Gospel Story Finder

When I play with a friend and he wants to go first,
And he went first yesterday—
Or he tells me I have to go home or find somewhere else to play—
And I feel like crying or hitting him, or yelling angrily,
I tell myself that nobody can make me mad
But me.

In 1946 Henry was enjoying his success and work at Princeton. He had won numerous honorary doctorates and most major awards in chemistry. Given his diligent scientific work with world-renowned scientists, he had an excellent opportunity to be considered for a Nobel Prize.
At about this time Henry received a call from A. Ray Olpin, president of the University of Utah, inviting him to be the dean of the graduate school there and continue his research in chemistry. His wife, Mildred, left the decision up to Henry, but she reminded him of a promise he had made to her years earlier. Henry had promised to move his family closer to Church headquarters when the boys got older. When Henry turned down the offer, Mildred, who had grown up in Utah, asked him to pray about his decision and gave him a letter to read when he arrived at his laboratory.
Upon reading the letter, in which Mildred expressed her disappointment, and after praying and pondering, Henry called President Olpin, saying he would accept the position after all to build up the university’s science department. His apparent sacrifice in leaving Princeton turned out to be a blessing for him and his family. One such blessing was Hal’s willingness to follow his father’s example when he faced a similar crossroads years later.

Manassas Virginia Stake
They came with square pillows and round pillows, plaid pillows, flowered pillows, and frilly pillows.
But it wasn’t a giant slumber party. Women throughout the stake sewed special pillows for the 175 young women who would attend girls’ camp as a visual reminder that “someone in their stake family loves them.” Accompanying each pillow was a personal letter from the pillow’s creator.
Rebecca Patten keeps her letter in a special book where she saves all of her spiritually uplifting things. “My letter was so perfect for me. It was all about something I needed to hear. I loved the pillow, but when I read the letter it made the pillow all the more special,” she said.
Later, the young women met with the women of the stake who wrote the letters and made the pillows. As they headed home after the reunion, they realized that not only did they have families that love them but people throughout the stake family loved them too. It was a nice thought to sleep on.

A wise first step is to guide each deacon to a spiritual awareness of the sacredness of his ordained calling. In one ward, this lesson was effectively taught pertaining to the collection of fast offerings.

On fast day the ward members were visited by deacons and teachers so that each family could make a contribution. The deacons were a bit disgruntled, having to arise earlier than usual to fulfill this assignment.

The inspiration came for the bishopric to take a busload of the deacons and teachers to Welfare Square here in Salt Lake City. Here they saw needy children receiving new shoes and other items of clothing. Here they witnessed empty baskets being filled with groceries. There was no money exchanged. One brief comment was made: “Young men, this is what the money you collect on fast day provides—even food, clothing, and shelter.” The Aaronic Priesthood young men smiled more, stepped higher, and served with a willing mind in the filling of their assignments.

Suddenly, we find the summer is nearly gone, and all too fast Labor Day is here. The family gathers for one last fire of the season. The activities are the same as always, but our feelings are different. Each ritual is cherished and lengthened because it is the last one of the season. The children are allowed to stay out just a little longer.
As the night draws to a close, we all gather around the fire for the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Grandpa stands up and, with eager shouts of encouragement from the children, tosses this season’s straw cowboy hat into the fire. It is quiet as we watch the hat slowly curl up and disappear, knowing it is the end of summer, and it will be many more months until the next bonfire. We all stand quietly, reflecting on the summer and feeling that we are the luckiest people alive. We all appreciate our grandfather for making it possible for us to have these times together.
The last embers flicker out, and all that is left is a thin curling wisp of smoke that follows us as we reluctantly file into the house.

Sonora Dodd devoted her life to honoring fathers, and her strong feelings about fatherhood were passed to her son, Jack. In 1952 one of Sonora Dodd’s proudest moments came when Jack was named “Father of the Year.” Nineteen years later, an even prouder moment came. Sonora Louise Dodd, the woman known as “the mother of Father’s Day,” became the first and only woman ever to be named “Father of the Year!”

