Gospel Story Finder

Meet Kirsten: An American Girl An ordinary nine-year-old, Kirsten uses her own resourcefulness when she gets lost in New York City the day after she arrives there from Sweden.Janet Shaw7–10 years

John woke up one morning.
John jumped out of bed.
“It’s snowing!” John yelled.
“I can use my new sled.”
John put on his coat,
His pants and socks and shoes,
And raced down the stairs
To tell Mother the news.
John ate toast and eggs,
And hurried outside.
Then John and his sled
Went to take a fast ride.
They went to a big hill
All covered with snow.
John saw many sleds
Whizzing down in a row.
As John and his new sled
Were ready to slide,
A poorly dressed boy said,
“May I please have a ride?”
John looked at the boy
Who was standing alone.
He could see that this boy
Had no sled of his own.
John thought for a minute;
He looked at his sled.
He looked at the big hill.
Then John nodded his head.
“You may ride down with me.
My sled is brand new,”
John said. “It’s a big one
And just right for two.”
They whizzed down the big hill,
Down, down, down to its end—
John, his shiny new sled,
And John’s brand-new-found friend.

Sarah Sego, 17, loves doing baptisms for the dead and can’t wait for the temple to be built so she can continue to do baptisms. “I know it’s the right thing to do, because all those people are waiting,” she says.
Sarah is also helping others to learn more about why she loves going to the temple so much. She tells her friends about the temple and even tactfully shared her testimony of temple work with her high school current events class.

I guess it was about ten years ago,
but I remember it so clearly.
I was sitting in front of my mom’s
makeup mirror at the kitchen table.
Curiously, I pulled my stringy brown hair
away from my face.
A plain reflection stared back at me.
I didn’t notice
that my dad had been watching the whole time.
He grinned and said,
“Are you trying to see the face
your Heavenly Father sees?”
At the time, I couldn’t figure out how to answer
or why he even asked me that.
But now, I don’t think he really wanted an answer.
Fathers are just like that.

CTR by always telling the truth. There is an old story about a boy who took sheep to the mountain to tend them. “If you have any trouble with wolves, just blow the horn and yell, ‘Wolf!’” said the townspeople. “We will come and help you.” The boy was bored one day and blew the horn. The townspeople came running to help, and the boy thought it was a good joke.

Two other times he needlessly called, “Wolf!” and blew the horn. Each time, the people ran to help. Then came the day when a wolf really appeared and attacked the sheep. The boy blew the horn and called and called, but the townspeople thought that he was lying again. Nobody went to help, and many sheep were killed. Lying hurts you not only because of the direct harm it may cause you and others, but also because people will hesitate to trust you again. Always tell the truth.

Back then tithing was paid to the bishop’s storehouse, sometimes in kind, meaning eggs, wheat, or other farm produce. During 1908, when Franklin was only eight years old, he paid $7.50 in tithing on earnings of $75.00. He still has the bishop’s storehouse receipt. In those days $75.00 was a lot of money. It represented a lot of hard work.

