Gospel Story Finder

“Hey, Aaron,” Ty called from the other end of the church gym. “Come shoot some hoops with us!”
Aaron shifted the box of paper cups and napkins in his arms and shook his head. “I can’t,” he called back. “I’m helping my mom set up for Relief Society.”
Aaron heard Ty and some of his other friends laugh as they dribbled and passed the basketball. All of the boys were in his Primary class except Todd, a new boy who didn’t go to church. Aaron heard Todd ask, “What’s Relief Society?”
“It’s a meeting for moms and old ladies … and Aaron!” Ty laughed again.
Aaron ducked into the kitchen and dropped the box on the counter. He knew that Relief Society wasn’t just for moms and old ladies, and it wasn’t just a meeting either. When his mother was in the hospital, Relief Society sisters brought delicious meals to his family. They also served his family a luncheon after his grandfather’s funeral. Mom had explained that the Relief Society also helps the bishop care for the sick and poor in the ward. Aaron enjoyed helping Mom with Relief Society activities because he always had a good feeling afterward, and he often got to sample the leftover treats.
But he didn’t have a good feeling right now. He didn’t like being laughed at. “Mom, can I go play with Ty and the other guys?” he asked.
“I’m counting on you, Aaron,” Mom said. “I really need you to put chairs around the tables.”
Grumbling to himself, Aaron shuffled over to the rack of chairs against the wall. He lifted one off the top, and the one below it clattered to the hardwood floor. Some of the boys laughed, but Todd said, “Why don’t we go help him?”
Ty shot the basketball and missed. “No way,” he said, chasing down the ball. “We only have the gym for five more minutes. I’m not going to waste my time on Relief Society.”
Aaron unfolded more chairs and arranged them around the tables. Brother Brown arrived to help, and soon the two of them had completed the job. But Aaron knew that he wasn’t finished. Mom handed him a stack of tablecloths and paper napkins. He turned away from the boys at the other end of the gym and concentrated on getting the tablecloths straight. Brother Brown and several Relief Society sisters worked around him, setting the tables and making everything look nice. Aaron took a pitcher of water and started to fill the paper cups at each place, when suddenly a basketball crashed into the table, spilling water everywhere.
Ty ran over to retrieve the ball just as Aaron’s mother came out of the kitchen. “It’s time for you to go so we can have our meeting,” she told Ty.
Ty picked up the ball and dribbled it at his side. “Ah, come on, Sister Dean, we won’t bother you. We’ll just play at that end while you have your meeting over here.”
“Sorry, Ty,” she said. “It’s our turn now. You boys will have to leave.” She turned and walked back into the kitchen.
Aaron mopped up the spilled water with a wad of napkins. Ty was still standing there looking stubborn, bouncing the ball up and down. Aaron didn’t want to argue with his friend, but he didn’t want to let Mom down either. He offered a quick and silent prayer.
“Listen, Ty,” he said with a smile. “Why don’t you guys help me finish, and then we can go outside and play basketball before it gets too dark. The Relief Society is having brownies and ice cream afterward, and my mom might give us some if we help out.”
Ty looked around and the other boys waited to see what he would do. Aaron took the pitcher of water and pointed at the empty cups. “If we all take a table, we’ll get done fast.”
Later, Aaron’s mom brought brownies and ice cream outside for the boys. “I want to thank you guys for helping out tonight,” she said. “It sure made my job a lot easier.”
Todd took a spoonful of ice cream and grinned. “This is your job?” he asked. “Where do I sign up?”

For me, the question “How does putting Jesus Christ first help with temple and family history work?” was at the heart of the March 2023 Temple and Family History Leadership Instruction. Before I watched the broadcast, I expected to learn more about how to implement family history plans in wards and stakes. Instead, I was inspired to change my focus from the tasks of family history to the power of covenant connection with our Savior.

Interesting Tales of the Obvious, Teen Ghost, and the Life of a Twelve-year-old haven’t exactly made it on a best-seller list. In fact, the author has only one publication pending—in the school literary magazine.
But that hasn’t stopped would-be book writer Carolyn Jess, 14, from sending her manuscripts to “heaps and heaps of publishers.”
“It’s helped me to bring out my talents and to encourage other people to write,” Carolyn, a member of the Holywood Road Ward, Belfast Northern Ireland Stake, says. She also writes poetry and creates illustrations to accompany her work.
Her favorite story is set in Belfast and New York and includes some LDS characters.

