Gospel Story Finder

Scottie’s Everything Box was special! Inside were many exciting things—useful things, pretty things, things Scottie found all around the neighborhood.
One morning as Scottie skipped down the sidewalk, he saw something sparkle by the edge of the road. He stooped over and picked up a bottle opener! Scottie didn’t have a bottle opener in his Everything Box. This one was only a little bit rusty, so he put it in his pocket.
Just as Scottie started skipping down the sidewalk again, a gust of wind blew some dry leaves across his path.
What’s that tumbling in the leaves, he wondered. It’s not red and yellow like the other leaves.
He bent down to catch whatever it was in his cupped hands. It was a blue feather. Scottie stroked his cheek with the feather. It felt soft and even tickled a little!
Scottie didn’t have a feather in his Everything Box, so he carefully put it in his pocket.
As Scottie skipped on down the sidewalk, he smiled as he thought of the bottle opener and feather he could add to his Everything Box.
The wind blew a pine cone off a tree. Scottie picked up the cone and smelled it. It reminded him of Christmas. He liked the prickly way the cone felt against his upper lip.
Scottie didn’t have a pine cone in his Everything Box, so he carefully put it in his pocket.
Scottie began to skip a little faster down the walk, wondering what he’d find next.
Soon he saw Mr. Anderson walking toward him. Just then the wind blew Mr. Anderson’s hat right off his head. It rolled along on its rim like a wheel. Scottie hurried to catch it.
“Here’s your hat, Mr. Anderson,” he said.
“Thank you, Scottie. And where are you going on this windy day?” Mr. Anderson asked.
“I’m looking for things to put in my Everything Box,” Scottie answered.
“I’ve never heard of an Everything Box before. Tell me about it,” said Mr. Anderson.
“Well, it’s a box of things I collect,” Scottie answered. “My dad collects stamps and I collect things.”
Mr. Anderson smiled. He reached in his pocket and took out a ballpoint pen.
“How would you like this pen?” he asked. “Let me show you how it works.”
Mr. Anderson turned the screw at the bottom of the pen and a black tip came out. He turned the screw again. The black tip disappeared and a green tip came out. When he turned it a third time, a red tip appeared.
“Wow!” Scottie exclaimed. “Three colors in one pen. Thanks a lot.”
Scottie had never seen a pen like that before. He slipped it into his pocket and started home.
The wind was getting colder and it was beginning to snow. The flakes quickly disappeared as they touched his tongue.
Scottie laughed. Here was something he couldn’t put in his pocket and take home for his Everything Box.
“Hi, Mom,” he called as he ran in the house. “Guess what I found today—a bottle opener, a feather, and a pine cone. And Mr. Anderson gave me a very special ball-point pen.”
Scottie stopped to catch his breath. He had been lucky to find so many new treasures for his Everything Box.
Scottie thought about the fun he’d had collecting things for his own very special Everything Box, but it was even more exciting to think about snowflakes and all the other things the world had in its Everything Box—wonderful things just waiting for Scottie to discover.

This story happened in Indonesia.
“Aminah, that’s mine!” Indira shouted. She grabbed the doll away from her little sister.
“Girls, I’m leaving,” Mom called. “Please be good for Dad.”
Indira looked up. “Where are you going?”
“To the market. I’m buying food to cook something special tomorrow.” Mom waved goodbye.
A special meal? But why? Indira went to find Dad. “Why is tomorrow special?” she asked.
Dad smiled. “Tomorrow we get to watch general conference! It’s special because we get to hear the prophet and other Church leaders speak. They’ll tell us what Heavenly Father wants us to hear.”
When Mom got home, she put away the food. Dad swept the floor.
“Indira, can you help Aminah set out her clothes for tomorrow?” Mom asked.
Indira frowned. “Why do I have to help her?”
“Please do what I ask,” Mom said.
Indira groaned. She dragged her feet and went to help Aminah.
The next morning, Indira woke up to a yummy smell. She jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen. Mom had made beef rendang and satay to eat for lunch later! It would taste so good.
Soon general conference began. Indira sat with her family to watch on the TV. She listened to the choir sing. She heard people talk about temples and scriptures and Jesus Christ.
The last speaker was the prophet, President Russell M. Nelson. He talked about how the Church helps people around the world.
“Our greatest joy comes as we help our brothers and sisters,” he said.
Indira thought about that. Did helping make her happy? She kept listening. President Nelson said that living the second great commandment can help us be like Jesus Christ.
When it was over, they ate the lunch Mom made. Indira kept thinking about the prophet’s talk.
“What is the second great commandment?” she asked.
“Love your neighbor as yourself,” Dad said.
Indira thought about the people the Church helped all over the world. “How can I help if my neighbors live far away?”
“Your neighbors are everyone around you,” Mom said. “Like your family members.”
Indira looked down. She was not very nice to her family sometimes.
But maybe helping them could make her happy, like President Nelson said. It was one way she could follow Jesus. She wanted to try!
For the rest of the week, Indira tried to be extra nice to her family. She played with Amirah. She shared her toys. She did what Mom and Dad asked without complaining. When Indira helped her family, they were happy. And that made her happy too.
The prophet was right. Helping others brought her joy!
What did Indira learn from the prophet?
Illustrations by Judi Abbot