I once asked Dad if I would see an angel. He said that he didn’t know, but he hoped so. “They’re all around us, you know.”
Well, I saw one last Sunday, I think.
Before I tell you about it, though, I need to explain something. Sometimes Sundays are hard for me. I don’t understand much of what happens in sacrament meetings, and since my feet don’t touch the floor, my legs hurt from hanging over the bench. I think that parents ought to sit on giant chairs every week, dangling their legs above the ground while listening to someone speaking in a foreign language, so that they understand what it’s like.
Last Sunday was hard. Sacrament meeting had seemed extra long, and the baby behind us cried a lot. By the time I got to Sharing Time, I just wanted to go home to my pet caterpillar, Zipper. Jimmy Pasko and Fred Grey didn’t help, either. They kept talking to me about the movie they had seen on Saturday. It sounded a lot more interesting than Sharing Time.
I kept moving around on my chair, trying to get my legs to quit hurting. Finally I leaned my chair back against the wall and stretched my arms. It was an accident, but I hit the light switch, and all the lights turned off. A lot of the kids laughed. I quickly turned them back on. Then, for some reason, I flipped them off again—but that time it was on purpose.
That’s when the angel came,
I didn’t think she was an angel at first. She looked more like an upset Sister Eisen of the Primary presidency. She came from the front of the room, staring at me with wide blue eyes. She looked like Mom does when she has a headache and I’m pestering her.
Sister Eisen bent down and whispered, “Dan, let’s go outside for a moment.”
I thought that she would talk to me about being reverent and threaten to get my parents if I didn’t behave. But instead, after we left the room, she calmly asked, “Dan, how are you doing?”
I didn’t feel safe, so I shrugged my shoulders.
“Having a hard time today?” she asked then, still calm.
Feeling safer, I said, “I hate it in there. Sometimes I just hate Primary.” After I said it, I thought I had made a mistake. I was sure that she would talk to me about my attitude.
But she surprised me. She said, “Tell me why you hate it.”
I thought for a moment, then decided to tell her the complete truth. “My legs hurt from dangling over the seat in sacrament meeting, I didn’t understand what the speakers said, my chair is hard, it’s hot and noisy in the Primary room, I’m tired of sitting, Jimmy and Fred keep talking to me, and I wish I were somewhere else.”
Then she said, half smiling, “I know. Sometimes I wish that I were somewhere else too. So, what do you need to do, Dan?”
“I just need to walk around.”
“Do you need a drink?”
I thought for a second, then said, “No, not now. Just a walk.”
“How far?”
“Just to the end of the hall.”
She said, “OK. May I walk with you?”
“Sure,” I said. We started walking, but I stopped. I looked at her and said, “Sometimes you hate it here too?”
“Well,” she answered, “let’s say that sometimes I have a hard time being here.”
“Then why are you here? You’re a grown-up. No one makes you come.”
“Because,” she said, “it’s OK to do something we don’t like, especially when we know that it’s right.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked at me for a moment. “Dan, do you remember what happened at the end of Jesus’ life?”
“You mean when they nailed Him on the cross?”
“Yes. And even before that do you remember when He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane and it was so painful that He bled from every pore?”
I told her I remembered that and also that they whipped Him and made fun of Him.
She then said, “You know, I don’t think that He liked doing any of those things. But He did it because He loved us and He knew that it was right. Did you know that He even asked Heavenly Father if there wasn’t another way?”
She paused, putting her hand on my shoulder. “So I figure that if He didn’t like doing hard things that were right, it’s OK if I don’t like doing hard things that are right. And it’s OK if you don’t like doing hard things, like being reverent in Sharing Time when you’re hot and tired.”
I noticed as she was talking that she kept putting her fingers on the side of her head. So I asked, “Is it hard for you today?”
“Yes,” she said. “I have a bad headache.”
I stood there for a moment, feeling very different than I had ever felt about Primary. I looked at Sister Eisen and said, “I don’t think I need to walk any farther. I can go back in now.”
She told me that she was glad, and we returned. Before we went in, she said, “You know, Dan, I really like you.”
I told her that most people did after they knew me.
She went to the front of the Primary room, and I sat down in my chair. After she sat down, she looked at me and smiled. Then she touched her fingers to both sides of her head, like Mom does when she has a headache, and winked.
Although my chair still felt hard, the room was still too hot, and Jimmy and Fred still kept trying to talk to me, I didn’t mind so much. I wondered as I watched Sister Eisen if Dad had been talking about her when he said that angels are all around us. I think I’ll tell him that I saw one last Sunday—and that she had a headache.

We relocated our growing family to Australia and then, in September 2017, our family was sealed, for time and all eternity in the Melbourne Australia Temple. It was a powerful experience; one we will cherish forever.

With hearts bursting with love for our newly sealed family, how could we know Heavenly Father had yet another miracle surprise for us?

Imagine my shocked delight only three months later when we discovered I was pregnant. How could this be? We double checked the home pregnancy test—positive! We took two tests just to make sure. We both wept. I know the Lord was with me through every step of that pregnancy. I felt the love and strength of my parents, from the other side of the veil, assuring me that everything would be fine.

In the early hours of 12 August 2018, our precious little girl was born. My husband named her after his mother—Faaifomailelagi, which in Samoan means ‘sent from heaven’.

Nearly 40 years ago as I contemplated the challenge of a mission, I felt very inadequate and unprepared. I remember praying, “Heavenly Father, how can I serve a mission when I know so little?” I believed in the Church, but I felt my spiritual knowledge was very limited. As I prayed, the feeling came: “You don’t know everything, but you know enough!” That reassurance gave me the courage to take the next step into the mission field.

