Gospel Story Finder

The Savior’s love, which shines through this Christmastime experience of President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, can brighten our lives all year long.
One winter day as Christmas approached, I thought back to an experience from my boyhood. I was eleven. Our Primary president, Melissa, was an older and loving gray-haired lady.
One day at Primary, Melissa asked me to stay behind and visit with her. The two of us sat in the otherwise empty chapel. She placed her arm about my shoulder and began to cry. Surprised, I asked her why she was crying. She replied: “I don’t seem to be able to encourage the Trail Builder [now Blazer] boys to be reverent during the opening exercises of Primary. Would you be willing to help me, Tommy?”
I promised her I would. Strangely to me, but not to Melissa, that ended any problem of reverence in that Primary. She had gone to the source of the problem—me. The solution was love.
The years flew by. Marvelous Melissa, now in her nineties, lived in a nursing [home] in the northwest part of Salt Lake City. Just before Christmas, I determined to visit my beloved Primary president. Over the car radio, I heard the song “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” I reflected on the visit made by wise men those long years ago. They brought gifts of gold, of frankincense, and of myrrh. I brought only the gift of love and a desire to say “Thank you.”
I found Melissa in the lunchroom. She stared at her plate of food, teasing it with the fork she held in her aged hand. Not a bite did she eat. As I spoke to her, my words were met with a blank stare. I took the fork in hand and began to feed Melissa, talking all the time I did so about her service to boys and girls as a Primary worker. There wasn’t so much as a glimmer of recognition, far less a spoken word.
Two other residents of the nursing home gazed at me with puzzled expressions. At last they spoke, saying: “She doesn’t know anyone, even her own family. She hasn’t said a word in all the time she’s been here.”
Lunch ended. My one-sided conversation wound down. I stood to leave. I held her frail hand in mine, gazed into her wrinkled but beautiful countenance, and said: “God bless you, Melissa. Merry Christmas.”
Without warning, she spoke the words: “I know you. You’re Tommy Monson, my Primary boy. How I love you.” She pressed my hand to her lips and bestowed on it the kiss of love. Tears coursed down her cheeks and bathed our clasped hands. Those hands, that day, were hallowed [made holy] by heaven and graced by God. The herald angels did sing. Outside the sky was blue—azure blue. The air was cool—crispy cool. The snow was white—crystal white.
How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is giv’n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav’n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.*
The wondrous gift was given, the heavenly blessing was received, the dear Christ entered in—all through the doorway of love.
(See Ensign, October 1996, page 7.)

My dad was stationed in Okinawa, Japan, so I was supposed to be baptized in the East China Sea. I was really sick on that Saturday in 1996, so the baptism was rescheduled for Sunday. On Sunday morning, I was still sick and throwing up, and to make it worse, it was raining. My mom said we were going to do it anyway, so we all prayed for the rain to stop and for me to feel better. After church, we went home for my baptismal clothes, then drove to Toguchi Beach. By the time we got there, the rain had stopped and I felt better.
The bad thing then was that the tide had gone out. My dad and I walked out to a little tide pool (see photo), and he stood on my toes (to keep them in the water) when he baptized me. My Grandma and Grandpa Taylor were there from the United States to see my baptism. After I was pretty dry, Grandpa confirmed me, and I was a true member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I know that Heavenly Father helped me feel better and helped the rain to stop for my baptism. I got sick again on the way home, and it started to rain again. I hope that all of you who haven’t been baptized will be baptized and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Thomas Taylor, age 11Drummond, Oklahoma

In South America we saw once an example of broken communication lines.
We were riding far out in the northwest of Argentina. It was cattle country. The road was straight and narrow for numerous miles, and on either side was a four-wire barbed fence. Parallel to the fence line was a series of poles on which were strung the wires for telephone communication to the world. Upon each telephone pole was a crossbar, and strung from crossbar to crossbar were the communication lines.
As we traveled along where the grass had been heavy but now was burned, we found where some of the telephone poles, being in the wake of the fire, were burned off near the ground. Someone had carelessly thrown a lighted cigarette from a car window. It had ignited the grass, the telephone communications were ended or limited, and communication was down.
Nearly all the poles for a distance were scorched or burned. Some had been burned off the first few feet from the ground and were hanging by the top part in the air from the wires they were intended to support. Dangling in the air, these sagging wires had let the poles touch the ground as they were swinging in the wind, each time creating static on the line.
The poles had been set to hold up the lines, but here they were sagging.
Many a time during the three years that I was in charge of the work in South America, I tried to get long-distance calls through to these distant places. When the connection was made, almost invariably there would be static, and the words were cut in two and grating sounds were heard. In my mind’s eye I could see the telephone line on the Salta Road swaying in the breeze, hitting the ground and occasionally breaking connection.
I thought that telephone lines and telephone poles are a little like people. They are built for one purpose and sometimes serve another. They are designed to be firm and stout and to give support; but in many cases they are leaning and swaying and sagging until communications are greatly impaired, if not actually cut off.