A big thank you to the New Era for the article “Your Life Can Never Be the Same Again” (July 1998). I’m a new member of the Church, and I feel happy any time I read the magazine. When I read this article, tears began to roll out of my eyes because I know that Jesus is our Savior and this is His church. Thank you again for that article.
Llwem Efiok NyongLlyo, Nigeria

My assignment with the Young Women presidency puts me in many happy situations. One month ago a training assignment took me to Guayaquil, Ecuador. I arrived at the hotel after dark. The next morning I opened my curtains, and there across the valley was a beautiful granite building standing majestically on the Santa Ana Hills. Its stunning beauty was evident, but it wasn’t until I saw the angel Moroni on top that I, with tears in my eyes, realized that here was a temple, a symbol of the glorious blessings that will come to the members of the Church in that part of the world.

While holding a sign for a car wash fundraiser for my high school band, I was hit by a car going over 60 miles per hour (96 kph). I was rushed to the hospital. All three bones in my arm were broken, and I had to have metal plates and screws put in my arm. I have three long scars on my arm, small ones on my elbow and shin, and another long one over my knee.
The first day I went to therapy to help recover my damaged nerves, the therapist told me that when I got older I would be able to get tattoos to cover my scars. My mom and dad both said, “You don’t know James very well.” I told her that tattoos were against my standards and that I wouldn’t want one anyway.
I know my body is a gift from God, and I am not supposed to mark it up. I am grateful that I have been taught that my body is a special gift and that I do not need to put tattoos on it. I know the scars aren’t pretty right now, but they will fade. For now, they are a reminder to me that God watches out for me.

In Kentucky, in the southern United States, it gets hot and muggy during the summer. One day people noticed that green mold was growing on the fence around the Louisville Kentucky Temple. And not just a little—there was a lot!
So the Primary children of the Crestwood Second Ward in the Louisville Kentucky Stake decided to do something about it. One warm June day they had an activity. “We took rags and buckets of water and soap to clean the fence and help keep our Heavenly Father’s house clean,” said Sara M., age 10. She got soaked, but “it was fun because all our friends were there.”
Josh H., age 9, said he got a little tired cleaning the high parts of the fence. But he had lots of help. In fact, almost all of the Primary children came, about 75 in all. Many brought their brothers and sisters and moms and dads to help.
The children knew they were on the temple grounds, so they tried to be reverent. And no one complained about the hard work. “We had to scrub really hard because the stains had been there for a while,” said Megan H., age 6. But it was worth it. “I knew we were taking care of our Heavenly Father’s home.”
Sara felt the same way. “I really felt the Spirit because I knew Heavenly Father was happy we were doing that,” she said.
After the work was done, the group gathered at the Church building next door to eat hot dogs and to talk about what they learned.
The Primary children can’t wait until they can go in the temple themselves to do baptisms for the dead. But for now, they are happy knowing they helped the outside look beautiful—just like Heavenly Father’s house should.

