Gospel Story Finder

Waiting upon the Lord can be a sacred place—a place of polishing and refining where we can come to know the Savior in a deeply personal way. Waiting upon the Lord may also be a place where we find ourselves asking, “O God, where art thou?”—a place where spiritual perseverance requires us to exercise faith in Christ by intentionally choosing Him again and again and again. I know this place, and I understand this type of waiting.
I spent countless hours at a cancer treatment facility, united in my suffering with many who were yearning to be healed. Some lived; others did not. I learned in a profound way that deliverance from our trials is different for each of us, and therefore our focus should be less about the way in which we are delivered and more about the Deliverer Himself. Our emphasis should always be on Jesus Christ!

Many other spiritual manifestations took place in the temple that year. Prescindia Huntington described how a little girl came to her door during one meeting and called out in excitement, “The meeting is on top of the meeting house!” Prescindia looked outside and saw angels walking back and forth on the temple. Many children in Kirtland saw the angels and remembered that glorious sight the rest of their lives.

Wellington held a box in his lap as his dad drove through Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. They passed bright blue, green, and yellow houses. Dad parked the car outside of a big brown building. Wellington got out and grabbed some more boxes. They were full of soap, tissues, and other supplies.
He and his dad were visiting a care home to give supplies to the elderly people who lived there. At first, Wellington had been excited. But now he felt a little nervous. What would the people there be like? Would they be grouchy? What would he say to them?
Wellington walked into the building behind his dad. There were lots of people in the rest home. Some were moving around with walkers. Some sat in wheelchairs, playing chess. Others just sat alone.
Wellington tugged on Dad’s arm. “Dad, I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “Everyone here is so much older than I am! How do I talk to them?”
Dad smiled and knelt down next to Wellington. “I know the people here are older, and they might look a little different. But everyone here is a child of God, just like you! They probably have some interesting stories to tell.”
Wellington thought about that. He liked making new friends with other kids at school and at Primary. Maybe he could make friends here too!
While Dad handed out boxes, Wellington went around and talked to the people sitting in the room. He sang some of his favorite Primary songs to them. Soon lots of people were laughing and singing together. This was so much fun!
Wellington looked around. He noticed a lady sitting alone on a couch. She had gray hair and lots of wrinkles.
He walked over to her and sat down on the couch. “Hi!” he said. “My name’s Wellington. What’s yours?”
She looked at him and smiled. “I’m Mariana,” she said.
Wellington was nervous, so he asked the first question he could think of. “What’s your favorite food?”
She thought for a second. “I’ve always loved pão de queijo,” she said.
“That’s my favorite too!” said Wellington. He loved the small cheesy rolls.
They started to talk about their favorite songs, sports, and memories. Mariana told him about the fun things she used to do when she was a kid.
“Thank you for coming here today,” she said. “I don’t have any family who can come and visit me, and it can be hard to make new friends.” Mariana’s eyes got sad. “Sometimes I feel all alone.”
Wellington wasn’t sure what to say. He thought about how sad he would be if he didn’t have friends or family to talk to. Then he thought about what his dad said about everyone here being a child of God.
He smiled and looked at Mariana. “When I’m lonely, I like to pray to Heavenly Father. He helps me feel better. I know that I’m never alone because I can always talk to Him. Maybe you could try praying too.”
Mariana smiled and hugged Wellington. “Thank you. I think that’s a great idea.”
Soon Dad came up to Wellington and tapped him on the arm. “Time to go,” he said.
“Already?” said Wellington.
Dad laughed. “Don’t worry. We can come back next week.”
That made Wellington happy. He hopped off the couch. “See you next time!” he told Mariana.
He smiled as he waved goodbye to his new friend. He couldn’t wait to come back!

Fashion Statement
My troop and I made these cool leather ID bracelets for kids who have just found out they have diabetes. We donated them to the hospital.

Fourth and finally, may I remind you that you cannot give yourself poor in this work; you can only give yourself rich. I have satisfied myself regarding the truthfulness of the statement made to me by Elder Melvin J. Ballard as he set me apart for my mission in 1920: “A person cannot give a crust to the Lord without receiving a loaf in return.”

One day I hope to meet the Savior and he may well ask me why I was the agent of sorrow for my brethren and for him. What shall I say? “I was caused to do it. I got off to a bad start. My brothers beat up on my sisters and my sisters beat up on me and we didn’t even have a dog. I had acne when I was a kid and couldn’t get a date. My parents were so poor that they couldn’t send me to college, so I had to work at a menial job. I could never get myself called to a leadership position in the Church. Other people inflicted trouble upon me. I only passed on the sorrows.”
What will the Savior say to me? I think he will say, “Each of us had cause to do harm to others and I more than anyone, for I suffered more than anyone. But I expected more of you, my son. I expected you to return good for evil. I expected you to lay your life upon the altar, not of Satan’s program for the destiny of men, but of mine.”

