Gospel Story Finder

The Provo Utah Sharon East Stake often goes camping or holds outdoor activities for part of its youth conference. But last year, the youth stayed in town and helped in the revitalization project of one of the pioneer neighborhoods in Provo.

Mark Stringham, 16, was on the youth planning committee. They were tossing around the idea of doing a service-oriented project. One of their leaders is involved in city government. He said there was a neighborhood that needed some help. Mark said, “The minute he said it, everybody’s mind just went, Boom. That’s what we need to do.”

The teens worked with an organization already involved in helping the residents improve their land and keep their homes in good repair. To make the project even more enjoyable, the stake invited the teens who live in the neighborhood to come to their youth conference. The young people didn’t know each other because they attended different high schools, so giving service together also became a time to gain new friends.

Brendan Wright, 17, said, “The theme of our youth conference was by helping others you can raise yourself. When you get here, it just explodes. It’s fun. You get to know people. You take pride in what you’re doing. This is my little section of the house. I’m going to paint it the best I can.”

The group not only painted houses, they helped cut down the high, dry weeds running along the railroad tracks. One spark from a passing train could start a fire, and the growth was so tall and dry, it could have caused major problems if it spread to nearby homes. Looking a little like they had been rolling in haystacks, because of the bits of dry grass sticking to their clothes and hair, one group had the weedeaters going full blast. Then passing motorists began to stop and tell them it looked good and how much they appreciated them helping out. The word was spreading with the good works.

My husband, Eddie Uele, and I have three children: Indie-Rose, Rollo, and Kamaukiterangi (Kamau). On 12 Jan. 2022, we tragically lost our then 2-year-old son, Kamau.
That afternoon, playing and laughing with our children in our bedroom, we suddenly realized Kamau was missing. Moments later, Kamau was found unconscious in our backyard. Eddie performed CPR until the paramedics arrived while my family and I pleaded for Heavenly Father’s help.
Kamau was rushed to the hospital where a team of doctors were waiting for him. When we arrived, Eddi and I were taken to a private room where we spent the next few minutes holding each other’s hands, still in constant prayer. A doctor finally walked in, sat down in front of us and began to speak.
I couldn’t hear any words that he was saying as everything around me had become still, quiet, and peaceful—then, as clear as day, I saw my son in front of me playing with a little toy truck, giggling and happy. It was then that I knew my son had died. I also knew that this was Heavenly Father’s way of preparing me for what was to come.

For example, in a casual conversation I had recently with the president of one of the full-time missions of the Church, he told me that when he received his mission call from the First Presidency, he asked his employers for a leave of absence. Within three years his financial interest in the company in which he was employed would be large enough to support him and his family for the remainder of their lives.

His employers, being non-church members and unfavorable toward his going on a mission, refused to give him a leave of absence. Also, they informed him that he would lose all of his financial benefits in the company if he accepted the mission call. In spite of this terrific financial sacrifice and the loss of his job, he accepted the mission call and is now faithfully serving his church and his God.

I asked the mission president, “Why didn’t you tell the First Presidency of the financial loss you would suffer if you went on a mission at that time and ask them to postpone your call for three years?”

He replied, “The Lord didn’t call me on a mission for three years from now. He called me to serve now. My wife and I decided to obey the call of the Lord and trust that our financial affairs would be taken care of later.”

Such a sacrifice to render Christian service is certainly astounding. It is a modern missionary miracle.

About 40 years ago my wife, Jeanene, asked me to go with her to visit one of her close friends. That friend’s husband happened to be a commercial artist. I was fascinated with his ability to use brushes, watercolor, and paper to create beauty. Something inside of me said, “Try it,” but my more rational self responded, “You’ve never had any artistic ability; all you will do is prove that you can’t paint anything.” Fortunately the feeling to want to try persisted.
I got a few books on watercolor from the library, bought an inexpensive set of paints and a brush and looked for an isolated place where I could safely try my hand at art without embarrassment. With a sheet of ordinary paper I tried to paint a tree, then other objects. The results, even viewed charitably, were not very good, but I still remember the excitement I felt from doing something I had never done before.
The initial feeling of accomplishment encouraged me to read more and try harder. Later I was privileged to take five lessons from a master watercolorist and teacher, Elliott O’Hare. That experience changed everything. I began to appreciate that much can be accomplished with an understanding of basic principles. I discovered the importance of quality materials. Objective criticism from a knowledgeable friend became an appreciated source of growth. There followed other small but important seeds of reinforcement: a prize at the state fair for a modest painting of sailboats in the fog, and the first sale of a watercolor of a small boy and girl with a fishing rod and dog. Even now, many years later, these experiences bring great personal satisfaction.
It doesn’t concern me that I will never be an accomplished watercolorist. Even infrequent efforts to try to express feelings with a brush and paint continue to provide a constantly renewing source of pleasure and benefit. There is an awareness of the miracle of color, subtle transitions in value, dramatic contrasts, and appealing shapes and patterns. Every face is a fascinating study of light and shadow, texture, and hue that speaks volumes regarding character and personality. Eyes have become for me the fingerprint of the soul. Moreover the masterful work of gifted artists has become a refreshing source of enjoyment and learning. Most importantly I feel that perhaps I am more sensitive to the limitless creative genius of our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son.
Wherever I go I see beauty in ways that would not have been perceived with the same intensity and variety had I not followed that prompting to “try it.” I still have that first painting. When I look at it my mind is filled with sweet memories of much that happened in that time of my life, and the satisfaction I have received from modest personal efforts to be creative in many different areas of life.