After taking all the missionary lessons, I’d spent the previous two weeks asking questions, pondering, and learning. I read the entire Book of Mormon and spent time praying.
Every time the elders asked me if I would commit to live by what I was being taught, I answered, “Yes, if I find out the Church is true.” Originally, I said this without much intent, but slowly as I learned, thought, and prayed about the Church, I became much more sincere in both desire and effort.
However, just deciding I wanted to know wasn’t enough to suddenly bring the answer I sought. As the hours and days went by, I started to get frustrated. There was a promise right there in the Book of Mormon: “Ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, [and] he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moroni 10:4). Yet that confirmation still eluded me. Maybe in the beginning I hadn’t prayed with real intent, but that changed along the way. I was sincerely searching. Why was I still not able to receive this witness?
The elders were also praying for a way to help me recognize the Spirit. When I told them about my struggles to receive an answer, one elder, led by inspiration, asked me if maybe I had already gotten an answer and had simply overlooked it—that revelation sometimes comes in quiet answers. That advice impacted me profoundly. It caused me to really reflect upon my intentions.
The Spirit whispered to me, asking me specifically why I wanted to know if the Church was true.
This inspiration formed the basis of my prayer the next day. I shared with Heavenly Father that I desired to know if the Savior really had restored the gospel through Joseph Smith. If it was true, I was willing to be baptized and spend the rest of my life trying to be the most faithful member I could be. I also shared the concern that this would be a huge change for me—and I worried about being the only Church member in my family. I feared that if my testimony wasn’t built on a strong enough foundation, I would talk myself out of it when things got challenging. I acknowledged that He might have already answered me, and I was sorry if I’d missed it. I pleaded for another chance, repented for taking the search lightly in the beginning, and shared again my willingness to spend my life in His service if it was true.
The idea came to write down all my thoughts, feelings, and experiences while learning about the gospel. I momentarily hesitated, wavering between the desire to know and the desire not to know. Fortunately, my determination won out over complacency, and I wrote the idea at the top of a yellow pad.
First, I wrote down the way I felt when I was taking the missionary lessons and my thoughts as I pondered what I learned. I remembered that I’d felt prompted to read certain scriptures that answered specific questions.
As I wrote these things down, I noticed that my frame of reference started to change. I wasn’t just remembering things from the past two weeks but from my whole life. An amazing picture of the Lord teaching and preparing me to accept the gospel over the years started to emerge. Excited, I wrote down the last few things. There were 31 in all.
As I read the list, tears came to my eyes and gratitude filled my soul. I realized I held in my hand my very own testimony of the restored gospel. It was the answer I’d been praying for. Not a grand sign or even something purely new to learn, but instead a list of the times His hand had been evident in my life and that the Spirit had touched my heart.
In a way, that missionary had been right about overlooking a quiet answer—I had simply needed to recognize the many promptings I’d received throughout my whole life.
I have pondered those few weeks, especially that day I made the list, many times in the past 20 years. I have often wondered why I was blessed to be not only introduced to the gospel but also led, guided, and prepared to accept it. That quiet answer impacted my life in ways I couldn’t have imagined during those searching days. I will be eternally grateful to Heavenly Father for the angel He sent in the form of a missionary to teach me not just His words but also how to listen to His voice.
I have tried my best to always hearken to that voice and live up to the promise that I made to Heavenly Father all those years ago. He gave me an answer I couldn’t talk myself out of, and after all this time, I wouldn’t want to.

As a deacon, Thomas S. Monson feels blessed when he takes the sacrament to an ill man.

This feature is very helpful for the missionary work. When the missionaries begin tracting a neighborhood, everyone knows they are there. When one family begins taking the discussions, the neighbors become curious. One girl said she became interested in the Church after passing by her neighbor’s window a number of times and seeing them study the Book of Mormon. She just had to find out what they were reading.

Brigham Young again and again demonstrated to the Prophet not only tenacious loyalty but the courage and competence and spiritual power to succeed in increasingly difficult crises and assignments—not only to succeed by some general human standard of success but to measure up to Joseph Smith’s prophetic vision: He got the Saints out of Missouri by putting the Church leaders, and then the people, under covenant that no one would go unless all, no matter how poor or weak, could go also and by returning many times himself to bring others out.16 He returned to Far West with the Twelve, in mortal danger after Governor Boggs’ “Extermination Order” had gone into effect, to fulfill to the letter Joseph’s earlier revelation requiring them to take leave from the Saints at the Temple site for their mission to England. And he led the apostles in England to a degree of success that fulfilled the Prophet’s high expectations.

