Gospel Story Finder

Oct.–Nov. 1856
Severe snowstorms trapped the Willie and Martin handcart companies in Wyoming. Many were saved by courageous rescuers from the Salt Lake Valley.

Sergio, Sonia’s padre (father), is an engineer. He joined the Church five years ago and now serves as branch president of one of four branches in Torino. A few years ago the branch had to rent part of a building to meet in, but now they have a beautiful chapel. Sonia likes to go there for Primary. She especially likes to sing Christmas songs and study the New Testament.

“Enjoy the people you’re taking the class with. I sat beside somebody who made me laugh. So when we would have periods where we would be working on assignments, she would lift my spirits. Find some friends who are good at the subject who can help you. I sometimes learned more from my fellow classmates than I did from the teachers because my friends coud explain things at my level.”

“Just knowing what’s going on helps,” Clay said. “One time when I was with Dad on the truck, he suddenly slowed down. When I asked why, he said, ‘I have a feeling that there is trouble ahead.’ And sure enough, just around the bend was a wreck. He could have plowed right into it. Dad said that he had been prompted to slow down. He said that someone was looking out for him.”

During a lesson in the Laurel class of the Pickering Ward, Toronto East Stake, the girls were talking about how to help others, particularly those in the Young Women program in their own ward. They proposed a “big sister” program.
Each Laurel was assigned two or three girls in the Beehive or Mia Maid classes. They were to keep the names of their “little sisters” secret but were to offer acts of service and help their girls to feel accepted.
The program was successful in that it resulted in some new friendships and an increase of love among the Young Women.

How do you get to Carnegie Hall? I do think it takes a lot of practice, but it takes studying and developing. I haven’t had a lot of training with acting. I’ve done a few workshops and Camp Broadway. My first time acting, I didn’t have a speaking part. I’ve improved since. I guess it would be practicing that is the main thing. But studying and working hard is a huge part.

Entering the United States Navy in the closing months of World War II was a challenging experience for me. I learned of brave deeds, acts of valor, and examples of courage. One best remembered was the quiet courage of an 18-year-old seaman—not of our faith—who was not too proud to pray. Of 250 men in the company, he was the only one who each night knelt down by the side of his bunk, at times amidst the jeers of the curious and the jests of unbelievers, and, with bowed head, prayed to God. He never wavered. He never faltered. He had courage.

Observing the growing discord, Kenneth Payne, a member of our stake presidency, asked to speak. He stood and began telling us about his son Brian, who had served in the Japan Tokyo North Mission. When President Payne and his family greeted Brian at the airport upon his return from his mission in March 2003, he complained of a stiff, sore jaw. Within weeks, Brian was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
A month later he began a regimen of chemotherapy and then radiation. President Payne said doctors had planned a bone-marrow transplant for September 22, but just after the first of that month, “Brian began having difficulty.”
He was hospitalized the second week of September. By then, because of the cancer’s aggressive nature, doctors determined that it was too late for a transplant. The family brought Brian home from the hospital on September 21. He passed away the next morning.
“September 22 is a special day for my family and me,” said President Payne. “On that day we slow down and think about Brian, his contributions to our family, and how he gave the last two years of his life to the Lord and to the Japanese people, whom he loved. We miss him, and on that day we reflect upon his life and honor his memory.”

As I walked out of the Church Administration Building after my interview with President Hinckley on Friday afternoon, I recalled the words of Enoch:
“And when Enoch had heard these words, he bowed himself to the earth, before the Lord, and spake before the Lord, saying: Why is it that I have found favor in thy sight, and am but a lad, and all the people hate me; for I am slow of speech; wherefore am I thy servant?
“And the Lord said unto Enoch: Go forth and do as I have commanded thee, and no man shall pierce thee. Open thy mouth, and it shall be filled, and I will give thee utterance, for all flesh is in my hands, and I will do as seemeth me good” (Moses 6:31–32).