A wise leader recently counseled a man who was trying to overcome years of destructive choices. The man felt ashamed, doubting that he was worthy of anyone’s love.
His leader said to him, “The Lord knows you, loves you, and is pleased [with] you and the courageous steps you are taking.” But then he added, “[You] need to hear the commandment to love yourself so you can feel [God’s] love and love others.”
When this brother heard that counsel, he saw life with new eyes. He later said, “I have spent my whole life trying to find peace and acceptance. I have looked for those things in many wrong places. Only in the love of Heavenly Father and the Savior can I find comfort. I know They want me to love myself; it really is the only way I can feel Their love for me.”

Over spring break, I got to talk with my sister who is serving her mission in the Idaho Idaho Falls Mission. I told her that track was about to start and how excited I was. I told her how badly I wanted to beat the school record for the 1600-meter and 800-meter races.
“I probably won’t be able to. The record time is pretty fast,” I told my sister. The school record did seem impossible. I started thinking about the one girl I had never been able to beat. Maybe trying to keep up with her or even beating her would be a better goal.
My sister did not answer right away, but she seemed to be smiling through the phone. “I know I’m a missionary,” she said. “So you might expect me to give you some kind of a challenge, but I really want you to try something. I want you to try to read your scriptures and pray every day. And if you do, God will bless you to do your best.”
“I’ll try,” I said. I had not really been reading my scriptures every night, and I wasn’t quite sure if, or how, reading would help me run.
The next few nights I read, prayed, and went to bed without really thinking about it. One night as I was brushing my teeth, I thought, “I’m not really getting anything out of reading the scriptures.” Then I remembered President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to read the whole Book of Mormon and mark all references to Jesus Christ (see “Sisters’ Participation in the Gathering of Israel,” Oct. 2018 general conference [Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2018, 69–70]). So I started to mark the references to Christ as I read. I began to get more out of reading and to truly ponder the scriptures.
After 15 consecutive days of reading and praying every night, I had my first track meet. And I was super nervous. My first race was the 4x800-meter run. I was the anchor runner. When I started running the last leg, my team was in 7th place out of 10 teams. We finished in 3rd place. Had I gotten faster?
While I was waiting for the mile, I watched all the other races and prayed that I would do well. When we walked to the starting line, my heart was beating so fast I thought it would jump out of my chest. I prayed again and felt peace. We were all lined up, and I had a flashback from all the mile races I had run in the year before. I would be in first place the whole race, unsure if my pace was fast enough to beat the record. Then on the final stretch, I would get discouraged when a certain girl from another school would sprint ahead of me and take first place. So I decided to try to do that myself this time.
As the gun went off, I went straight behind the girl from the year before. We were in first and second place. My coach was at the 200-meter mark, and she told me my time and encouraged me. I wanted to run up ahead, but I knew that she would pass me on the last stretch if I did. She kept looking back at me like she was afraid of me.
On the last lap, I could hear the girl who was in third place trying to pass both of us. So I bolted. I ran as fast as I could. There were so many people cheering—my parents, teammates, and friends’ parents.
When I passed the finish line, the first thing that came to my mind was, “Did I do it?” Then I turned and saw everyone else finish. Then I looked toward the girl I hadn’t been able to beat before. Her eyes were big when she said, “Man, you got so much faster.” I had won!
I was so happy. I couldn’t believe I had actually done it! Then I realized that I hadn’t done it alone. I said a quick prayer to thank Heavenly Father. Taking my sister’s challenge helped me to be better at studying the scriptures. And I had a better relationship with Heavenly Father. I had also been able to get faster and smarter about my running. Heavenly Father listens to our prayers. And if we do our part and have faith, He will answer them.
The author lives in Missouri, USA.

After we left the venue, I could see the love and joy my daughter, Angel, had towards President Nelson—and she asked me what the prophet had said to me. I told her, “The prophet loves you children. He said we, your parents, should love you and not give corporal punishment. But you also need to be obedient so we, your parents, will be able to obey the prophet!”

It is like Brigham Young, the second prophet, seer, and revelator of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, when he was converted just through the testimony of a man named Eleazer Miller, who—without eloquence and talents for public speaking—had simply borne his testimony by saying, “I know, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that the Book of Mormon is true” (see Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Brigham Young [1997], 315).
The greatest blessing that Brigham Young received from the testimony of the man without eloquence was—and I quote his own words: “The Holy Ghost proceeding from that individual illuminate[d] my understanding, and light, glory, and immortality [were] before me. I was encircled by them, filled with them, and I knew for myself that the testimony of the man was true” (see Teachings: Brigham Young, 3).

