Gospel Story Finder

All in the Morning Early by Sorche Nic Leodhas; illustrated by Evaline Ness. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1963. On his way to the mill with a sack of corn, Sandy meets many friends who accompany him on his journey.

The Nalla family, Maharashtra, India, rides a motor scooter to church to watch general conference.

One key is to look on the margins. One ward Relief Society president, Chris, has a habit of looking for those people who may not be involved. When she sees them, she greets them with a smile and looks them in the eye, listening intently to what they say. Because of her genuine, focused attention, they feel seen and understood. As she listens, she often discovers their strengths and ways they can contribute. She recognizes that there is untapped potential or hidden talents waiting to be developed in everyone. In that inspired process, individuals are brought into the circle of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and whole families are blessed.

About fifteen years ago a large flock of quail selected four blue spruce trees near the side of our house for their nightly roosting place. Our family decided to feed the quail every day during the winter months so they would live with us permanently. In back of our house we have a patio and a large lawn. Glass doors open directly to the back from our living room, and we always have a perfect view of our patio and lawn. We decided the patio would be an ideal place to feed quail and any other birds that came during the winter months.
I built a bird feeder about six feet high so snowbirds and other small birds could enjoy eating where they felt more secure off the ground. Each day we scattered milo on the patio for the quail, and we also put milo in the bird feeder for the smaller birds.
Shortly before sunrise a number of male quail would begin to crow and give their whistles and commands. The flock of quail soon grew to about seventy-five birds and would fly down from the blue spruce trees to the patio for their morning feeding. On days when there was no snow on our back lawn, the quail would finish their meal and then would usually lounge around on the lawn for about two hours to sun themselves. Then they would go out our back gate and up on the hills to spend the day gathering seeds.
Shortly before nightfall the large flock of quail would return through our east gate, pick a few seeds from the lawn, and then come down to the patio to have their final fill of milo before flying into the blue spruce trees to roost for the night. What a joyful experience our family had day after day as we watched these birds!

My husband is a furniture maker. Although it has often been difficult to find employment in the Philippines, the Lord has blessed us.
One day when our finances were very low, my husband was working in a furniture shop making tables and chairs. I met him at work and told him we had nothing at home to eat. He told me to meet him at the market that evening when he got off work. He would ask his employer for an advance payment so we could buy some rice for dinner.
When we met that afternoon, he told me he had been advanced 50 pesos, just enough to help us get by. But when we tried to pay for the rice, he could not find the money in his pocket. We went back to the furniture shop to look for it, but nobody had seen the money. As we walked home without food or money, my husband was angry and frustrated. I tried to help him calm down, telling him to trust in the Lord. That night I prayed the Lord would help us find the money.
The next morning as my husband and daughter, Jennilyn, walked out the front door, Jennilyn saw something on the doorstep—it was the 50 pesos. I was overjoyed and grateful to Heavenly Father for making it possible for us to eat. I know if we do our part and then trust in Him, Heavenly Father will be merciful and show compassion to us.

That same witness came early in my life on two Sundays, one in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and the other in Boston, Massachusetts. In each case I was present on the day that a stake was organized from a district. Seemingly ordinary men whom I knew well were called as stake presidents. I raised my hand on those days as you did today and had a witness come to me that God had called His servants and that I would be blessed by their service and for sustaining them. I have now felt that same miracle countless times across the Church.
I saw in the days and months that followed their being sustained that those stake presidents were lifted up to their callings. I have seen the same miracle in the service of President Monson as he received the call to preside as the prophet and President of the Church and to exercise all the keys of the priesthood in the earth. Revelation and inspiration have come to him in my presence, which confirms to me that God is honoring those keys. I am an eyewitness. They are keys of a priesthood which is, in the Lord’s words, “without beginning or end.”

Turn to the righteousness section of your daily newspaper and read the lead story. “Elder Sargent won a big one today. When the Gomez family returned their Book of Mormon and asked him not to come anymore, he rebounded, said a quick prayer, hugged his companion, and decided to knock on a few more doors. ‘There’s a family waiting out there somewhere,’ he said. ‘We’re going to find them.’ The outstanding play brought the crowd to its feet.”