Justin knew he’d seen that guy across the room before this party. But where? He thought about it most of the evening but couldn’t remember. Then it came back. He was passing the sacrament that time I went to church. Could it have been almost two years ago?
“Hey, you’re a Mormon, aren’t you?” The voice interrupted Jared’s thoughts.
“Yeah,” said Jared. “Are you?”
“Well, I was baptized by the missionaries four years ago, but I haven’t gone to church in a long time.”
“Well, it’s good to know there’s another member in our school. I’m Jared McInelly.”
“I’m Justin McKinley. Hey, with a last name like McInelly, I bet our lockers are close.”
And so it went. The two found they had a lot in common. Their lockers, arranged alphabetically, were in the same hall, they both played football, and they ended up living in the same ward boundaries.
Jared thought a lot of Justin and wondered how he could interest him in attending church again. He decided the youth activities would be the way to go. So one day after practice, he gave it his best shot.
“Hey, Justin, our stake is planning a youth conference next Saturday. There will be workshops in the morning and afternoon, a great lunch, and a dance that night. Why don’t you come and check it out? I could pick you up.”
“Well, I guess I could try it. I probably won’t stay for the dance, though.”
“All right,” Jared said. “We’ll come by about 9:30.”
Jared thought about Justin and the youth conference all week. Would the classes appeal to him? Would he feel accepted? Would the kids be friendly to him, and would he feel the Spirit?
Jared had talked to his teachers quorum adviser, Brother Gunnel, about how they could help reactivate Justin. He knew his leader would be coming to the conference, so he called him about Justin.
“That’s great news, Jared. How about if I pick you both up, and then we can visit on the way?”
Right on schedule they picked up Justin. He seemed to really enjoy the classes. Over lunch he said, “This reminds me of how I used to feel when the missionaries taught us. Those guys were the greatest. I’ve always wanted to be like them.”
After lunch, Brother Gunnel approached the two.
“So, Justin, are you planning on coming back to the dance tonight?”
“Well, I’d like to, but I don’t have a tie, and they said ties were required.”
“A tie?” Brother Gunnel asked. “I have a ton of ties. What color do you want?”
“Pink.”
“Pink? No problem.”
It was true. Brother Gunnel did have a lot of ties in a lot of colors—just not pink. And although pink may seem an odd choice, it was very popular at the time. But a great leader wasn’t going to let that barrier keep Justin from the dance. And if a pink tie could make Justin feel like all the rest of the kids, then he would get a pink tie. A quick consultation with the Young Women president gave Brother Gunnel directions to the nearest mall and a store that was bound to carry a pink tie.
Before the end of afternoon classes, Brother Gunnel was back at the stake center clutching his prize.
“Here you go, Justin. Will this do?”
“Hey, thanks, Brother Gunnel. It’s the perfect color.”
“Great. Have fun tonight.”
It just so happened that Jared was planning on wearing his pink necktie that night too. The girls did a good job of fellowshipping Justin at the dance, and he had a great time. From then on, he came to youth activities and then to Sunday meetings. His parents came, too, sporadically at first, then every week.
Jared and Justin became best friends.
And the pink tie? It went to all the stake dances—just in case someone needed it.

The Beehive girls of the Richland 5th Ward, Richland Washington Stake, wanted to learn a new skill. They chose to learn to crochet. As they each learned the basic stitches, they created different colored granny squares. Their efforts were combined into a colorful afghan which was presented to an older couple in their ward. Now each girl is working on a granny-square afghan of her own.

When I was a new member of the Church, a temple opened. I got to put cement around the cornerstone with President Hinckley. That was a wonderful spiritual experience.
Kate Gripenstraw, age 11Fresno, California