While I was growing up, my father was a very busy man because he had a demanding job as a truck driver for construction projects. But he always took time for me. When I was in high school, my father would ask my five sisters when he came home from work, “Where is Benjamín?”
My sisters would come to me and say, “Father wants you.”
I would leave playing with my friends and run to ask him, “What do you need, Father?”
He would say, “Bring your scriptures, and come with me.”
Two or three times a week we would read the scriptures together like that. He was a master teacher of the scriptures. At that time we did not have seminary in Mexico. Now I think of those study sessions as my own seminary class with my father as the teacher.
While reading the scriptures and hearing my father explain them to me, I learned for myself what the Spirit feels like in my heart and in my mind. Many times the Spirit was very strong as he would explain the scriptures.
These kinds of experiences with my father were the beginning of my own testimony of Heavenly Father and the Church. I always thought that the Church was true, but just thinking so was not enough. My father took my hand and put it on the iron rod. His manner of taking care of me was the key for my testimony and my inner security in the gospel.
During those meetings, not only did I learn many things from him about the scriptures, but I learned that my father loved me in a way that I couldn’t quite understand at the time. Many other times he would invite me to a movie or to eat, and I know that I was protected by my father’s care for me. Now I am a father, and I know that he loved me in a special way.

While I was on my mission, I traveled for a few days with Elder Spencer W. Kimball, then of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. I was his temporary driver and companion. It was the first time I had been so close to an Apostle of the Lord. I heard him pray and testify. I saw what he focused on, what he talked about, and what he was like when he was not in public. I saw how he treated other people and how thoughtful he was of their needs. I decided that this was the kind of man I wanted to become.

It may not be easy to be a counselor. President J. Reuben Clark, Jr., who, as a counselor, had responsibility for the operation of the Church while President Heber J. Grant was ill, said to me on one occasion, “It is difficult to have responsibility without authority.”
He was saying, in effect, that he had to move forward in handling those duties which ordinarily devolve upon the President, but while doing so, he did not have the authority of the President.

In more than 165 countries of the world, our sisters are being instruments in the hands of God. I think of a ward in Brazil that has an influx of new members every week. The sisters in that Relief Society decided to set a goal to not let even one week pass without each newly baptized sister receiving a visit in her home and a copy of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” and the Relief Society Declaration. So far they haven’t lost any sisters to inactivity.

To encourage the teachers in our ward to use better object lessons, I called those who would be attending a teacher development meeting and asked them to recall the most memorable object lesson they had seen. The responses were wonderful and sparked a deeper-than-usual interest in our upcoming meeting. At the beginning of the meeting, my wife, Rosie, and I used the responses to list nearly 30 object lessons on the chalkboard. We spent the rest of the meeting encouraging the teachers to share the object lessons that had the most impact on them.