When Leah woke up that morning, she looked out the window. She smiled because everything was covered with snow. She dressed for school quickly and rushed down to the warm kitchen. “Mom,” she said happily, “did you look outside?”
Her mother smiled and nodded. “Yes, I did, honey. Isn’t the snow pretty?”
“When I get home from school, can I play in it?” Leah asked hopefully.
“Yes, you may. But you’d better hurry and eat your pancakes now, or you’ll be late for school.”
“Mom!” Tim called from the basement. “Where are our winter boots?”
“Under the stairs,” Mother called back. “In the tall cabinet.”
Leah’s older sister, Carol, wrapped a scarf around her neck. “I found my boots. See you later, Mom,” she said as she gave Mother a kiss. Then she patted Leah’s head and added, “Have a good day, Pumpkin.”
Soon Tim left for school too.
“I wish I could stay home and play in the snow,” Leah said.
“That would be nice,” Mother agreed, “but today is a school day.”
Leah nodded and popped the last piece of pancake into her mouth. “That was good! Thank you.”
Mother smiled. “Thank you, honey, for enjoying it. Now hurry and get ready.”
Leah went to the closet and took out her coat and hat. She wrapped a scarf around her neck and pushed her arms into the sleeves of her coat. Then she went downstairs to the tall cabinet beneath the stairs. She opened the door and looked for her boots. There they were, white and clean, waiting to tramp in the snow. Leah liked them a lot. She sat down and pointed the toe of her shoe into the opening of one of the boots. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her boot over her shoe.
“Mom,” she finally called up the stairs, “I can’t get my boots on.”
Mother went down the stairs. “Oh, dear,” she said. “Don’t tell me they no longer fit.” Mother knelt in front of Leah and put a boot beside Leah’s shoe. “They look like they might barely fit.” Mother tugged and pushed, but the boots would not go over Leah’s shoes. “Well,” Mother said as she looked in the cupboard. “Let me see … Yes, here’s a pair of Carol’s old boots. Let’s see if they fit.”
Leah tried on one of the boots, and it slipped on without any trouble. “They fit, with room left over.” Leah giggled.
Mother laughed too. “Not too much room, though. I’m glad you can get into them. They’ll keep your shoes nice and dry.”
All the way to school Leah watched the tracks the boots made. The bottoms made squiggily lines like snow tires. Leah was glad that her sister’s boots fit her.
When recess came, Miss Higgins asked, “How many of you would like to go outside and play in the snow?”
Everyone raised his hand and cheered.
“All right,” Miss Higgins said with a smile. “Bundle up and out we go.”
Leah pulled on her boots easily, and soon she was outside playing. Then Leah saw Melanie standing alone near the school building where the snow barely covered the ground. She wasn’t playing with the others because she wasn’t wearing boots.
When recess was over, everyone lined up at the door, waiting to go back inside. “Quietly now, class,” Miss Higgins said. “Shake the snow from your boots and walk quietly past the other classrooms.”
Leah looked at Melanie’s shoes. They looked like they were sopping wet, and Leah knew that Melanie’s socks were wet too. Leah looked at the footprint Melanie’s shoes made in the snow, then made a boot print beside it. Melanie’s shoe print was quite a bit smaller than the print from Carol’s old boot! Leah smiled to herself as she followed the line into the school.
After school Leah looked for Melanie.
“Melanie?” she called. “Do you want to walk in my boot tracks as far as my house?”
Melanie shivered and smiled. “Thanks, Leah,” she said happily.
“Don’t you have any boots?” Leah asked over her shoulder.
“My parents will probably get me some when they can.”
Leah nodded. “I have some white boots at home … I can’t wear them anymore. I think they’d fit you!”
Melanie hesitated. “Maybe your mother wouldn’t like me taking your boots.”
“She wouldn’t care,” Leah told her classmate. “I’m the youngest in the family, so I know she wouldn’t mind.”
Melanie smiled and shivered again. “Well, if she says that I can have them, that’d be great!” Melanie said, hurrying on as Leah turned up the walk to her house.
“Mom,” Leah called, “I’m home!”
Mother turned from the sewing machine and gave Leah a welcome-home hug. “How was school, honey?”
“We played in the snow at recess time and pasted pictures in our books this afternoon. It was fun.”
“That’s good,” Mother said.
“Mom,” Leah said quietly. “Melanie Harper doesn’t have any boots. Can I give her my old white ones? I think they’ll fit her.”
Leah’s mother looked at her for a long minute, then gave her a second hug. “Honey, it’s more than OK. It’s a very caring thing to do, and I’m proud of you. I know how much you liked your white boots.”
“Melanie will like them too. Do you think Heavenly Father would be happy if I give them to her?”
“Honey,” her mother replied, “Heavenly Father is always pleased when we help each other.”