Elder Brown shared that he joined the Church in Jamaica. His friends asked, “How could you join that church? Do you really believe all that?” But he had gained a testimony from the Holy Ghost, and he stayed true to his testimony. When we choose to believe, our testimonies will grow.

“Of course, Maman (Mama)!” Louis said. “First I will take the socks you knitted to Monsieur Dubois, then I will meet my friends.” Louis looked at the clock. He still had plenty of time. The puppet show did not start for another hour.
“Here!” His mother handed Louis a small, brightly wrapped package. “And remember to wish Monsieur Dubois Joyeux Noël (Merry Christmas) and invite him again to have Christmas dinner with us.”
“He will not come, Maman. He will just smile and say that Christmas is a time for families as he does every year.”
“Too bad! Nothing is as sad as being old and alone at Christmastime. I do wish we could make him understand that our Christmas would be happier if we could share it with him.” Louis nodded politely, though he did not think that he would be any happier if Monsieur Dubois came for dinner. Christmas was perfect for Louis, just as it was.
“Hurry home as soon as the show is over, Louis. Grandpère (Grandfather) will be arriving soon.”
Louis smiled excitedly. “Do you think that Grandpère has finished my music box?”
“Perhaps,” his mother answered, “but do not ask him. He is always busy, and making a music box takes a long time.”
Louis was very proud of his grandfather, a fine craftsman who owned a shop in the city, where he repaired watches and clocks. In his spare time he had been making a music box for Louis, one that would play “La Marseillaise” (French national anthem).
Louis hurried to meet his friends. He decided to take the gift to Monsieur Dubois after the puppet show. He hastily stuffed the package into his pocket. His mother would not mind when he explained what he had done.
When the show was over, the children did not stop to visit with each other as they usually did. Christmas Eve was a special time, and they were all eager to get home. Outside, Louis talked for just a moment with the other boys. Then he remembered Monsieur Dubois and felt in his pocket. His eyes widened in distress. “The gift for Monsieur Dubois is gone!” he cried.
One after another Louis turned his pockets inside out. Followed by his friends, he ran back inside the hall where the puppet show had been. They searched the cloakroom, then the hall, looking up and down the aisles and beneath the seats. The package was not there.
“Maman will be angry and disappointed in me!” Louis said. “Even if I don’t tell her, I’m sure she will find out,” Louis said sadly.
When Louis got home, Grandpère had just arrived from the city, and Maman was smiling and hurrying about. Louis’s heart rose. He was lucky; he had only to remain silent. Maman was much too busy now to ask him about Monsieur Dubois.
His grandfather placed a hand on Louis’s shoulder. “Ah, how you have grown, mon petit (my little one)!” His dark eyes twinkled. “I have a surprise for you.”
“The music box!” Louis cried.
“Close your eyes,” Grandpère said.
Louis obeyed, smiling.
“Now!” Grandpère cried.
“La Marseillaise” tinkled and chimed from a small, beautifully carved music box, and—wonder of wonders—two tiny soldiers moved in a slow circle on top of the box.
Louis clapped his hands. “It’s wonderful, Grandpère! I have never had so fine a gift. No one in the world has so kind a grandpère as I.”
Grandpère’s eyes were bright. “And without you, my grandson, and your mother and father, I would be a lonely old man.”
Louis swallowed uncomfortably, for suddenly he saw the face of Monsieur Dubois, who had no one. All that evening, try as he might, he could not get the thought of the lonely old man out of his mind—not even when he placed his shoes before the fireplace so that Père Noël (Father Christmas) [Santa Claus] could put a gift or two in them. And when Louis awakened before daylight on Christmas morning, his first thoughts were of Monsieur Dubois. His heart was heavy. Even the music box on the table beside his bed did not help.
Suddenly Louis knew what he must do. He must take Monsieur Dubois a gift, a very fine gift, so that the old man would know that he was not forgotten at Christmas. He must go at once and be back before his parents and grandfather awakened.
As he dressed, Louis forced back a feeling of sadness. The music box was the only gift that he had that was fine enough for Monsieur Dubois.
It was still dark outside, and Louis had to ring several times before Monsieur Dubois opened the door.
“Joyeux Noël, Louis!” Monsieur Dubois greeted him. “Come in! Come in! You are early this morning.”
“Joyeux Noël, Monsieur.” Louis smiled. “I—I was supposed to bring your gift yesterday, but I have brought it for you today, instead.”
Louis wound the music box and placed it on the table. He stood back, listening to the tinkling music and watching the proud little soldiers. “Is it not beautiful!”
“Yes, Louis, very beautiful.” Monsieur Dubois’s eyes were thoughtful. “Now tell me, Louis, why did you bring me one of your gifts?”
Louis hung his head.
“Come, Louis. Tell me,” Monsieur Dubois insisted, smiling kindly.
Before he realized it, Louis told the whole story. “I—I’m sorry, Monsieur,” he finished. “I hoped that the music box was a fine enough gift to make up for my carelessness.”
“It is the finest gift that I have ever received, Louis,” Monsieur Dubois said softly. “But I want you to keep it for me. Each Christmas bring it here, and we will play it together.”
Louis’s face cleared. “You are not angry, Monsieur?”
“No, Louis. I am not angry.”
“And you will have Christmas dinner with us? Please, Monsieur!” Louis pleaded. “Our Christmas will be happier if we can share it with you,” Louis said, repeating his mother’s words. And, strangely, they were no longer just words. Now he understood them. Monsieur Dubois seemed to understand, too, for his face brightened like a Christmas candle.
“Wait for me, Louis,” he cried. “I will put on my finest suit.” Then Monsieur Dubois laughed. “Today, Louis, you and I have both learned something important. We have learned the real meaning of Christmas.”

