Gospel Story Finder

My great-grandmother, Ursula Wise Derrick, was an unusual woman. According to our family record, she was born about 1779 at Keynsham, Somerset, England, a town just 12 kilometers from Bristol. She gave birth to 11 children. The last two were twins, Elizabeth and Zachariah. Elizabeth apparently died soon after birth.
When Zach was 14 years of age, he began to serve his apprenticeship as a mechanic at the Bristol Iron Works. He completed this apprenticeship as a man who casts metal.
This year was an important one for him. In addition to beginning his second apprenticeship, he married Mary Shephard. Soon after his marriage, his mother became seriously ill. Fearing death was near, she called Zach to her bedside and told him not to join himself seriously to any of the church organizations with which he was then familiar because none of them was the true church of Christ. She told him that when he heard of missionaries coming two by two, preaching in the halls and on street corners, teaching of a new prophet who had received revelation from God, he should join them, for their church would be the true church of God.
That same year of 1836, Ursula Wise Derrick died, one year before Heber C. Kimball and his missionary companions landed 320 kilometers north at Liverpool to bring the message of the Restoration to the British Isles. It was several years before the restored gospel was taught in Bristol.
She must have been a very spiritual woman to have received that information from a divine source. She died not having been baptized by one with the authority of God to do so. But the Savior said, “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God” (John 3:5). I’ve been searching the scriptures to find out what happened to my great-grandmother.

That decision brought another blessing to the Randrianarison family. There was a nine-day period when both Sedinirina and Randrianandry would be in the Johannesburg Missionary Training Center. Roger arranged to fly to South Africa with Arelina and their daughter, Nirina, so the entire family could be sealed in the temple. Nirina, who was 14 at the time, said it’s difficult to describe the experience and what she felt.
“It strengthened my faith and helped me feel closer to God,” she said.

Susanna has courage in other areas of her life, too. A good friend taught her to jump horses. The friend wanted Susanna to compete in jumping competitions that were held on Sunday, but Susanna told her friend she wouldn’t.

One of the biggest surprises of my life came as a young bishop when in that calling I first had access to the tithing rolls of my ward. It was a ward in which I had grown up. Many of the people had been my teachers; all were my friends. I had been taught by them; they were my heroes. I loved them and felt loved by them in turn. But it was a terrible shock to see many who stood on fast day and affirmed a strong and abiding faith in God and in his holy work upon the face of the earth, and then when it came to paying tithing their faith faltered.

When I was 17, I began taking philosophy classes in high school. One day the teacher said to the class, “Surely there isn’t anyone here who believes that Adam really existed!” Then he scanned the room with the look of an inquisitor, ready to pounce on whoever dared to admit to such belief. I was petrified! However, my desire to be loyal to my faith was even stronger. I glanced around to see that I was the only one of those 40 students to raise a hand. The teacher, taken by surprise, changed the subject.

Like many of you, I am frequently before those who are not of our faith, and the challenge is great and wonderful. Not long ago I was given a little honor before a great group of non-Latter-day Saint athletes. In the proceedings of the convention, one of my great idols, a Hall of Famer, was to take the rostrum and speak to us. Being the great athlete that he was, respected by many, I was shocked to hear his language as he repeatedly took the name of the Lord in vain. As I sat there, I wondered, “What do you do as a Latter-day Saint in these kinds of social situations?” And then I remembered—again, a great influence in my life—the counsel from a prophet and an experience that he had had one time coming out of surgery. An orderly who was wheeling the prophet back to his hospital room on a little metal cart caught his hand between the door and the cart in the elevator and, not thinking, let go with a few adjectives, taking the name of the Lord in vain in the process. And a prophet, sick as he was physically but very well spiritually, lifted his head and said, “Please don’t talk that way—that’s my best friend.”

I distinctly remember when the proclamation on the family was given: September 23, 1995. I was seated in the Tabernacle at the general Relief Society meeting. President Hinckley was the concluding speaker. He presented “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.” Stillness was in the congregation but also a sense of excitement, a reaction of “Yes—we need help with our families!”
I remember feeling it was so right. Tears ran down my cheeks. As I looked at the sisters seated near me, they seemed to be experiencing similar feelings. There was so much in the proclamation that I couldn’t wait to get a copy and study it. The proclamation affirms the dignity of women. And to think that it was first given to the women of the Church at the general Relief Society meeting—I know President Hinckley values women.

