeling when you are released as a bishop to become a General Authority, and then return to your home ward where you have been serving and realize you have lost the power of discernment with the ward members. You can’t do what you did as a bishop.

I went through a time in my life when I was like your friend. My friends at church all deserted me because I was a “bad influence.” The problem then was that I didn’t have any peers that were “good influences” on me. I was fortunate that I realized before it was too late, that I wasn’t really happy doing what I was doing.

One of my sisters in Relief Society offered a prayer not long ago and asked Heavenly Father to bless me—by name—in my responsibilities. She didn’t know my specific needs, but she knew my heart.

But Personal Progress has proven fruitful in other ways, too. For her Knowledge value project, Emily started a dog breeding business. Though the project only called for 10 hours of work, Emily didn’t stop there. Two years later, her business continues to thrive, and she’s earned enough money for college.

The Prophet’s promise was fulfilled in 1845, when Dan and his wife, Jane, were called to serve in Wales. Dan used his talent for speaking to teach the gospel with great conviction. He was fluent in Welsh and English, and witnesses recorded that he spoke so captivatingly that he could hold his audience’s attention in either language for hours.
While in Wales, Dan published Latter-day Saint periodicals, tracts, and books in Welsh. Under Dan Jones’s direction, missionaries in Wales established 29 branches and baptized nearly 1,000 people each year of his first mission. He was called on a second mission to Wales in 1852, and despite growing persecution of the Church, some 2,000 people were baptized in four years.

Elder Woodruff returned home and crossed the plains with Brigham Young, often providing food for the travelers with the new fishing rod he had brought from England.

“There is a mirror quality to conversation. If we talk about the weather, people respond by talking about the weather. If we talk about sports, they respond by talking about sports. [My] friend says he asks people he meets about their school and listens intently. After they respond by asking him about his school, he tells them about BYU and then shares his testimony of the gospel. Then, in a positive way, he offers to let them learn more from the missionaries. He has been very successful in sharing the gospel. He has also remained on excellent terms with his friends who do not respond to his invitation, because he genuinely loves them and is interested in them.”

Residents of an old age home received blankets, hats and gloves in addition to 6 toilet chairs. Members visited with the elderly, getting to know them and their stories.

As I go about from place to place, I am interviewed by representatives of the media. Invariably they ask about the place of women in the Church. They do so in an almost accusatory tone, as if we denigrate and demean women. I invariably reply that I know of no other organization in all the world which affords women so many opportunities for development, for sociality, for the accomplishment of great good, for holding positions of leadership and responsibility.
I wish all of these reporters could have been in the Tabernacle a week ago Saturday when the general Relief Society meeting was held. It was an inspiration to look into the faces of that vast gathering of the daughters of God, women of faith and ability, women who know what life is about and have something of a sense of the divinity of their creation. I wish they could have heard that great chorus of young women from Brigham Young University, who touched our hearts with the beauty of their singing. I wish they could have heard the stirring messages of the Relief Society general presidency, each of whom spoke on a phase of the subject faith, hope, and charity.
What able people these women are. They express themselves with power and conviction and great persuasiveness. President Faust concluded that service with a wonderful talk.
If those reporters who are prone to raise this question could have sat in that vast congregation, they would have known, even without further inquiry, that there is strength and great capacity in the women of this Church. There is leadership and direction, a certain spirit of independence, and yet great satisfaction in being a part of this, the Lord’s kingdom, and of working hand in hand with the priesthood to move it forward.

Soon afterward Bent returned to Denmark, and we were concerned that he might lose touch with the Church. But he attended church in Denmark, and it happened to be a fast Sunday. He was sitting at the back of the chapel minding his own business when he was asked to bear his testimony, something he had never done before, in either English or Danish. He wished he could disappear, but instead he stood and told how Svend Hansen had challenged him to read the Book of Mormon. As soon as he mentioned Svend’s name, people looked up in surprise. After the meeting Svend’s many friends wanted to know how he was doing.
Suddenly Bent had many new friends, and he felt right at home. He has since worked many years with the youth and served on the high council of the Århus Denmark Stake.

When my older brother Andy passed away from bone cancer at age 15, I felt like a part of me also died. The week after Andy’s death, I felt sick. I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Andy and I never got along. I was the one Andy always picked on. In response to his endless teasing, I did my best to be the most annoying little brother around. So why did I feel so horrible when Andy wasn’t here anymore?
At night I spent hours tossing, turning, and staring at the ceiling. Thoughts of Andy kept going through my mind. My 12th birthday would be in a few days. I wasn’t a baby anymore, but after a short prayer, I felt Mom would know what to do.
Mom didn’t know what to say. She had lost a son a few days before. I could tell by her bloodshot eyes and sad face that she wasn’t too excited about my new problem. “We’ll visit the doctor tomorrow morning. Okay, Steve?”
Morning came. My brothers and sister went to school while Mom and I left to see Dr. Freestone. I had visited the doctor’s office several times; the visits were not good memories. I looked around the room uneasily. Finally the doctor came.
“Hi, Steven, what seems to be the problem?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I have headaches, and sometimes I can’t breathe at night,” I mumbled.
“How long have you been feeling like this?” he asked.
“It’s been about a week,” I answered slowly.
He conducted his examination and asked many questions. After several tests, the doctor sat down. He studied his notes and then looked at me for a few seconds before he spoke. “Steven, I can’t find anything wrong with you,” he said. “You say you’ve had headaches though?”
I nodded.
“What have you been thinking about when you get these headaches?” he asked.
Tears welled up in my eyes. “Well, I am usually thinking about Andy.”
“Do you miss Andy?”
I had to nod. I couldn’t speak, and my eyes had turned into waterfalls. Mom also started to cry. Dr. Freestone, getting a little teary himself, said something I’ll never forget.
“You know, Steven, Andy loves you. And just because you can’t see him anymore doesn’t mean he isn’t there. Andy is happy where he is right now, and I know he wants you to be happy too.”
Everything he said made perfect sense to me. I needed to remember that I didn’t really lose my brother. He would still be with me in spirit. Mom put her arm around me as we said thank you to Dr. Freestone, wiped our tears, and went on our way.
I had always believed in the plan of salvation, but at that moment it became real to me. I would see Andy again.
I had never even thought I liked Andy, but as soon as he was gone, I missed him more than anything.
I slept that night knowing that Andy loved me and wanted me to be happy—just as he was.