An elder from Mexico happily showed me a picture of his family. “Look,” he said, “my father saved for two months to buy me these shoes. My branch contributed money so I could have this suit.” They both described their missions as a privilege. One elder arrived from Samoa. When he introduced himself for the first time he walked to the front of the congregation holding up a copy of the Book of Mormon. He said, “I am here because this book is true.” He was one of fifteen children. He had been told by his father before leaving home that other men, Church leaders, would be his father for the next few years. He was to obey them. He thought his mission was a great privilege.

I’m a recent convert to the Church, and I received my first issue of the New Era today. This magazine is so interesting that I even read it all today. I especially liked the article “The Turn Around” (Apr. 1998) about the two girls who helped their friend join the Church. I hope that someday I’ll be able to see one of my friends get baptized. Thank you so much for making a magazine like the New Era. I look forward to receiving it each month.
Sylvia IrizarryLa Vista, Piedras, Puerto Rico

Hayley: It’s not always easy to take the time to record. I might be feeling bad about something in my life, but then I go to read and I realize I am doing something for someone else. I immediately feel better. It’s uplifting.

In conclusion may I leave you a story. It is fiction, but in principle it is true. Can you imagine two young people at a time when the moon is full and the roses are in bloom and a sacred love has matured between them? Johnny says to Mary, “Mary, I love you. I want you for my wife and the mother of our children. But I don’t want you or them forever. Just for a season and then goodbye.” And she, looking at him through tears in the moonlight, says, “Johnny, you’re wonderful. There’s nobody else in all the world like you. I love you, and I want you for my husband and the father of our children, but only for a time, and then farewell.”
That sounds foolish, doesn’t it? And yet isn’t that in effect what a boy says to a girl and a girl says to a boy in a proposal of marriage when given the opportunity of eternal union under “the new and everlasting covenant,” but, rather, they choose to set it aside for a substitute that can last only until death comes.

It’s time for another family gathering in Hooper, Utah. All the cousins scramble onto the big hay wagon, drawn by a team of Grandpa Parker’s Clydesdale horses, for a ride around the small farming community. During the ride Grandpa says, “This isn’t much different from the way the pioneers traveled across the plains.” The children smile because they know that Grandpa’s bay horses aren’t much like oxen.

Now the horses are ready to take the family for a ride. They trot as though they love to pull in their harnesses, and they are lucky to have someone who loves to train them.

After an enjoyable ride over to the park and back, Grandpa pulls on the right rein for the horses to turn into the area by the corral where he can unhitch them by reversing the harnessing process.

The children slide off the wagon, already looking forward to the next time that they come for a visit to Grandpa’s farm. It was a fun ride, but they are glad that they don’t have to ride on a wagon day after day or walk all the way across the plains as many pioneers did.

Elder Utai, 20, Argentina Salta Mission
Whenever I feel clueless in making decisions, I turn to my patriarchal blessing and ponder its divine revelation. And then deciding becomes easy. It not only helps me endure my earthly life and reap promised blessings, but it also reminds me of preparing myself to worthily enter the Lord’s kingdom someday. It continually helps me grow in faith, trust in the Lord’s will, and live with an eternal perspective.