Last June, a terrible accident occurred in the country of Lesotho in southern Africa. A small bus carrying 20 young women of the Maputsoe Branch of the Church and seven of their leaders was headed to the capital city, Maseru, for a gathering of young women from their district. As they traveled the two-lane highway in the morning hours, a car coming in the opposite direction, attempting to pass another vehicle, came into the lane occupied by the bus. There was no space or time to avoid a head-on collision, and within seconds the vehicles hit, rolled off the road, and burst into flames.
In all, 15 people died in the accident, including six young women, two Young Women leaders, and the branch president and his wife. Survivors, family members, and friends have expressed a range of emotions, including moments of anger, depression, and even guilt. Despite these feelings and unanswered questions, they have comforted one another and turned to God through sacred music, the scriptures, and prayer, where they have found solace. Seventeen-year-old survivor Setso’ana Selebeli testified, “Jesus Christ loves us and is with us, even though our hearts hurt.”
A young woman and a leader who were hospitalized for burn treatments studied the Book of Mormon together. One said, “Lately we’ve been reading in Moroni, and Moroni says exactly what I’ve been feeling. … When he speaks, it’s like he’s saying, ‘You have to learn these words because they are written for you to help you pass through this.’”
At a joint funeral service for those who perished, Area Seventy Elder Siyabonga Mkhize counseled, “We should all turn to the Lord at this time and ask Him to comfort our hearts and … to soothe the pain that we feel.” The Young Women president from the neighboring Leribe Branch, Mampho Makura, urged: “Turn to the Lord, and find the strength to accept His will. Jesus Christ is ‘the author and finisher of our faith’ [Hebrews 12:2]. Don’t look away, but look to Him.”
Of course, the counsel “look to God and live” not only has meaning for us in eternity but also makes all the difference in the character and quality of our mortal lives. Remember the words of young Sister Selebeli in Lesotho already mentioned—“Jesus Christ loves us and is with us, even though our hearts hurt.”
Looking to God means that He is not just one of our priorities; it means, rather, that He is our one highest priority. I call to mind again that awful crash in Lesotho last June. From her hospital bed, one of the Young Women leaders who survived, who did not believe in God before joining the Church, said that her purpose is now to discover why her life was spared. “Constantly serving God is how I will come to an answer, if I come to an answer,” she stated. “I used to think that I love God, but now I really, really, really, really, really love Him. Now He is the [number-one] priority in my life.”

The door burst open. Cold winter air rushed into the hall with Billy. Mike, his older brother, crowded in behind, followed by Mom and Dad.
“Grandma! We’re here for dinner!” Billy shouted. He hurried into the kitchen, smelling spicy pumpkin pie, roasted turkey, and sage dressing.
Grandma smiled. “It’ll take a while to get dinner on the table, boys,” she said. “You’ll find crayons and paper on the hall table. How about a picture?”
At the table, Mike began coloring, but Billy peered into the living room. It was full of porcelain figurines, an old sugar bowl, and other treasures. Grandma called them heirlooms. Each had its own pioneer story.
Billy’s gaze fastened on a small mirror on a shelf. Billy loved the mirror most because its story was his favorite.
Billy turned away from the living room and was reaching for a red crayon when the big oval mirror at the end of the hall caught his eye. He forgot about the crayon, walked to the mirror, and stretched as tall as he could.
“What are you doing?” Mike asked.
“Trying to see a child of God.”
“Too short, huh?” Mike said. Under the mirror, a low shelf held Grandma’s prized Boston fern. “I’ll give you a boost up to the shelf.”
With Mike’s arms around him, Billy kicked his feet in search of the shelf. He found the shelf, but knocked the fern to the floor. Black dirt spilled all over the carpet. The fern was smashed and broken, its bare roots sticking into the air.
Suddenly the shelf gave way. Billy bumped heads with Mike as he fell, then landed facedown in the dirt.
“What will we do?” Billy whispered, pushing himself up.
“Sometimes the cat gets on the shelf,” Mike said. “Maybe Grandma will think the cat did it.”
“But it wouldn’t be the truth,” Billy said. “We did it, so we should tell.”
“OK, but let’s wait until after dinner.”
“Wash up and come to dinner, boys,” Mom called.
When the two boys sat down at the table, Grandpa said the blessing. Everybody started to eat, but the food tasted like rubber in Billy’s mouth.
“Is something wrong?” Dad asked.
“I don’t like peas very much,” Billy mumbled.
Dad frowned. “How did you get the bump on your forehead?”
“Excuse me,” Billy mumbled, and fled to the bathroom.
Mom and Dad followed him. “Are you sick?” Mom asked.
Billy shook his head. “I stood on Grandma’s shelf. It broke. When I fell, Mike and I bumped heads. I just wanted to see a child of God in the big mirror.” Billy’s chest heaved. “Grandma’s fern is ruined. I feel awful—not at all like a child of God.”
“I helped him get on the shelf,” Mike said in a soft voice from behind Mom and Dad. “We didn’t know it would break. I don’t feel like a child of God either.”
“We thought maybe you’d think the cat did it,” Billy said. “We decided to tell the truth after dinner.”
“Well, now,” Grandma said, joining them. “No matter what you do, you are always a child of God. But I’m glad that you chose to tell the truth.”
Grandpa looked at the bent brackets that had held the shelf to the wall. “I reckon this can be fixed,” he said. “Grandma’s fern can be repotted. It looks pretty bedraggled, but it’ll likely grow out again.”
Grandma put the broken fern into the pot. “Even if it doesn’t grow, I can get a new plant,” she said. “But I could never replace these two children of God.”
“Look,” Dad said, holding Billy up to the mirror. “See the child who was tempted to blame the cat, but didn’t? How about giving him a smile?”
Billy managed a weak smile.
Back at the table, Billy noticed that everything—even the peas—now tasted delicious.
After dinner, Billy held the little mirror as Grandma told the story of how it had comforted the girl who was his long-ago grandma.
When the story was finished, all of them took a turn telling something each was thankful for. Billy looked into the little mirror and said, “I’m thankful to be a child of God.”