At graduation, they were invited to give short presentations.

“Before the literacy program began, I could not read at all,” said Sandra Obeng Amoh of the Sankubenase Branch. “When my husband traveled for work, I never had family home evening. Some weeks ago when he was gone, my oldest son helped me read the manual and I gave a lesson in English to my children. Since then I have done so every week that my husband is not at home.”

“When I study the scriptures, I write the principles into a lesson so that I can share what I learned. If I learn something, I want to share it so that I can see my peers’ perspective on the lesson.”
Chester Chan, Singapore

Every time I attend my Church meetings, I feel a great desire to go every week, but for various reasons I don’t. I find plenty of excuses. I’m a carrier of HIV, and my life has gotten pretty complicated. It gets more complicated every day. But the article by Juli Housholder, “It’s Just Hair,” gave me the strength I needed to get organized and set some new goals.
The same thing happened to me that happened to Juli. I lost almost all my hair—in my case because of the strong medications I’ve had to take to keep me alive. But her testimony really woke me up, and now I’m getting back on the path. I had lost sight of my goal, which is to return to the presence of my Heavenly Father. I’m just now starting to realize that because of my illness I had forgotten the Lord.
Thanks for the testimonies you publish from members all across the world and for the talks by our leaders.Name withheld

“At first, sometimes I would know what he was going to say and answer him before he finished,” Tasha Hansen said. “But I don’t do that now because I know that he needs to practice talking.”

“Father and Mother went to great lengths to make Christmas a happy time for us. One Christmas a piece of string led from our filled stockings to our major presents hidden somewhere in the house. Hours had been spent making these preparations. We boys arose before we were supposed to, and in the dark we accidentally broke the strings. Father and Mother had to spend the remainder of the night repairing the damage.”

I received a letter from one who counts herself fortunate, and indeed fortunate she is. She writes:
“Although I have been raising our four boys as a single parent, … I am not alone. I have a wonderful ‘ward family’ that has rallied around us. …
“My Relief Society president has been there for me through my greatest hardships, encouraging my spiritual growth, personal prayer, and temple attendance.
“Our bishop has been generous in providing needed food and clothing and has helped send two of the boys to camp. He has had interviews with all of us and given each of us blessings and needed encouragement. He has helped me to budget and do what I can to help my family.
“Our home teachers have come regularly and even gave the boys blessings as they started the new school year.
“Our stake president and his counselors have checked in on us on a regular basis by taking time to visit with us at church, on the phone, or visiting our home.
“This Church is true, and my boys and I are living proof that God loves us and that a ‘ward family’ can make all the difference.
“Our priesthood leaders have been instrumental in keeping the boys active in church and in the Scouting program. [One] is an Eagle Scout and is receiving his fourth palm this week. [Another] is an Eagle with three palms. And [a third] has just turned in his Eagle papers this week. The youngest is a Webelos and loves Cub Scouts.
“We are always met with loving hearts and warm handshakes. The Christlike attitude of the stake and our ward has helped us through trials we never imagined possible.
“Life has been hard, … but we put on the whole armor of God as we kneel in family prayer … , asking for help and guidance and sharing thanks for the blessings we have received. I pray daily for the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost to guide me as I raise these boys to be missionaries and encourage them to be true to the gospel and the priesthood they hold.
“I am proud to say I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I know this Church is true. I sustain my Church leaders. We are doing well, and I thank everyone for their love, and prayers, and acceptance.”
What a great letter that is! How much it says about the way this Church functions and should function throughout the world. I hope that every woman who finds herself in the kind of circumstances in which this woman lives is similarly blessed with an understanding and helpful bishop, with a Relief Society president who knows how to assist her, with home teachers who know where their duty lies and how to fulfill it, and with a host of ward members who are helpful without being intrusive.
I have never met the woman whose letter I have read. Notwithstanding the cheerful attitude she conveys, I am sure there has been much of struggle and loneliness and, at times, fear. I notice that she works to provide for her needs and the needs of her boys, who are in their teens. I assume her income is inadequate, because she indicates that the bishop has helped them with food and clothing.