I recall an experience I heard at a stake conference in Idaho. A farm family in the community had just contracted for the installation of an additional and much-needed room on their home. Three or four days later the father came to the building supply dealer and said, “Will it be all right with you if we cancel the contract? The bishop talked with my son John about a mission last night. We will need to set this additional room aside for a while.” The building supply dealer responded, “Your son will go on his mission, and he will find the needed room when he returns.” Here was the spirit of Christianity—a family sending a boy into the world to teach the gospel, and friends coming to help the family with their problems. What then, indeed, shall we do with Jesus who is called Christ?

One of my personal highlights at FSY was morning gospel study. I was always able to feel the Spirit, and it was the time most of my questions were answered.
James R., age 15, California

When I was in junior high, I was honored by the school administration when I was asked to become a member of the student hall patrol. On the days we were assigned to be on hall patrol, we were instructed to bring our lunch to school and eat it together. It was always a special treat, and there was always a lot of competition to see whose mother had prepared the most desirable lunch. Often we traded lunch items among ourselves.
One day when I was assigned to be on hall patrol, I forgot to tell Mother I needed a lunch until I was almost ready to leave for school. An expression of concern came over Mother’s face when I requested a lunch. She told me she had just used up her last loaf of bread for breakfast and would not be baking until that afternoon. All she had in the house to make a lunch was a large sweet roll left over from the previous night’s supper. Mother made delicious sweet rolls. She always arranged them in a pan so there was one large one across the top of the pan and then rows of smaller ones down the length of the pan. Only the large one remained. It was about the size of a loaf of bread in length but, of course, not in thickness. I was embarrassed to take just a sweet roll for lunch when I imagined what the other patrol members would have, but I decided it was better to go with the sweet roll than go without lunch.
When it came time to eat lunch, I went to a far-off corner so I wouldn’t be noticed. When the trading of lunches started, my friends wanted to know what I had. I explained what had happened that morning, and to my dismay, everyone wanted to see the sweet roll. But my friends surprised me—instead of making fun of me, they all wanted to have a piece of the sweet roll! It turned out to be my best lunch trading day of the entire year! The sweet roll I thought would be an embarrassment to me turned out to be the hit of our lunch hour.

“Hi, honey.” Mom smiled as Keri hopped into the car.
“How was activity day?”
“Terrible,” Keri mumbled.
Mom pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the street. “What happened?” she asked.
“We planted flowers in Sister Jackson’s front yard.”
“That was nice of you.”
“Sister Jackson didn’t think so. She got mad at us.”
“Really? Why?”
“She said that petunias were her favorite flower, and we planted mostly marigolds.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It gets worse. She said we have to come back later and do it right. Mom, we can’t spend all of our activity days at her house. We’ve got other plans. All the girls want to learn how to knit so we can have matching scarves this winter.”
Mom patted Keri’s knee. “Tell you what—for family home evening we can plant petunias at Sister Jackson’s house. How would that be?”
Keri frowned. “All right, but it won’t be any fun. She’s grumpy and mean and demanding. We’d better have great refreshments so the night won’t be a total loss.”
The next Monday night Keri, Mom, Dad, and Keri’s little brother, Cole, arrived at Sister Jackson’s house with a box full of petunias. When Sister Jackson answered the door, she wasn’t smiling. “Plant them in the front,” she ordered, pointing with her cane. “And not too close together. Petunias need space to grow.”
As Keri and her family worked, Sister Jackson came out onto her porch. “You’ll need mulch,” she said. “I want the fine, red kind—none of that chunky gray stuff. Make sure you get enough.” She turned and hobbled back into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind her.
“See what I mean?” Keri growled. “She’s never satisfied. There’s always one more thing to do. This service project is going to go on and on for eternity.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Mom asked, pulling off her gardening gloves. “The commandment to love our neighbors doesn’t have an expiration date. And eternal projects might just bring eternal blessings. Now, let’s go get the mulch while Dad and Cole finish planting the flowers.”
But all the way to the store, Keri kept grumbling. “What’s wrong with her, anyway? Why can’t she be grateful for what we’ve done? Why does she have to be so critical all the time?”
“I’ve been thinking about Sister Jackson,” Mom said. “She lives alone with no family nearby. She hasn’t been able to go to church for months because of her poor health. She must be lonely. Her home teachers and visiting teachers come, but the only time anyone else visits is when there’s a service project.”
“You mean, she’s stretching out this job so we’ll keep coming to see her?”
Mom nodded. “I think so.”
Keri shook her head in wonder. “Well, if she weren’t so grumpy, maybe people would want to visit her more often.”
“No one likes to always be asking for help,” Mom explained. “And no one likes to be seen as a ‘project’ to be finished and forgotten. Maybe that’s what makes her feel grumpy. Perhaps she wants to be viewed as a real person with something to give. Maybe she needs to serve, not just be served.”
“How?”
Mom shrugged. “I don’t really know. I guess we need to find out more about Sister Jackson.”
When they got back from the store, Sister Jackson was sitting on her front porch doing some kind of handicraft. As Dad and Cole helped lift the large bags of mulch from the back of the car, she squinted at them over her eyeglasses. “I also want that plastic edging around the flowers replaced with brick. You can bring the bricks next week.”
Mom winked at Keri, and Keri rolled her eyes. Then Keri noticed what Sister Jackson was doing. She was knitting! Suddenly Keri knew exactly what to do—if she dared. Wiping her hands on her jeans and saying a little prayer for courage, she stepped toward the porch. “Uh, Sister Jackson,” she said, “do you know how to knit?”
Sister Jackson leaned back in her chair and frowned. “Of course I do, child. Don’t you have eyes?”
“Ah, yes, well, we—that is, the girls who planted the marigolds and I—we’d like to learn how to knit scarves. Do you think you could teach us?”
Sister Jackson’s eyes lit up for just a moment. “But I can’t get out to the church, honey,” she said softly.
“That’s OK. We’ll come here, if that’s all right. It might take us a lot of lessons, though. We’re pretty slow learners.”
Sister Jackson nodded, and a faint smile crossed her lips. “I guess I could find the time somehow. Get a paper and pencil from my kitchen table, and write down what I tell you to bring. We’ve got to decide on colors and patterns, too. Go on now—it’s right inside the door.”
Keri looked at her mother and grinned. She knew that this was just the beginning of an activity that could go on for a long, long time. Maybe even for eternity. But that was OK with her.