In the Philippines Tacloban Mission, missionaries focused on this idea of eternal conversion. They encouraged both themselves and those they taught to strengthen their faith in Jesus Christ. As their faith grew, they were motivated to repent and to draw closer to the Savior. They made covenants with the Lord, which brought the Holy Spirit into their lives. This helped them stay on the path of eternal conversion.

Both Nikolai Chemezov and his wife, Asiya, of the Kharkivs’kyi Ward, were introduced to the gospel in their youth—Nikolai as an eight-year-old and Asiya as a teenager.
“Ever since I was baptized, I knew that Heavenly Father’s plan was the path of exaltation,” Brother Chemezov says. “The Church’s teachings on the divine mission of the family have always been important to me.”
Sister Chemezova also realized the importance of eternal families at a young age. “When I attended church as a young woman, I was taught how important it is to enter into sacred temple covenants,” she says. “I always dreamed of a temple marriage, and I always tried to be worthy of being able to be married in the temple.”
The couple began dating in 2009. As love blossomed and conversations began to turn toward marriage, the two already knew what would be their next step. “When they announced that the Kyiv Temple would be dedicated in August 2010, we decided we would be sealed there,” Sister Chemezova says.
“It’s good we didn’t have to wait too long,” Brother Chemezov adds.
The couple was sealed in marriage on September 1, 2010.
“It was the most wonderful day of my life,” Brother Chemezov says. “I felt blessed to take the hand of my dear Asiya and take her to the house of the Lord. It is safe to say that on that day my dream came true—the dream of creating an eternal family.”

The Day My Mom Almost Enrolled in Preschool! Who’s more worried about the first day of preschool, Jordan or his mom? And who feels better about it first?Dianne Dannhaus3–5 years

“It was a great opportunity to strengthen my testimony,” says Daniel Kirkpatrick, who baptized his friend Jeron Fosjord after helping the missionaries teach him. “It helped me appreciate the priesthood more because it wasn’t my dad performing the ordinance. It wasn’t one of the older adults or even my older brother. It was me. I had the priesthood, and I could use it.”

Daniel, a priest in the Pioneer Park Ward, was struck by the eternal consequences of performing Jeron’s baptism. “Jeron is going to be a missionary some day. He’ll affect others, and they’ll affect others. It was a sobering thought, a wake-up call, that what I was doing will have eternal echoes.”

When the day finally came, naturally Dan was nervous about performing an ordinance in front of other people. “I was a little scared,” he says. “I probably asked Jeron his middle name a thousand times to make sure I got it right.” It didn’t help that the font hadn’t filled all the way.

“The water didn’t even reach our knees,” Dan says.

He got the name right, but the water was so low that it took him four tries before Jeron was completely submerged. “I just about drowned him one time because as he was coming up I saw that he hadn’t gone all the way under, so I panicked and pushed him down again.”

After the third try, they went ahead with the talks and musical number while the font filled some more. By Dan’s fourth and final try, the water was up to their waists. “It was easy then,” he says.

Despite it being a “rough first time,” Dan loved the experience: “It was awesome.” Not only did it strengthen his testimony and help him appreciate the priesthood more, the experience excited him about serving a mission.

“I’ve felt the fears and tasted the successes of a full-time mission,” he says. “I’m excited to get out there and serve.”