The family home evening wheels are just one of several service projects these young women have completed. In an effort to help a widow from the branch feel a little less lonely, the young women decorated a basket and filled it with lots of short, happy handwritten notes. “No one is there to take care of her,” Daisy says. “So we wanted to remind her that members of the branch are thinking about her.” The young women delivered the basket in person and explained that she could read a note each day to bring a smile to her face.

“In order to be admitted to the Taipei City Junior Business College (which, despite its name, is equivalent to a U.S. high school), I had to take an entrance exam. The number of people taking the exam amounted to 10,000. The number of people admitted to the school is just over 1,000. So you can see the competition is tough.”

But Mei Ling made it—on the second try. “Before I was admitted here, I was a student at Ta-lin Junior High School, which is known for its emphasis on music. After I graduated from that school I took an entrance exam for the junior business college and failed. So I went to a tutoring class for a year, then I took the entrance examination again this year and was accepted.

A winter conference held last February for the Young Women in the Miami Florida Stake combined workshops, a visit from Young Women general president, Ruth H. Funk, a play presented by the Beehives, and a formal dance as a means of bringing 145 girls together for a day full of learning and sharing.
The conference was organized by the Laurels and their leaders and concentrated on the six areas of focus: spiritual awareness, personal and social refinement, cultural arts, recreation and the world of nature, service and compassion, and homemaking arts. The morning began with workshops that ranged from “Famous Mormon Women,” to “What You ‘Auto’ Know about a Car,” to a panel discussion on “What You Always Wanted to Know from an LDS Boy.” A workshop on diet and nutrition was followed by a “delicious and healthy” lunch.
During the afternoon Sister Funk delivered a message concerning the role of women today and related how she had been able to get the very last seat on the plane out of snowbound New York to attend the conference. After listening to Sister Funk’s testimony, Nancy Fernandez, a young woman from the Miami Second Ward, said, “I knew Sister Funk would be special. I just didn’t know how really special she was until today. I can feel her love for me.”
That afternoon the Beehives wanted to get into the act—and act they did, presenting a touching play “Appleseeds” based on the idea of service. That evening the Mia Maids presented their portion of the conference, the Rose Prom. There was a live band, beautiful rose decorations, and delicious refreshments; and lots of beautiful young women and handsome young men enjoying themselves as brothers and sisters in the gospel. It was a memorable day.

One of the most important lessons I learned in Africa was to examine my priorities and values. In one of our Relief Society lessons there, the manual recommended that children should be helped to keep their drawers clean and neat. One of the sisters asked, “What is a drawer?”

So many great Latter-day Saints, honored pioneers, will be exalted without ever having seen a drawer, owned a new dress, used a time planner, or gazed into a mirror. They will rejoice in the celestial kingdom having never walked through Temple Square or visited Relief Society headquarters in Salt Lake City.

The Book of Mormon brought me a great desire to be accepted of the Lord. One night, my newborn daughter awakened me. I fed her, and she soon fell asleep, but I was left awake in the stillness of the night. I thought of the changes in my life and the many things that still needed to be changed. My thoughts were drawn to God, and I prayed, remembering the words of the Lamanite king who cried, “O God, … wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee.” (Alma 22:18.)
One by one, the Lord showed me my weaknesses. In the early hours of the morning, I received a sweet assurance, which I recorded in my journal and have pondered many times: “I am your Father. Your Father!”

During World War II, Primary children collected boxes of clothes, toys, and baby layettes to send to Saints in Europe who had been bombed and needed supplies.