4. Tell the children the story of the first pioneer company to cross the plains from Winter Quarters to the Salt Lake Valley. Explain that the prophet Brigham Young led the first pioneers to the valley where the Lord wanted them to make their homes. As the pioneers followed the prophet to the valley, they marked the trail for other Saints to follow. The prophet continues to lead us today by teaching us the things we should do in order to return to our Father in Heaven.

One Sunday morning at church, in the rented meeting hall where our branch met, I overheard a conversation about a name that sounded familiar. Someone mentioned a man named President Gurr, the former branch president. I asked about him and learned that he and his family had moved to Idaho a few years earlier. His daughters were the girls I remembered from school. Even though I hadn’t known either of them well, their example of strength and courage had impressed me. They had truly shone forth by choosing to be true to their religion and living righteously.

First known as “The Tyrolese Song,” it was introduced to the world by four children—two sisters and two brothers—who went to Leipzig one year and sang it so beautifully that the music director of the Kingdom of Saxony asked them to sing the carol at a concert.

Doe Kaku at the time of her conversion to the Church and today with her husband, Anthony.
Thirty years ago in Ghana, a young college student named Doe stepped inside an LDS meetinghouse for the first time. A friend had invited Doe to come with her, and Doe was curious to know what the Church was like.
The people there were so nice and warm that she couldn’t help but wonder, “What kind of church is this?”
Doe felt so impressed that she decided to learn more about the Church and its people, who were filled with so much joy. But as soon as she began doing so, well-meaning family and friends began to oppose her at every turn. They said terrible things about the Church and did all they could to dissuade her.
But Doe had received a testimony.
She had faith, and she loved the gospel, which was filling her life with joy. And so, she entered the waters of baptism.
Afterward, she immersed herself in study and prayer. She fasted and sought the influence of the Holy Ghost in her life. As a result, Doe’s testimony and faith grew stronger and deeper. Eventually she decided to serve a full-time mission for the Lord.
After returning from her mission, she dated and married a returned missionary—the very one who had baptized her years earlier—and they were later sealed in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.
Many years have passed since Doe Kaku first experienced the joy of the gospel of Jesus Christ. During that time, life has not always been sweet for her. She has endured her share of heartbreak and despair, including the loss of two children—the deep grief of those experiences still weighs heavily upon her heart.
But she and her husband, Anthony, have striven to draw close to each other and to their beloved Heavenly Father, whom they love with all their heart.
Today, 30 years after she entered the waters of baptism, Sister Kaku recently completed another full-time mission—this time together with her husband, who served as a mission president in Nigeria.
Those who know Sister Kaku say there is something special about her. She glows. It’s hard to spend time with her without feeling happier yourself.
Her testimony is certain: “I know that the Savior sees me as His daughter and friend (see Mosiah 5:7; Ether 3:14),” she says. “And I am learning and trying so hard to be His friend too—not only by what I say but also by what I do.”
Sister Kaku’s story is similar to that of many others. She had a desire to know the truth, she paid the price to gain spiritual light, she demonstrated her love for God and her fellowman, and along the way she experienced hardships and sorrow.
But no matter the opposition, no matter the sorrow, she kept moving forward in faith. And just as important, she kept her joy. She found a way not only to endure the hardships of life but also to thrive despite them!
Her story is similar to yours and mine.