What a choice Heidi Heistø had to make! Should she become a doctor or a professional musician? Both paths were open to her. Both were wonderful ways to serve her country and her fellowmen. Both were traditions in her family. Both seemed attainable. She has the talent in both areas.
So Heidi didn’t choose. She decided to pursue both. She had completed her high school years with a fine academic standing and was accepted into three medical schools and auditioned and was accepted into music conservatory. Soon she was spending every minute either at school or studying or practicing. After two quarters of this killer pace, she was tired and confused. She felt she was not giving either school her best. When she asked friends and relatives what she should do, the answers were of little help. Some said, “Oh, if you have the possibility of going to medical school, you must do that.” Others said, “Oh, you are so talented in music. Of course, you must do that.” Heidi was very confused.
Heidi had been taught by her mother, Karin, and her grandmother how to search out the guides in her life. She had learned in church that she had an eternal friend who will always listen. She turned to Heavenly Father in prayer. She also asked for and received a blessing from her home teacher. The blessing said that she had her agency and that she should pray about her decision. As she prayed, her answer became more clear. She should devote herself to music. Her fears about not being skilled enough lessened.
She turned to her patriarchal blessing, which encourages her to develop her musical talent. She had started with the violin at age seven even though she had been begging to start much earlier. Then her instructor suggested she change to the viola because the warm, somber tones of that instrument complimented her technique and temperament. And Heidi found she preferred the beautiful tone. Now she has chosen her course and is devoting her schooling to music.

When Ian woke up, he heard his mother singing. It was “I Feel My Savior’s Love.” That was Ian’s favorite Primary song! He started singing along with her.
“You’re awake!” she said. She was smiling and had tears in her eyes. Ian saw his dad sitting next to her. He looked happy too.
“I’ve been singing your favorite songs to you every day,” Mom said.
Ian smiled back—but his head hurt. Actually, his whole body hurt, especially his leg.
He carefully looked around. He wasn’t at home. He was lying on a metal bed in a strange room. Then he saw a nurse and lots of other beds nearby. “This must be a hospital,” he thought.
“What happened to me?” he asked.
Mom’s face turned sad. “You were in a bad accident. A metal gate fell on you. You’ve been in the hospital for two weeks, but you are going to be OK.”
Two weeks! “Wow, that’s a long time to be asleep,” Ian thought. The last thing he could remember was being at the church building, practicing for the Primary program …
Oh no! The program!
“Did I miss the Primary program?” Ian asked. He had been looking forward to it for so long! He loved singing with his friends.
Mom smiled and shook her head. “No, you didn’t miss it. The ward decided to postpone it until you woke up so you could be part of it.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Dad said. “All the Primary kids asked the bishop to wait. They wanted you to be there. They knew how excited you were for it this year.”
Ian was happy he could still be in the Primary program. But he had to get better first. And that took a long time. He had to stay in the hospital for a while longer. When he finally got to come home, he still couldn’t walk or play.
But his friends got to come visit him. Ian would ask them about school and church. And they would ask him when he was coming back.
“Not until my leg is better,” he would tell them. “I still can’t walk.”
October turned into November, and Ian slowly got better. One day his friends invited him to come over and watch a movie with them. Ian’s mom and dad helped get him there.
“Does your leg still hurt?” his friend Chaís asked him.
“Yes,” Ian said. “But it’s getting better every day.”
“Can you walk yet?” Chaís asked.
“I don’t know,” Ian said.
“Here, let’s try,” Chaís said. She helped him stand up. Carefully, Ian put his foot down. He moved his body forward. He was still standing! It was his first step in over a month! Everyone clapped.
“This means you can come back to church!” Chaís said.
And she was right. In a few more weeks, Ian’s leg finally stopped hurting. The doctors took the cast off his leg and put on a brace instead. When Sunday came, it was time for the Primary program.
During sacrament meeting, Ian walked to the front of the chapel with his friends. He stood up straight and smiled at his mom and dad. During the songs, he sang as loud as he could. When it was his turn, he stood at the microphone and shared his testimony. He was grateful for his Primary friends. And he was glad he could be part of the Primary program after all.

Having a class with 3 American and 18 British students often gives rise to moments of humour, one occasion being the study of Unit 4, Booklet 3, on dating. Some of the ideas suggested for dates caused much laughter and needed explanations from Todd, Chad, and Gwen. Ideas such as “pull taffy,” “Icee race with straws,” “pumpkin caroling,” “have a hayride and hootenanny,” and “tubing down a stream” all needed defining. The students weren’t too sure whether the counsel to “wash all the dogs in the neighbourhood” was recommended with or without the owners’ permission.