My life was changed by a saintly patriarch. He married his sweetheart. They were deeply in love, and soon she was expecting their first child.
The night the baby was born, there were complications. The only doctor was somewhere in the countryside tending to the sick. After many hours of labor, the condition of the mother-to-be became desperate. Finally, the doctor was located. In the emergency, he acted quickly and soon the baby was born, and the crisis, it appeared, was over. But some days later, the young mother died from the very infection that the doctor had been treating at another home that night.
The young man’s world was shattered. As the weeks wore on, his grief festered. He thought of little else, and in his bitterness he became threatening. Today, no doubt, he would have been pressed to file a malpractice suit, as though money would solve anything.
One night a knock came at his door. A little girl said simply, “Daddy wants you to come over. He wants to talk to you.”
“Daddy” was the stake president. The counsel from that wise leader was simply “John, leave it alone. Nothing you do about it will bring her back. Anything you do will make it worse. John, leave it alone.”
This had been my friend’s trial. How could he leave it alone? A terrible wrong had been committed. He struggled to get hold of himself and finally determined that he should be obedient and follow the counsel of that wise stake president. He would leave it alone.
He said, “I was an old man before I understood and could finally see a poor country doctor—overworked, underpaid, run ragged from patient to patient, with little medicine, no hospital, few instruments, struggling to save lives, and succeeding for the most part. He had come in a moment of crisis, when two lives hung in the balance, and had acted without delay. I finally understood!” He said, “I would have ruined my life and the lives of others.”
Many times he had thanked the Lord on his knees for a wise priesthood leader who counseled simply, “John, leave it alone.”

Elder Boyd K. Packer: “I bear witness that the Book of Mormon is true—that it is another testament of Jesus Christ. I have read the Book of Mormon with a sincere heart, with intent, as a humble serviceman, and thereafter pled with the Lord. I received that revelation” (General Conference, April 1986).

In this day of mechanical marvels my mind harkens back to the days of my childhood. I suppose that is natural enough for those upon whom age descends.
I remember well the old one-room rock meetinghouse of the Second Ward on Seventh South between Fourth and Fifth East in Salt Lake City. This particular ward was one of the gathering places for members from Denmark. The bishop, Heber C. Iverson, could speak their language. In fast day meetings, testimonies were often unintelligible to me as the Saints struggled to testify in English, their new tongue. In Sunday School the room was divided into classrooms by green curtains hanging from wires overhead. If I was not interested in what my teacher was saying, I could choose from five other classes, all of which I could hear. It was always interesting to try to solve the problem of the identity of the boy who kept poking me in the back through the curtain at my rear.

Last October my mom told my siblings and me to listen to ward business that Sunday instead of drawing. So when sacrament meeting started, I paid close attention to the opening prayer and the hymn. Once that was over, the person conducting the meeting asked the bishop to stand up. Then he said the bishop was being released.
He asked my dad, who was first counselor at the time, to stand up. Then he announced that my dad was going to be the new bishop!
I was really worried that something about my dad would change drastically. I had always thought bishops were people who were formal and serious, most unlike my dad. That they had perfectly well-behaved kids who sat quietly on the bench every week. That was not my family.
But I realized that bishops aren’t men with perfect families. They aren’t men who are solemn and serious. They are men with the priesthood. Men with strong, good testimonies.
I don’t know why the Lord chose my dad to be the bishop, but I know that He has His reasons. And I know that my dad did change … but not into a stiff and serious man I didn’t know. I could tell his testimony grew.
And so did mine.

A true story from the USA.
“Let’s go!” shouted Lauren as she passed the driveway.
Marcie put on her helmet. “I’m coming!”
Marcie pedaled her bike down the sidewalk toward her friends. She loved to play all kinds of games with Lauren and Cassidy. But most of all, she loved riding her bike with them.
As the girls biked down the sidewalk, the neighbor’s dog, Rocket, started following them.
“Oh no,” Cassidy said. “We need to take him back home!”
But the dog didn’t want to go home. They called for him to stop, but Rocket just kept going. No matter what they did, he ran around and wagged his tail. He was having fun!
As the girls followed Rocket, Marcie realized that the houses looked less and less familiar. She was getting farther and farther from her street. Marcie didn’t know anyone who lived in these houses!
Where are we going? Marcie thought. Will I be able to find my way back?
Marcie tried not to worry and kept biking. But the feeling came back. Something was telling her that she should go home.
Marcie stopped her bike on the sidewalk. She said in a loud voice, “Maybe we should go back now!”
“We need to get Rocket home!” said Cassidy. She and Lauren kept biking after the dog.
Marcie still felt strange. Why was she feeling so worried? Did her friends feel it too?
Maybe this feeling is just for me, Marcie thought. Was it from the Holy Ghost? She had been baptized and confirmed a few months ago, and Mom and Dad had taught her about listening to the Holy Ghost. They said He would speak to her with feelings in her heart or thoughts in her mind. She knew He would guide her if she listened.
She felt the feeling again. This time it was stronger. Don’t follow that dog.s
“I’m going back,” Marcie called to her friends.
“OK!” Lauren said.
Marcie turned around and rode back the way she came. When she got home, she left her bike on the lawn and went inside. Mom was busy in the kitchen.
“Hi, Mom,” Marcie said. “I came home. I felt worried inside.”
Mom stopped. “What happened?”
“I felt a warning feeling while I was riding my bike with my friends. So I came home,” Marcie said. “I think it was the Holy Ghost.”
Mom gave her a hug. “I’m glad you listened to that feeling.”
Marcie felt good inside. “Me too.”