Late the next spring, the Sandersons boarded a steamboat and churned down the Ohio River and up the Mississippi River. They reached Nauvoo in the summer of 1843 when Henry was 14 and Nauvoo was barely four years old. Henry found young Nauvoo filled with new buildings, most of them small and made of wood, with taller brick houses here and there. Embracing the city on the west was a broad, crescent-shaped bend of the Mississippi River.
Soon after Henry’s family arrived, he hiked up the bluffs to visit the temple construction project. He walked around the 60-centimeter-high walls that workers were building skyward. He inspected the red brick store whose upper floor was the headquarters for the Church. On Main Street he found a brick post office and the Merryweather store.
The Sandersons became neighbors of Joseph Smith on Main Street, two blocks from the river. Henry’s parents moved into a log cabin next to Sidney Rigdon’s home, which stood between them and the Smiths’ new residence, the Mansion House. Henry saw workers put the final touches on the Mansion House, which the Smiths opened that September as a hotel.
Henry played with the Prophet’s sons. The oldest was Joseph Smith III, three years younger than Henry. Henry became best friends with Sidney Rigdon’s sons, Algernon and John W., who were near his age.
In Nauvoo, men and boys paid their tithing by working every 10th day on building projects. “My father and myself went regularly every 10th day to labor on the temple,” Henry said, “sometimes at the quarry and other times on the temple grounds.”
Henry, who knew and liked the Prophet, “had been to his house frequently and played with his boys and he would occasionally join us. I had been in games of ball where the Prophet was one of the players.”

During the latter part of World War II, we lived in the San Francisco Bay Area of northern California. Because of the war, my father worked seven days a week. He would get home at midnight and leave at six in the morning. Although he had been a real anchor of the Church in Arizona, he rarely could go to church during the war. Mother served as the Martinez Ward Relief Society president. She took us to stake conference in Oakland, which then was held on Saturday and Sunday. I remember seeing and hearing George Albert Smith, the President of the Church then, preside and speak at the meeting. Between the meetings on Saturday, she let us enjoy the Bay Area, Golden Gate Park, and baseball games at Seal Stadium. She kept the family and Church bond strong when my father, because of circumstances, couldn’t. A mother can accomplish many things.

Within the week, I listened to one of the brethren who has just returned from the mission field. He has been out nearly five years, and he told of some of the experiences in the field. He told of people that had illness and the doctors did everything they could for them, but they could not heal them. But the humble missionaries, the humble men who held the priesthood, placed their hands upon the heads of those who were afflicted and rebuked their ailments, and they were healed.

In 1990 we were living in the small town of Sale, in Victoria, Australia. We were happily busy with family, Church, and work commitments. On a beautiful summer Saturday just before Christmas, we decided to visit some parks and a favorite beach. After enjoying a wonderful day playing as a family, we packed everyone into the car and headed home. While driving, I momentarily fell asleep and caused a head-on car accident. After some moments of recovery, I looked around the vehicle. My wife, Maxine, had a badly broken leg and was struggling to breathe. She had a broken sternum. Our three daughters were in shock but thankfully appeared to be OK. I had some minor injuries. But our five-month-old son was unresponsive.

Amid the stress and confusion of that accident scene, our eldest daughter, 11-year-old Kate, said with urgency, “Dad, you need to give Jarom a blessing.” After some struggle, my daughters and I managed to get out of the car. Maxine couldn’t be moved. Carefully I picked Jarom up; then, while lying on the ground on my back, I gently placed him on my chest and gave him a priesthood blessing. By the time the ambulance arrived about 40 minutes later, Jarom was conscious.

That night I left three family members in the hospital and took a hushed taxi ride home with two of my daughters. Through the long night, I pled with Heavenly Father that my family and those injured in the other vehicle would recover. Mercifully, my prayers and fervently offered prayers by many others were answered. All were healed over time, a great blessing and tender mercy.

Yet I continued to have deep feelings of guilt and remorse for causing such a terrible accident. I would wake during the night and relive the horrific events. I struggled for years to forgive myself and to find peace. Then, as a priesthood leader, while assisting others to repent and helping them to feel the compassion, mercy, and love of the Savior, I realized that He could heal me.

The Savior’s healing and redeeming power applies to accidental mistakes, poor decisions, challenges, and trials of every kind—as well as to our sins. As I turned to Him, my feelings of guilt and remorse were gradually replaced with peace and rest.

The talk drifted to other times they had spent together, especially a recent trip to the Barataria unit of the Jean Lafitte National Historical Park. In their minds they walked again through the lush green swamp. Cyprus, elm, tupelo, honey locust, palmetto palm, black willow, and oak rose all around them from the green water. Cyprus knees pierced the surface, and fallen logs were everywhere. The friends looked closely to see if some of the logs were alligators, because only a sharp eye can tell the difference. The whole swamp was covered with what seemed to be a green scum, but they found that it was really duckweed, tiny little plants that float on the top of the water.
They knew that the swamp was home to otter, mink, and deer; but they saw only one timid nutria and a dead armadillo. In the murky waters catfish, perch, and gar swam invisibly. Overhead, they heard bird music and looked carefully. The park is home to a hundred kinds of birds from hawks and owls through herons and egrets, but they saw none of them. Crawfish are legion, and the friends saw their little chimneys projecting up from the mud. The trees were full of glistening spider webs in which huge golden silk spiders waited for their prey.
Park rangers told them about the Indians who had lived here several thousand years ago and about the settlers who had come later. They learned how steeped willow bark had been the only aspirin and wax myrtles had been rendered into candles. Most of all they looked in awe at the beauty of God’s creations.