When I reflect on the race of life, I remember another type of race, even from childhood days. My friends and I would take pocketknives in hand and, from the soft wood of a willow tree, fashion small toy boats. With a triangular-shaped cotton sail in place, each would launch his crude craft in the race down the relatively turbulent waters of Utah’s Provo River. We would run along the river’s bank and watch the tiny vessels sometimes bobbing violently in the swift current and at other times sailing serenely as the water deepened.

During a particular race we noted that one boat led all the rest toward the appointed finish line. Suddenly, the current carried it too close to a large whirlpool, and the boat heaved to its side and capsized. Around and around it was carried, unable to make its way back into the main current. At last it came to an uneasy rest amid the flotsam and jetsam that surrounded it, held fast by the tentacles of the grasping green moss.

Faith was also the moving power behind Brigham Young. I often reflect on the tremendous faith he exercised in bringing a very large number of people to settle this Salt Lake Valley. He knew very little of the area. He had never seen it, except in vision. I suppose he had studied what meager information there was, but he knew almost nothing of the soil or the water or the climate. And yet when he looked upon it, he said without hesitation, “This is the right place, drive on” (B. H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, 3:224).

After his tooth was chipped when he was attacked by a mob in 1832, Joseph spoke with a lisp.3

A true story from Kenya.
Kelvin carefully stacked the shiny glass milk bottles on the shelf. He had recently moved to live with his grandparents in a village outside the city. They owned a milk shop, and Kelvin liked helping.
“Tonight we are going to an activity at our church,” Ghuka (Grandpa) said. “Want to come with us? It will be fun.”
Kelvin liked having fun. “Yes!” he said. “I’ll go with you.”
After they closed the shop, Kelvin and his grandparents walked to the activity. They passed other shops selling fabrics, fruit, and potted plants. After a while, they reached the church.
Kelvin stood wide-eyed as he looked at the beautiful building. He had never seen a church like this before. Most churches had a cross at the top, but this one didn’t.
Inside, Kelvin’s grandparents introduced him to lots of nice people. They ate yummy food and played games.
But Kelvin was curious. So he wandered the halls of the church. He saw paintings of Jesus Christ. Then he walked into a classroom and noticed some photographs on the wall.
Who are those people? Kelvin wondered.
After he left the room, he saw two young men in the hall. They were wearing white shirts and ties. “Hi,” one of them said. “We’re missionaries. What’s your name?”
Kelvin introduced himself. Then he asked, “Who is the man in that picture?” He pointed back to one of the photos in the room.
“That’s the prophet,” the other missionary said. “Do you know what a prophet is?”
Kelvin smiled and shook his head no.
“A prophet is a messenger from God,” said the missionary. “He teaches us what God wants us to know.”
When Kelvin walked home with his grandparents that night, he was holding a copy of the Book of Mormon that the missionaries had given to him. He was excited to learn more about prophets and this new church.
“Will you read to us?” Ghuka asked when they got home. Kelvin’s grandparents didn’t know how to read.
“Yes!” Kelvin said. He opened the Book of Mormon and read out loud. He didn’t understand all the words, but he felt something special.
On Sunday, Kelvin walked with his grandparents back to church. He went to a class for all the kids. It was called Primary. He made so many friends! He learned more about prophets and Jesus.
The missionaries came to teach Kelvin more. One day they asked him a question. “Will you follow the Savior’s example and be baptized?”
Kelvin smiled big. “Yes!”
On the day of his baptism, Kelvin stepped into the water. It was chilly. But as Kelvin looked around him, he saw his grandparents, the missionaries, and all his new friends from church. He felt so loved!
By choosing to follow Jesus Christ, Kelvin was a pioneer in his family. He couldn’t wait to keep following Him—and to help others follow Him too!
When he grew up, Kelvin served a mission in his home country.
Today, Kelvin attends college through BYU–Pathway Worldwide.
Kelvin enjoys watching movies and reading.
Illustrations by Kristin Sorra

There was a boy who was being mean at school. I talked about it with my family. I prayed to Heavenly Father for the boy to find friends and to stop bullying. We soon became friends!
Matias M., age 7, Lithuania

When Steve was fifteen, his nine-year-old brother, Brian, became his shadow. Like many younger brothers, Brian was curious about his older brother’s world and wanted to be a part of it. Steve resented having a tag-along. Teasing Brian, running away from him, and calling him names didn’t solve anything. Brian was too persistent.