Let me cite just one example of that preparation which started many years ago, when President Kimball was the age of many of you sitting within the sound of my voice tonight. When he was fourteen years old, a Church leader visited a conference of the stake over which his father presided and told the congregation that they should read the scriptures.
President Kimball, in recalling that experience, said: “I recognized that I had never read the Bible, [so] that very night at the conclusion of that very sermon I walked to my home a block away and climbed up in my little attic room in the top of the house and lighted a little coal-oil lamp that was on the little table, and I read the first chapters of Genesis. A year later I closed the Bible, having read every chapter in that big and glorious book. … It was formidable, but I knew if others did it that I could do it.
“I found,” said President Kimball, “that there were certain parts that were hard for a 14-year-old boy to understand. There were some pages that were not especially interesting to me, but when I had read the 66 books and the 1,189 chapters and 1,519 pages, I had a glowing satisfaction that I had made a goal and that I had achieved it.
“Now I am not telling you this story to boast,” President Kimball concludes, “I am merely using this as an example to say that if I could do it by coal-oil light, you can do it by electric light. I have always been glad I read the Bible from cover to cover.” (Ensign, May 1974, p. 88.) In this and a thousand other ways, young Spencer Woolley Kimball silently and efficiently prepared, never dreaming of what lay ahead.

New Year’s Eve at Ramón’s houseHappy New Year!Happy New Millennium!
Sleepy, mi hijo (my son)?No, just disappointed. I thought the new millennium was going to feel different, but nothing’s changed.
I know what you mean. The reason is here in the scrapbook you were showing Tía Ynez. Do these photos look familiar?Of course. They’re from my baptism.
Did you feel any different after being baptized and confirmed?Well, yes—I felt clean and warm and good.
That’s because you really had changed. Your sins were forgiven, and you had the companionship of the Holy Ghost. In a way you were a whole new person. A new millennium just changes the calendar, but your baptism changed you.
Wow! My baptism was better than a once-in-a-thousand-years experience!

When our young daughter was practicing the piano, I suggested she play her piece over five more times to be prepared for her lesson.
She said, “No, Mom. Five is too many.”
I said, “Then you choose how many times you need.”
She said, “No. You choose—but don’t choose five!”

Illustration by Stan Fellows
When I got married, I began to diligently store food. My husband and I wanted to accumulate a large supply, but we couldn’t afford to buy it all at once, so we decided we would buy something extra every week. We looked for special offers on the things we bought regularly, especially canned foods.
I loved looking in my cupboard to see my little pile of canned and dried foodstuffs gradually growing bigger. Once we made the mistake of buying canned cheese, which was revolting, but my husband steeled himself and ate a can each week until it was gone. After we had a decent amount of food storage, we began to eat from it, resolving to replace each item eaten with two more items.
Soon our cupboard became quite full, so we bought storage items for our dog and cats. We also began to store herbs and spices, vacuum-packed wheat, water and soft drinks, and anything we used daily that wasn’t food, like soap, deodorant, and detergent.
Then we bought a house, and just before we signed on the dotted line, mortgage rates increased drastically. We had to live on our food storage for almost a year to avoid losing our home.
Food storage is just a part of general housekeeping now. We use it and are blessed by it every day. I am so grateful that we listened to the inspired counsel from the Lord’s prophets because it means that now I can look around in gratitude at my warm and cozy home.

“Because a temple is sacred, the Lord asks that it be protected from desecration. Anyone may enter who is willing to prepare well for that privilege. The concept of preparation prevails in other fields of endeavor. I remember when I was but a young boy, I told my parents I wanted to attend the university. They said I could, but only if I worked hard in preliminary schooling and met all the requirements for admission to the university. Similarly, we must qualify for admission to the temple. We prepare physically, intellectually, and spiritually.”Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “Prepare for Blessings of the Temple,” Ensign, Mar. 2002, 18–19.