Now we have a special treat. I would like to ask Brother David B. Haight to come to the pulpit. Here is a grand old warrior. He is 97 years of age. He has lived longer than any other Apostle in the history of this dispensation. He recently became ill and has had a little difficulty. But he wanted to come this morning and just wave to you with a feeling of gratitude and appreciation for you and the great love which he feels for you. And to him, dear friend, we say, God bless you and heal you. We love you, we sustain you, we pray for you. May heaven’s blessings rest upon you, dear Brother Haight. Thank you.
Elder Haight: Thank you.
President Hinckley: Do you want to wave to these people?
Elder Haight: Yes, I must. I am waving. Thank you, thank you. Nice to be with you.
President Hinckley: Thank you.
Elder Haight: Thank you.
President Hinckley: We will excuse him now. He will be watching on television. What a great soldier he has been in the army of the Lord. Thank you so much, Brother Haight.

Believe me when I tell you that I know how discouragement feels to young people. My native country, Holland, was occupied by Nazi Germany when I finished high school in 1942. At the time a new rule was established that you could only register for classes in the Dutch universities if you signed a so-called “declaration of loyalty” to the occupying German forces.
Needless to say, the majority of Dutch students simply refused to sign such a humiliating political document and stayed away from campuses, whether freshmen or graduate students.
There were only two alternatives for young men between 18 and 30 years of age: to leave home, change names, use a fake I.D. card, and go “underground” somewhere in the country or to run the very real risk of being arrested anywhere at any moment and being deported to Germany for slave labor in the war industry with the hundreds of thousands already there from other European nations.
My plans to go to a university were stifled. Everything I had been working towards for so long now was truly unattainable. It is an understatement for me to say that this was a great discouragement. But I overcame it and in doing so learned a great lesson by deciding that if you cannot reach one goal then attain another goal. Sure, I had my moments of self-pity; then I decided to look for other options.
By this time in my life I already had an interest in languages, and so I decided to spend my time studying German, French, and English. I studied on my own, in small peer groups, and listened in clandestine ways to foreign radio broadcasts. This is what I did from the time I was 19 until I turned 22. Learning languages was an attainable goal for me.
After the Allied forces landed in Holland, I joined the Canadian army as an interpreter and translator. My task was completed when the Canadians returned home.
Then the Dutch army sent me to the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia). This was another disappointment to me. My heart was not in the army, but I tried to make the best of it. I kept up on my languages and I learned the Malay language (now called Bahasa Indonesia).
When I finally became a free man in 1949, I felt like I had spent seven years on hold. But in the same time the Lord had been preparing me in a special way for his later service. I was also prepared for a good business career.

Church leaders have encouraged us multiple times to be engaged in family history work and have linked many blessings to our participation in this effort.6 However, most of my ancestors have already had their temple ordinances completed. So what more could I do? I could learn about the life of each person whose name I brought to the temple—really visualize them as an actual person and as a member of my family. I also started recording my own life history, indexing, and sharing inspiring stories from my family’s history.

Back in ancient times (there is reference made to this in the Bible) there was a group of people who had a very interesting way of punishing crime. If one committed a murder, for example, his punishment was that he should be chained to the body of his victim. That is, he would be chained to his sin. That might be all right for one night or in the morning, but what about three weeks later, or two years later? Wherever he went forevermore he must drag with him his crime.

During his father’s absence, Marion became so ill that few expected him to survive. At his mother’s request, priesthood holders gave him a blessing. When they promised that the baby would live to accomplish a great mission, his health immediately began to improve—and his mother taught him that he had been healed by the power of the Lord.