Are you in the right place, or have you pegged yourself? One young girl was getting into her mid-twenties and without opportunity. I urged her to move from the home that she shared with several older girls, leave the office as stenographer, and go to college where she would meet people of the right age. Sometime later I happened one day to be on that campus, and here she came to me, bubbling like a fresh new breeze, with a bright ribbon tying her hair and an optimistic and happy personality. A few months later I was invited to a temple marriage. It may not always work that well, but it did in this case.

A true story from France.
Adeline finished drawing the last check box on her paper. Next to it, she wrote, Say prayers morning and night.
“What’s this?” Maman asked.
“I’m making a checklist for tomorrow,” Adeline said. “I’m going to have a perfect day!”
Maman raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
Adeline nodded. “In Primary we learned about being perfected in Christ. I’m going to be extra good so I can have perfect days.”
“I’m happy you want to make good choices,” Maman said. “But you know, there was only one person on the earth who was perfect—Jesus Christ.”
Adeline sighed. “I know. But I really want to try! I think I can do it.”
When morning came, Adeline was ready. She made her bed and said her morning prayer.
At breakfast, she helped feed her little sister, Sylvia. When Sylvia spilled her peaches all over her chair, Adeline took a deep breath. She counted to four and helped clean up.
At school, Adeline looked for people who needed help. Lucas had a sprained ankle, so she carried his lunch tray for him.
While leaving school, Adeline smiled her biggest grin at the lady who held the school gate open. The lady usually looked grumpy. But today she smiled back!
After school, Adeline gave Sylvia her favorite stuffed animal to play with. And before going to bed, she said a prayer. She checked off the items on her list and snuggled into her blankets. She felt very proud and very tired. She was ready for another perfect day tomorrow!
When Adeline woke up the next day, all her dolls were scattered around the floor. Sylvia was holding one and sucking on it. She must have pulled them all out!
“Sylvia!” Adeline yelled. “I told you not to touch my dolls!” She grabbed the doll Sylvia was holding. Sylvia cried and ran away.
Adeline glanced at her checklist on the door. Her heart sank.
Maman came in just as Adeline felt a tear on her cheek.
“What’s happened?” Maman asked.
“I forgot to say my prayer. I didn’t make my bed.” Adeline’s voice wobbled. “And I was mean to Sylvia. My perfect day is officially over!”
Maman gave Adeline a hug. “It’s very hard to be perfect all the time. Actually, it’s impossible.”
Adeline frowned. “But then how can I be perfect in Christ?”
“That’s just it! We can’t be perfected without Jesus Christ,” Maman said. “He gave His life for us because Heavenly Father knew we would make mistakes and would need help. Jesus takes our imperfect attempts and makes them better.”
Adeline thought about it. “So I can’t have perfect days every day?” she asked.
Maman shook her head. “No. You’ll have hard days. But you’ll have good days too.” Maman tucked Adeline’s hair behind her ear. “You trying your best is what matters. Even if a day starts out with a wrong choice, we can always say a prayer to repent and try again. With Jesus Christ’s help, you are enough.”
Adeline felt warm inside.
“Now, for your list.” Maman pointed to the list. “How about we just focus on one thing?”
Adeline looked at her list. She tore off part of the paper and taped what was left back on the door. The one item still there said, Say prayers morning and night.
Adeline smiled. “My day may not have started perfect, but I can still say a prayer now. And with Jesus Christ’s help, it will be enough!”