Steve worked out this problem accidently. His family went on vacation. Lacking older companions, he was forced to spend time with just Brian, doing activities Brian could do. He taught him how to turn his mitt the right way when catching a ball, how to put a worm on a hook, how to break the water with his hands when diving. It was this type of participation Brian really wanted in the first place.

Back home, when Steve was busy, he could peacefully do things without Brian by promising to spend time with him later. Steve realized his little brother’s needs could not be changed; but he learned to adapt to and deal with them in a way that made both brothers happier. Brian, also, seemed to understand that there were things which Steve did that he could not yet do.

It is wrong to assume your brother already knows you love him so you don’t need to tell him. Let your love be shown by good deeds; however, let it also be expressed verbally. The most important thing Jenny learned was how to say, “David, I love you.” Even Steve, afraid of sounding “corny” at first, found that reminding Brian that he loved him made it easier to get along. “The more time I spent alone with him, the easier it was to say,” Brian says.

Fear. That pretty much sums up what I felt as I shuffled my feet and tried to avoid the soul-searching gazes of my parents. They weren’t going to like what I had to tell them at all.
I had just returned home for Thanksgiving from my first semester of college. I was telling my parents about my college experiences and new friends. But what started as an enjoyable conversation quickly turned uncomfortable when my mom casually asked the question I had been dreading: “So, how are your grades?”
Frantically, my mind began to dig for lame excuses that might help me out of the mess I was in. How had I let my grades slip so far? I had arrived at college with every intention of studying hard and doing well. But then I discovered that for the first time in my life, no one was looking over my shoulder telling me what to do. Parents that were 400 miles away meant no curfew, no chores, and no rules. I took advantage of this newfound freedom and was quickly in the habit of staying up late at night with my roommates. My life was filled with late-night movies, late-night trips to get ice cream, and late-night talks and games with roommates.
After this late-night fun, I was in no mood to wake up for early-morning classes. When my alarm blared at 6:30 a.m., I would hit the trusty snooze button and burrow deeper under the covers. I missed class a lot, but what did it matter—college teachers didn’t take roll anyway.
All of this explained why I was now sitting in front of my parents, shuffling my feet and afraid to meet their gaze. Instead of asking for forgiveness like I should have, I chose to get angry. I looked my parents in the eyes and said defiantly: “My grades aren’t good right now. But I think it’s unfair of both of you to expect me to spend all of my time at college studying. Are you trying to keep me from having fun?”
My mom looked at me and said, “It was really hard for us when you left home, but we let you go because we knew you needed an education. It’s good to have fun, but you have to remember you are at college for a specific purpose. We have sacrificed a lot so that you can have this experience.”
“Sacrifices? What sacrifices have they given up so I can go to college?” I wondered. And then I remembered. They had agreed to pay half of my tuition. Checks from my mom always arrived in the nick of time to help me meet my monthly rent payment. They were willing to let me leave and go to a strange new place because they knew I would learn from it.
As I listed the sacrifices in my mind one by one, it suddenly hit me—I had been selfish. Not once as I stayed out late or skipped class had I thought about what my parents had given up. I had forgotten what was important, and I was wasting their sacrifice because I wasn’t making the most of my education.
For the first time, I realized just what they had done for me, and I knew I could only make the most of the things they had given up for me by working hard in school.
It wasn’t until later that day that I heard it: a still, small voice in my mind that asked a simple question, “Are you discarding the sacrifice that your Heavenly Father made in allowing His Son to suffer and die to atone for your sins, just as you have been discarding the sacrifice of your earthly parents?”
Suddenly, I remembered all of the days when I had forgotten my purpose on earth. The days when I fell into bed, too tired to say my prayers, and the mornings when I didn’t read my scriptures because I thought it was more important to look nice for school.
It dawned on me that I wasn’t living on earth just to entertain myself. I was here as part of Heavenly Father’s great plan of happiness. The Savior’s sacrifice—the Atonement—was made so that you and I, and all of God’s children, could learn the lessons of earth life. Because of that sacrifice, we have the opportunity to repent and return to live with Heavenly Father again. I want to be able to say that I used my time on earth to learn and grow as He intended.