In my early life I had been very interested in oil painting, drawing, graphics—anything that had to do with art. Now I had lost the ability to even hold a pen or brush, and the scripture came to mind that if talents aren’t used they regress and become dormant. That’s exactly what had happened to me.
Then one day, as I sat working with a sander to strengthen the shoulder motion that I had, I noticed a pencil on the table. For a moment I daydreamed about how wonderful it would be to be able to do a simple thing like pick up the pencil and write my name. This illustrates how meaningful even the smallest things became.
At my request the brace maker fashioned a small attachment to the brace that enabled me to hold the pencil in an almost natural position. I stared down at the paper, afraid to begin. I felt like a small child picking up his first crayon. And as I applied the pencil to the paper, I found that I could only make senseless scribblings. I couldn’t even form the basic letters of the alphabet!
I won’t elaborate on the devastating discouragements that presented barriers at this time; but after three months of treatment, I did succeed in making one small drawing of a tree, and I had learned to print my name. This was, to me, great progress.

I recall a day when one of our children was leaving for school with his friend. I waved good-bye and called out, “Remember who you are.” As they walked away, I overheard the friend ask, “Why does your mother always say that to you? What does she mean?” I heard our son’s quick reply, “She means, ‘Be good.’” He was exactly right. We remember who we are by doing good, and we do good when we remember who we are.

Mariela came home from school with a frown on her face. “What’s wrong?” Mom asked as she planted flowers in the garden.
“Sonia promised she would play with me, and then she didn’t,” Mariela said. She plopped down in the dirt next to Mom.
“I’m so sorry,” Mom said. “It’s important to keep promises. Next week when you are baptized and confirmed, you will make some very important promises called covenants.”
“Really?” Mariela asked. She was excited to be baptized.
Mom put some yellow flowers in the ground. “You promise to obey the commandments. You also promise to take the name of Jesus Christ upon you. What does Heavenly Father promise if you do these things?”
Mariela thought about what she was learning in Primary. “That I’ll have the Holy Ghost with me.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “You’ll also become a member of Jesus’s Church. How can you keep your promise to obey the commandments?”
“I can be kind, and I can tell the truth,” Mariela said. “What does it mean to take Jesus’s name upon me?”
“It means that you try to be like Him and do what He would want you to do,” Mom said. “What can you do to be like Jesus?”
Mariela twirled a purple flower between her fingers. “I can sit with the new girl at school. And I can try to be nice to Sonia,” she said.
“Those are great ideas,” Mom said. “And when you take the sacrament, you can remember your promises.”
Mariela smiled. “I know another promise—to water the flowers so we can have a beautiful garden!”

Dave Orchard grew up in Salt Lake City, where most of his friends were members of the Church. They were a great influence on him. In addition, Church leaders in his neighborhood constantly invited him to activities. His friends did the same. Even though he didn’t join the Church at that time, his growing-up years were blessed by the influence of good LDS friends and Church-sponsored activities. After he entered college, he moved away from his home, and most of his friends left on missions. He missed their influence in his life.

One of Dave’s high school friends was still home. This friend was meeting every week with his bishop in an effort to put his life in order and be able to serve as a missionary. He and Dave became roommates, and as would be both natural and normal, they talked about why he wasn’t then serving as a missionary and why he was meeting frequently with the bishop. The friend expressed his gratitude and respect for his bishop and the opportunity to repent and serve. He then asked Dave whether he would like to come to the next interview. What an invitation! But in the context of their friendship and circumstances, it was both natural and normal.

Dave agreed and was soon meeting with the bishop himself. This led to Dave’s decision to meet with the missionaries. He received a testimony that the gospel is true, and a date for his baptism was set. Dave was baptized by his bishop, and a year later, Dave Orchard and Katherine Evans were married in the temple. They have five beautiful children. Katherine is my little sister. I will be forever grateful to this good friend who, together with a good bishop, brought Dave into the Church.

As Dave spoke of his conversion and bore his testimony regarding these events, he asked the question, “So, was it worth it? Was all the effort of friends and youth leaders and my bishop, over all the years, worth the effort to have just one boy be baptized?” Pointing to Katherine and his five children, he said, “Well, at least for my wife and our five children, the answer is yes.”

Whenever the gospel is shared, it is never “just one boy.” Whenever conversion happens or someone returns to the Lord, it is a family that is saved. As Dave and Katherine’s children have grown, they have all embraced the gospel. One daughter and two sons have served as missionaries, and one just received his call to serve in the Alpine German-Speaking Mission. The two oldest have married in the temple, and the youngest is now in high school, faithful in every way. Was it worth it? Oh yes, it was worth it.

My little sister, Omega, and I love to see the temple. When our ward visits the Monterrey Mexico Temple, we leave at midnight and travel for six hours to get there. I know that the temple is where families can become eternal. Soon we will move to Tuxtla Gutiérrez. There is a temple there, and we will be able to visit more often. I am thankful for temples.
Helem N., age 4, Mexico