Ellie loved hugs. Hugs from Dad. Hugs from Grandma and Grandpa. Hugs from Mom. Hugs made her feel warm. And safe. And happy.
That’s why Ellie hugged Mom during church. She loved sitting on Mom’s lap. Mom always held her close.
Then sacrament meeting ended. It was time for Primary. Ellie loved Primary. She was a big girl now. Three years old! She even had her own scriptures!
But today Ellie just wanted to keep hugging Mom forever.
Mom carried Ellie down the hall. In the Primary room, Mom sat Ellie down on a chair.
“Can I go with you?” Ellie said.
“No,” Mom said. Her voice was kind. “You need to be in your class,” she said. “And I need to be in my class.”
Mom kissed Ellie’s cheek. Then she walked out the door.
Ellie felt tears rolling down her cheeks.
She thought about Mom holding her. Mom always held her when they read the Book of Mormon. They usually read with the family. Sometimes Ellie and Mom read by themselves.
Ellie picked up her Book of Mormon. Inside was a picture of Jesus.
Ellie closed the book and hugged it. She felt like she was hugging Jesus. She felt warm. And safe. And happy. It was the best hug ever!
What helps you feel better when you are sad?

A year later, Artur J. Miranda was called as a counsellor in the Mozambique Maputo mission presidency to serve exclusively in Angola, where he had moved with his family from Portugal. (Today, Elder Artur J. Miranda serves as an Area Seventy and assisted Elder Joni L. Koch in conducting the business of organizing the Luanda Angola Stake.)

Second, don’t overschedule yourselves or your children. We live in a world that is filled with options. If we are not careful, we will find every minute jammed with social events, classes, exercise time, book clubs, scrapbooking, Church callings, music, sports, the Internet, and our favorite TV shows. One mother told me of a time that her children had 29 scheduled commitments every week: music lessons, Scouts, dance, Little League, day camps, soccer, art, and so forth. She felt like a taxi driver. Finally, she called a family meeting and announced, “Something has to go; we have no time to ourselves and no time for each other.” Families need unstructured time when relationships can deepen and real parenting can take place. Take time to listen, to laugh, and to play together.

To the missionaries, the missionaries who came knocking on my door to bring me the message of the restoration of the gospel, to those who taught me, who baptized me, to those with whom I had the great pleasure to work in the France-Switzerland Mission, missionaries whom I respect for their dedication, their sacrifice, and their example.

Spencer drew pictures for family members as well. One day, an editor of a publishing company visited Spencer’s aunt and uncle’s home and saw a drawing that Spencer had given them hanging on the wall. The editor asked for Spencer’s contact information, then called him and asked him to make a portfolio to present to authors when they were looking for illustrators. This led to him being selected to illustrate I Am Safe.

After living for 20 years in the same ward, I married and moved to a distant city, where my husband continued his schooling. The people were friendly, but I was shy by nature and struggled to feel comfortable. One Sunday morning as I stood up from the bench at the back of the chapel and turned to go to Sunday School, a member of the bishopric greeted me with a smile and a handshake. Brother Goates was one of many who had extended themselves in becoming acquainted with us. As he shook my hand, he said, “Virginia, get off the back row and join the congregation!”

All at once, I saw with a new perspective. I hadn’t joined the congregation because I was so busy thinking about myself. As the weeks moved on, the acceptance of a calling automatically moved me off the back row, demanding that I think about someone besides myself. My comfort and confidence grew proportionately. Callings and assignments are easy ways to become involved in the lives of others. Paradoxically, as we concentrate on the needs of others, our own needs become less controlling.

This tenderness of heart allowed Brother Quasie to be touched by the Spirit when he first heard about the Church. In 1986, when he was 16 years old, the Church was new in the Cape Coast area. One night, a friend invited him to see a movie in the town open market. It was a movie about Joseph Smith’s First Vision and the Book of Mormon. After watching the movie, he felt that it was true and wanted to learn more but wasn’t sure how to get more information. Then he met Elder and Sister Nelson from the United States. They taught him the gospel by having Anthony proselyte with them and after a week, they asked him if would like to be baptized. “I decided to be baptized without consulting my parents, who were Catholic. I took that decision independently”, he said.
In those days, baptisms in Cape Coast were done in the ocean. On 30 April 1986, Brother Quasie was baptized on the same beach that the first Ghanaian members had been baptized a few years earlier.

One thing my Latter-day Saint friends taught me was that gossiping and spreading lies is evil. I tried to avoid gossip and changed the subject whenever someone started to say unkind things.

In Italy there is a majestic sculpture of Moses with a crack on one of the knees. A tour guide may say that Michelangelo, viewing the masterpiece, hurled a chisel at the sculpture and exclaimed in disdain, “Why doesn’t it speak?”