Mine has been the opportunity to meet many wonderful men and women in various parts of the world. A few of them have left an indelible impression upon me. I share with you a story I spoke of some years ago. I met a naval officer from a distant nation, a brilliant young man who had been brought to the United States for advanced training. Some of his associates in the United States Navy, whose behavior had attracted him, shared with him at his request their religious beliefs. He was not a Christian, but he was interested. They told him of the Savior of the world, of Jesus Christ born in Bethlehem, who gave his life for all mankind. They told him of the appearance of God, the Eternal Father, and the resurrected Lord to the boy Joseph Smith. They spoke of modern prophets. They taught him the gospel of the Master. The Spirit touched his heart, and he was baptized.
He was introduced to me just before he was to return to his native land. We spoke of these things, and then I said: “Your people are not Christians. What will happen when you return home a Christian, and, more particularly, a Mormon Christian?”
His face clouded, and he replied, “My family will be disappointed. They may cast me out and regard me as dead. As for my future and my career, all opportunity may be foreclosed against me.”
I asked, “Are you willing to pay so great a price for the gospel?”
His dark eyes, moistened by tears, shone from his handsome brown face as he answered, “It’s true, isn’t it?”
Ashamed at having asked the question, I responded, “Yes, it’s true.”
To which he replied, “Then what else matters?”
These are questions I should like to leave with you: “It’s true, isn’t it? Then what else really matters?”

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.

When there’s nothing to do,
Nothing at all
but stare at the wall,
What should I do?
Nothing to play—just a boring day.
Let’s see …
Climb a tree? Sail a boat?
Watch TV? Write a note?
Sing a tune and clean my room?
City of blocks? Puppet socks?
Pastels or paint … ?
Nothing to do—that’s my complaint!
Piles of toys,
all worn-out joys.
Crayons and clay—what a boring day!
Sew or cook? Read a book?
Build a plane or car?
Nothing to do—nothing so far.
There’s running and sunning,
Bikes and kites,
Bubbles, puzzles, and balls,
Oh, boy, am I blue—
nothing to do.
I know …
I’ll call my friend, and then
We’ll just get together
And do
Whatever!

I heard a missionary reporting his mission up in Oregon some years ago. He himself was a convert to the Church, and he came down with his fist on the pulpit and said he wouldn’t take a check for a million dollars for the experience of his mission, to go out and share with the world these marvelous truths.

“I was only able to attend one of the workshops,” said Donn Mason, “but it was great. It was Randy Bachman’s presentation on standards. He was more than what I expected. He’s a member of a popular singing group, you know, and when he came to the conference, I met him at the door and introduced myself. I asked him if he was ready and if there was anything we could help him with, and he said, ‘No, I just want a place where I can be alone to meditate and pray and get the direction I need for this workshop.’ Somehow I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, it was a real topper!”

“I attended Randy Bachman’s workshop too,” added Dwight Schmidt, a member of the central committee who had been inactive just seven months before. “The thing that really impressed me about him was that he is so spiritual. He talked about his career and some of the problems he’s had. He has had to go through a lot. The sacrifices that he has made for the gospel really taught me that if he can do it, I can do it.”

The next thing I wanted to do was go on a mission. One day my father questioned me asking if the Church I was attending was restored by Joseph Smith? I said “yes”.
He said “Ahh, that church is a cult. I’ve read some things about them. You must be very careful about that church.” I told him “OK, if that is the case, I will pray over it and find out for myself”.
One day I was sleeping, and I had this dream. There were two churches, and they were built across the street from each other. There was a fire burning and people were running all around. The two churches were there, and one was big and the other small. The bigger church had lots of people running into it and a few were running to the small one. The fire was coming, and it was burning the entire city. When the flame got to the two churches, the big church was consumed by the flame and the small church was not. I beheld that the small church had an inscription on it that said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints”.
I said, “Wow, this is wonderful”. I woke up from my dream and prayed and thanked Heavenly Father for answering my prayers because I thought I was lost, and the Church was somewhere I belonged. A place that would comfort me and where I could have a family. I told my father about it and that I had got an answer. He said, “OK, if you’ve gotten an answer, then you need to go on a mission”.

I knew President Uchtdorf when I was serving as Area President in Europe. From the moment I met him, I recognized in him a man of immense spiritual depth and tremendous capability. I knew the Lord was mindful of him. Twenty-three years ago, I had the honor of extending to him the Lord’s calling to serve as a stake president in Frankfurt, Germany. As I have watched over the years, I have noticed that everything under his direction has succeeded. The Lord is with him. When I think of President Uchtdorf, two words come to mind: Alles wohl—that’s German for “All is well.”

Shinnah strives to follow the Savior. “Before I joined the Church, I didn’t know who I was,” she says. “I was invited by friends to go to parties, and they were bad situations to be in. But now I choose not to go.”