It was Sunday, November 9, 1975, in Bountiful, Utah. The chapel was filled, and the doors into the overflow were opened. The echo of sliding chairs being set up in the cultural hall could be heard above the prelude music. It was because so many friends and family had come to rejoice with Elder Thorne in his sacred call from a prophet of the Lord—a call to serve for two years as a special witness for Christ to his brothers and sisters in Argentina. Just before the music stopped, Elder Thorne and his parents left the door where they had been shaking hands and made their way to the stand. All eyes were on them as they took the remaining seats just behind the pulpit. It was easy from where I sat to look over the audience and locate his proud grandmother and grandfather. This was an occasion for the entire family; they were all a part of this special event. His four younger brothers were smiling, probably because they would get to expand into Gale’s room as soon as he entered the mission home, or maybe because they anticipated how they would feel in just a few short years when they would respond to the call of a prophet.
In this setting I recalled the words of President Spencer W. Kimball:
“The gospel must go to all the world, to every creature, every clime, every people, every soul. It calls for an ‘all-out’ effort. This appeal is not for the rich nor for the poor, for the successful or the intelligentsia, but to every heart and mind in the world, to every corner of the earth. We are still far from our goal.”
This call to arms was given by a living prophet. He further stated, “We call for more missionaries, but we want more worthy missionaries and more able missionaries.” (Regional Representatives Seminar, October 2, 1975.)
I observed, in this large audience, an unusual number of young girls, many of them visitors to our ward. They brought with them the excitement and enthusiasm of youth. Their very presence added to the beauty and importance of the occasion. Among them I spotted the plain, the confident, the bashful; but common to each was the radiant, youthful expression of anticipation and commitment. I studied the expressions on the faces of several of these young women and followed their gaze resting upon Elder Thorne—the dark suit, the white shirt with the conservative tie, and the little-shorter-than-usual haircut.
The young women and young men in the audience represented a circle of friends bursting with pride and sharing the honor of one of their number. It was not hard to believe that in the heart of each one were the words, “I’ll go where you want me to go, and I’ll do what you want me to do.”
Since the girls were sitting in groups of twos and threes and fours, it appeared evident they were not competitors seeking the missionary’s attention. It was obvious that they too were part of the “all-out” effort spoken of by the prophet.
But what part did they play? What had their influence been in Elder Thorne’s preparation? In his closing remarks I began to sense the powerful influence friends had had on this young man who was spiritually mature beyond his years. After expressing gratitude for family and loved ones, and before his final testimony, he grasped the pulpit on either side and leaned forward. He dropped his head just a moment. Then, looking up, he quietly said, “And I give thanks to all my friends, especially you girls in the audience who have kept the standards and encouraged me to do the same.” His voice deepened as he continued, “Thank you for your influence that has helped me prepare for a mission.”
After the closing prayer there seemed to be a spontaneous gravitation as young men and women from all parts of the building quietly, with increasing power, moved forward until they encircled their young missionary friend. Without accompaniment their voices united in singing “God be with you till we meet again” like a prayer to heaven from the voices of living angels. The tears flowed freely from the eyes of these youth who had played a very vital part in helping to build a more worthy and a more able missionary.
In that moment I witnessed a power of love and support from friends that would serve as a reservoir of strength to each one of them in the days to come.

Events of the next few days and nights, however, seemed to negate that prophecy. Storms struck again: “strong gale; great swell on the water; ship rolling very much; many of the passengers sick. … Things rolling about.” Outside the elements were at war, but within the Spirit was at work. After one preaching meeting where “Brother Finch gave a brief and lucid explanation of the first principles,” five converts were baptized. On April 1, the unfavorable winds continued, but at a testimony meeting, which many sailors attended, three more baptisms occurred, including the ship’s carpenter, the first crew member to convert. The next day found food rations reduced. But that evening three more sailors and one passenger were baptized at the testimony meeting.

How is someone baptized aboard a sailing vessel? Sometimes large barrels filled with salt water or a platform improvised by the side of the ship were used. On the International, according to one who was baptized there, the ordinance was performed on deck “in a large round vat holding probably 2,000 gallons of water.” Why the vat was on board we can only surmise. But filled with sea water it served well as a convenient font.

While the International sped west toward port, the Mormon ranks continued to grow as predicted in Captain Brown’s dream. Just before the April 6 festival, the captain’s cook was baptized. On April 8 President Arthur’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Mary Ann, and a Negro crewman were baptized. The second mate, three sailors, and Christopher Arthur, Jr., were baptized the next day. As the International slipped between Cuba and Florida a week later the first mate joined the Church, as did three sailors and one emigrant the next day. Even 110° heat on April 17 did not squelch the Spirit, for the Saints held “first-rate meetings during the whole day; in the evening the ship’s carpenter, captain’s cook, and two sailors bore testimony to the truth of the work.”

Captain Brown’s spirit was troubled as the conversions continued. Some of his feelings were revealed when he gave landing instructions on April 18 and confessed his attraction to Mormonism: “He had crossed the seas many times,” one diarist reported in quoting him, “but never felt so happy with any people as he had with the Latter-day Saints.” He added that “his pride prevented him from immediately becoming a saint but he felt he soon should join us and come to Great Salt Lake City.” Following his remarks two more passengers were baptized. At testimony meeting the next evening six sailors bore testimony and afterwards one sailor was baptized.

The report credited the workings of the Spirit coupled with the Saints exemplary conduct for the remarkable number of conversions made on the high seas. He proudly wrote:

“I am glad to inform you, that we have baptized all on board except three persons [the steward and his wife, both staunch Catholics, and the third mate, ‘a very wicked fellow’—. We can number the captain, first and second mates, with eighteen of the crew, most of whom intend going right through to the valley. … The carpenter and eight of the seamen are Swedish, German, and Dutch. There are two negroes. … The others baptized were friends of the brethren. The number baptized in all is forty-eight, since we left our native shores.”