When Elder Dunn was eight, he got his first horse and called him Smokey. “I had to ride him home from Stockton, a distance of about seven miles,” he remembers, “and that was a great experience. It was the first time I had ridden a horse that far, and of course I rode bareback.”

I have participated in general conference for nearly 20 years, and only on the rarest of occasions has a specific assignment been given to a speaker to address a particular topic. But there have been instances while sitting on the stand and knowing I would speak soon that I have noticed a continuity building in the messages being delivered. Church leaders who have not talked to each other about the content of their individual messages each contribute to a cohesive conference crescendo that is miraculous. So, yes, general conference is orchestrated—but by heaven, not by the participants.

About a decade ago, while I was at a stake conference in the United States, I was introduced to a member who had not participated in the Church for many years. “Why should I return to Church activity?” this member asked me. Considering all the Savior has done for us, I replied it should be easy to offer something in service to Him and our fellowmen. My questioner considered that idea for a moment and then voiced this astonishing reply: “What’s He done for me?”

This astonishing answer moved me to ponder what people expect to receive from Jesus Christ, from His gospel, and from participating in His Church. I thought of some others who said they stopped going to Church because the Church was “not meeting their needs.” Which needs could they be expecting the Church to meet? If persons are simply seeking a satisfying social experience, they might be disappointed in a particular ward or branch and seek other associations. There are satisfying social experiences in many organizations. If they are simply seeking help to learn the gospel, they could pursue that goal through available literature. But are these the principal purposes of the Church? Is this all we are to receive from the gospel of Jesus Christ?

There was no doubting the dedication or enthusiasm of the leaders who came to the conference to learn their duties. They stood in bulging lines outside the tabernacle to get in, and then many had to wait outside during the sessions. And everywhere they were talking to each other, not about baseball or the stock market or Watergate, but about the program, trying to find someone who understood it a little better than they did, trying to find out how to make it work, trying to learn how to better fulfill their stewardship.

When Aunt Jane came to visit, she always brought a present for Hannah and her little sister, Cara. Hannah held her breath as Aunt Jane opened her suitcase and reached inside. Aunt Jane’s eyes twinkled as she pulled out two dolls—one dressed in blue and one in green.
Hannah reached out to touch the doll in the dark green velvet dress. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she said.
Frilly lace trimmed the dress. It looked old fashioned. The doll’s face and hands were carefully painted. Her eyelashes looked so real that Hannah just had to touch them.
“I picked these two dolls out especially for my two favorite nieces,” Aunt Jane said.
Hannah laughed. “We’re your only nieces, Aunt Jane.”
Aunt Jane smiled. “That doesn’t mean you’re not my favorites!”
Cara looked at the doll in the green dress. She smoothed her fingers down the dress. “She’s really pretty.”
Hannah showed the other doll to Cara. “This one’s pretty too.”
Cara barely even looked at the doll in the blue dress. “I want this one,” she said, pointing to the doll in the green dress.
Hannah saw the longing in Cara’s eyes, and her heart sank. What should she do?
Then Hannah looked at the blue dress the other doll was wearing. It looked a lot like a dress her grandma had given Hannah last year. It even had a white collar and red trim around the hem like Hannah’s dress.
Hannah looked back at Cara’s face. Then she picked up the doll in the blue dress. “I like this one,” she said. And she really did.