When I returned home to the southern Philippines in 2016 after serving an honorable mission in the northern Philippines, I was looking forward to attending Brigham Young University–Hawaii and experiencing all the other adventures awaiting young adults.
Suddenly, however, I started losing weight. My doctor diagnosed hyperthyroidism. She scared me with the implications if the disease went untreated.
Despite treatment, my body began to change. My eyes started to bulge, and I became very skinny. I avoided having my picture taken and even looking in the mirror because of my appearance.
Medication slowly began to help. But three years later, I was diagnosed with a second malady—a depressive disorder. These two sicknesses robbed me of self-confidence. I struggled to get out of bed to attend school, and I felt incapable of serving in the Church.
I was angry that God had allowed this to happen. I wondered why I should serve with all my heart and soul if doing so just brought trials? I took comfort, however, from these words by President Jeffrey R. Holland, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “Broken minds can be healed just the way broken bones and broken hearts are healed.” I cried when I heard those words. I had a broken mind that needed healing.
I was raised in a faithful home, and my faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ remained intact despite the pain and uncertainty. Gradually, I accepted and adapted to my new circumstances.
Now, eight years later, I am no longer slowed by my maladies. I accept them as a part of life. I feel whole. I can serve and live life fully, though health challenges may continue my whole life. I’ve learned that patiently enduring is part of mortality (see Doctrine and Covenants 121:7–8). I’m learning to drink my bitter cup and remain strong.
I now work in the personnel department of an artificial intelligence company and take online classes at night from Brigham Young University–Pathway Worldwide. I’ve stopped asking “Why me?” and have started asking “What I can learn? How can I benefit from this experience?”
Looking back, I see that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were with me all the way. Going forward, I know in whom I can trust (see Proverbs 3:5–6; 2 Nephi 4:34).

Several years back, some youth from my branch and I were returning from an activity and were standing alongside a lonely road waiting for a bus. Finally we saw a car coming. It stopped, and the driver was my former teacher, Mr. Enemor. We had not seen each other for some years. With great joy on his face, he exclaimed, “Ihenkoro, it’s been quite some time. You’ve grown big.”
Having him stop seemed a miracle, for we had been there for hours without seeing any cars. Now we would not even have to pay for a ride. As we drove, Mr. Enemor asked, “Where are you people coming from?”
I replied, “From a Church program.”
He said, “Oh, that’s nice. How I wish every young person would attend church. This country would be fine.” Then he asked, “Which church?”
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” I told him.
“Mormon? Are you a Mormon?”
I said yes.
He said, “That is not a church. I have heard about them.” He pulled over and said we should get out of his car. We did.
With a smile on my face, I said to him, “Thank you, sir, for the ride. I know you will one day bear a testimony of this Church.” He drove away, and we stood for another hour and a half before we could get a bus home.
I knew I would have to pay a price to be a good missionary. We all have to pay a price for anything of value. Our Savior showed us that when He paid the price for our sins.
I wanted to share the gospel with Mr. Enemor, so I went to his house. He never allowed me in, but I dropped off several Church pamphlets and a Church magazine for him.
Many months after that I received a letter from him. In the letter he asked, “Please forgive me for what I did to you that evening. I owe you an apology and all our thanks. My family and I are now members of that church I was once against. I am now a Latter-day Saint.”
Brother Enemor and his family are strong members of the Church in Abuja, Nigeria. He and his family have been sealed in the temple. He still writes me and always says, “I thank you for leading me to the light.”
We gain a living by what we get, but we gain a life by what we give. We can give the gospel and bring light to the lives of many others. People may forget what you say and what you do, but they don’t forget how you make them feel. Go and make them feel good by giving them the gospel light. I have been blessed with great rewards for the small price I paid to share the gospel with someone who at first spurned me for my beliefs.