In addition to this Church work, Joseph Fielding Smith diligently assumed the responsibilities of husband and father. In April 1898, when he was twenty-two years old, he married Louie Emyla Shurtliff. After being married for only a year, he was ordained a seventy by his father on 12 May 1899, and left the next day for the mission field. Surely, making such a personal sacrifice was no easier for Elder Smith to do then than it would be for us to do now. He accepted his call, labored in the Nottingham Conference for two years, and returned home in June 1901.

I recently stood in a house of the Lord with a worthy couple there to receive blessings by covenant. I invited them to make their first honeymoon last 50 years, then after 50 years to begin their second honeymoon.
I found myself looking with this beautiful couple into the temple mirrors—one mirror on this side, one mirror on that side. Together the temple mirrors reflect back and forth images that stretch seemingly into eternity.
Temple mirrors of eternity remind us that each human being has “divine nature and destiny”; that “sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples make it possible for individuals to return to the presence of God and for families to be united eternally”;4 and that, growing together in love and faithfulness, we can give children roots and wings.
In temple mirrors of eternity, I reflected on First Dragon Gong, born A.D. 837 (late Tang dynasty) in southern China and the succeeding Gong family generations to my father, our family’s 32nd recorded generation. My brother, sister, and I are in our family’s 33rd generation; my sons and their cousins, the 34th generation; our grandson, the 35th recorded Gong family generation. In temple mirrors of eternity, I could not see a beginning or end of generations.
I then imagined not only a succession of generations but also a succession of family relationships. In one direction I saw myself as son, grandson, great-grandson, back to First Dragon Gong. In the mirrors in the other direction, I saw myself as father, grandfather, great-grandfather. I could see my wife, Susan, as daughter, granddaughter, great-granddaughter and, in the other direction, as mother, grandmother, great-grandmother.
In temple mirrors of eternity, I began to understand my wife and myself as children of our parents and parents to our children, as grandchildren of our grandparents and grandparents to our grandchildren. Mortality’s great lessons distill upon our souls as we learn and teach in eternal roles, including child and parent, parent and child.

Recently I learned of a fearless young Laurel. She was invited to participate in a statewide competition for her high school on the same evening she had committed to participate in a stake Relief Society meeting. When she realized the conflict and explained to competition officials that she would need to leave the competition early to attend an important meeting, she was told she would be disqualified if she did so.
What did this latter-day Laurel do? She kept her commitment to participate in the Relief Society meeting. As promised, she was disqualified from the statewide competition. When asked about her decision, she replied simply, “Well, the Church is more important, isn’t it?”

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s will never be the same again once you have celebrated them while serving a mission. Imagine a small Christmas tree with a few decorations, Christmas carols, a humble apartment, never more in love with your wife—a Christmas spirit that makes that little apartment seem as a sacred temple. You pack your white baptismal clothing and walk, hand in hand, to the chapel, where a little family waits patiently to enter God’s kingdom through the waters of baptism. You see the star of wonder, not hanging over Bethlehem, but in the eyes of the humble, sweet converts. You look at your wife; she looks at you; nothing need or can be said, both of you overcome with joy.

John Taylor was also chosen early in life, and although he was a full ocean apart from the other Church leaders, the Lord was quietly working on him in such a way that he would eventually be brought into contact with the other apostles of the Church. When he was only sixteen years of age, John Taylor was moved upon in such a way that he spent many hours searching after the Lord, and the nearness of the Lord was often manifest to him. He wrote: “Often when alone, and sometimes in company, I heard sweet, soft, melodious music, as if performed by angelic or supernatural beings.” He saw, while still a small boy, an angel in the heavens with a trumpet to its mouth, sounding a message to the nations. (The significance of this vision should be evident to all members of the Church.) At seventeen he became a local preacher in the Methodist Church and one day, while traveling with a friend to a Methodist meeting, received a very strong impression that he was to go to America to preach. Nearly seven years later at age twenty-four, President Taylor embraced the Church at the hands of Parley P. Pratt, who had been called by special revelation to take the gospel to Toronto, Canada, where John Taylor was residing.