When residents of Bear Creek called for help, over 175 youth and leaders from the Dallas Texas Stake answered. They helped with the restoration and cleanup of the historic, 150-year-old area, the oldest black community in Dallas County.
The youth worked hard to help restore and preserve some of the historic homes in the area. They also prepared some of the historical buildings that will be moved nearer to a recreation center site.
The residents of Bear Creek expressed their gratitude for the “wonderful job” the LDS youth did in helping them clean up their homes and neighborhoods. They were amazed that so many could be brought together from such distant places in such a short time.

There is a boy in school and no one likes him. They all make fun of him. But I talk to him. I tell him hi. I am nice to him. I hang around with him. I even tell people to leave him alone.—Leia

My second mission president was a former fighter pilot, but as a Church leader, he was tenderhearted and sensitive, filled with Christlike love for his fellow servants. While I was an assistant to him, I felt that some missionaries were abusing certain privileges and taking advantage of his kindness. I suggested we create stricter rules with stronger enforcement. He said he felt it would be better to trust the missionaries to choose the right rather than doubting their intentions. From this role model, I learned to follow Joseph Smith’s advice to teach correct principles and let people govern themselves.

Matt, Joey, Isaac, and Liza had spent a whole week at Grandma and Grandpa’s house with their parents. They had played at the park, visited the river, and seen the last patches of snow melting in the mountains. They also went to a children’s museum, read books at the library, and watched a funny movie. It had been a good trip.
“Are we leaving tomorrow?” Liza asked on the last night of their vacation.
“Yes,” Mom said. “But we don’t have to leave until after lunch. Maybe we can do something fun together in the morning.”
“Shopping?” Matt asked. He was hoping to search the second-hand store for treasures.
“I have a different idea,” Mom said. She pointed out the window at the garden. Spring was almost over, but most of the things growing in the garden were weeds. Last year’s grapevines draped over a fence. One fuzzy, pale green plant had started an army of little shoots just like itself. Matt remembered that plant—lamb’s ear. He helped Grandpa choose it a few years ago.
“Don’t you think we’d have fun helping Grandma and Grandpa get their garden ready for summer?” Mom asked. Nobody said a word. “Think about all the nice things Grandma and Grandpa have done for you. Wouldn’t you like to do something kind for them? I know you’re all good workers, and they’d be thankful for your help.”
Matt didn’t think working sounded like fun, but he did want to help his grandparents.
After breakfast the next day, Grandpa gave each person a job. Mom used big clippers to trim the grapevines. Liza pulled weeds, Isaac lined up smooth stones around the edges of a new flowerbed, Joey carried weeds and grapevine trimmings to a compost pile, and Matt helped Grandpa and Dad dig up the little lamb’s ear plants so they could be planted in new places in the garden.
Soon the sun was high in the sky. “I think we’ve put in a good morning’s work,” Grandpa said.
The garden looked much different than it had earlier that morning. Matt was amazed they had done so much work.
“Everybody, go clean up for lunch,” Mom said. “After we eat it will be time to go home.”
After lunch, Mom and Dad buckled the children into the car. Grandma and Grandpa came out to say good-bye.
“Thank you for all your hard work,” Grandma said. “It would have taken us a lot longer to do it all by ourselves.”
Grandpa leaned into the car and handed Matt a big, sealed plastic bag. When Matt looked closely, he realized it was one of the small lamb’s ear plants surrounded by dirt.
“Remember when you chose that plant, Matt?” Grandpa asked. “I thought you’d like to have one for your own garden.”
Matt looked at Mom. “Can we put it in our flowerbed in the front yard?” he asked.
“Sure, Matt. Then you’ll see it every day,” Mom said.
“Awesome,” Matt said. “And every time I see it, I’ll remember working in Grandma and Grandpa’s garden.”