I was fourteen years old when the Prophet came to stay at our home. During the thirteen days he was with us, I learned to love him more dearly than any other person I ever met, including my mother and father.
—John. W. Hess

Two years into my actuarial and financial mathematics degree, I had a strong prompting to go on a mission. I chose to serve, even though I would potentially forfeit certain college credits that had to be taken consecutively.
A short while later, as I read my mission call to the Utah Salt Lake City Central Mission, the moment felt surreal. I didn’t know anybody who had served in Salt Lake City. I thought maybe I had opened the wrong mission call. When I arrived in Salt Lake City, I felt that everything I knew had been taken away. I found myself on a bicycle in the snow without any idea of how to be a missionary. With its different culture and climate, Salt Lake City felt as far away from South Africa as I could have traveled.
In my first area, my companion and I visited a member named Chris Ruppel for dinner. He asked if either of us knew music. My companion mentioned that I played piano and sang, so I sang a song for the family. Then something special happened. Brother Ruppel looked at me and said, “Elder Vizzini, if you keep singing like that, you will be a successful missionary.” I thought that was sweet of him but didn’t think much of it.
A few months later, with Brother Ruppel, I helped organize a musical missionary fireside. In every area I served thereafter, we used this same fireside structure. Many people participated with us, from stake members to well-known local musicians and members of other faiths. We taught about the Savior through music to people who otherwise would not have wanted to sit through a lesson. I learned that music could touch both the poor and the wealthy, the educated and the uneducated.
My mission taught me that I can do hard things. As I served in an area so far away and so different from my home, I learned that everybody is a child of God. I have seen miracles in people’s lives on the other side of the world in Utah, and I have seen them here in South Africa. I know that if we just have faith, miracles can happen in each of our lives (see Mormon 9:15–21).

A Smooth Move When Gus has to move, he writes about saying good-bye to his friends with a big pizza party, living in a hotel until the moving van gets there, telling jokes while riding the elevator with his cat, and much more.Berniece Rabe7–10 years

The Young Women of Eight Mile Plains Ward, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, decided to share their love for Valentine’s Day. After spending a Saturday preparing paper hearts with messages of love and friendship, the girls sneaked into the yards of their “victims,” leaving their messages behind, attached to sticks in the ground, and taped to doorknobs and doorbells.
The girls did the entire project in secret but were found out by some people who loved the idea so much that they did the same thing to their neighbors the following day. The Eight Mile Plains girls have decided to make it a yearly tradition.

From a young age, I was always captivated by the enthusiasm of the missionaries. During one sacrament meeting in my small branch in Minas, Uruguay, a missionary bore his testimony and expressed his feelings about his mission. His words stayed in my mind and my heart.
“One day,” I said to myself, “I will serve a mission.”
Sometime later, as a priest, I had the opportunity to accompany the missionaries on lessons. It was an unforgettable experience to be a missionary at 16 years old!
When I turned 18, several young people from my branch returned from their missions, including my sister Ana, who had returned from a mission in Argentina. Their experiences and testimonies also touched my heart.
As my 19th birthday approached, I wanted to give my name to go forth and proclaim the Savior’s gospel and serve in His vineyard (see Doctrine and Covenants 75:2). I prepared and sent in my mission papers. When my call arrived, I opened the letter signed by President Spencer W. Kimball and read that I would serve in the Uruguay/Paraguay Mission. I was going to serve in my own country! I was happy for the chance to proclaim “glad tidings of great joy, even the everlasting gospel” (Doctrine and Covenants 79:1).
I arrived at the mission office after traveling two hours by bus to Montevideo, Uruguay. The mission president set me apart as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and assigned me a companion. By that afternoon, we began knocking on doors.
In the beginning, there were times when the mission wasn’t as exciting as I had imagined it would be. Thankfully, I had an obedient and hardworking companion who helped me discover the joy of losing myself in the Lord’s service. His example blessed me throughout my entire mission.

During the final phases of World War II, I turned eighteen and was ordained an elder one week before I departed for active duty with the navy. A member of my ward bishopric was at the train station to bid me farewell. Just before train time, he placed two books into my hands. One was a popular satire in which I took interest. The other was entitled The Missionary Handbook.

I laughed and commented, “I’m not going on a mission.”

He answered, “Take it anyway—it may come in handy.”

It did. In basic training the company commander instructed us concerning how we might best pack our clothing in a large sea bag. He advised: “If you have some hard, rectangular object you can place in the bottom, your clothes will stay more firm.”

I suddenly remembered just the right rectangular object—The Missionary Handbook. Thus it served for sixteen weeks.

The night before our Christmas leave, our thoughts were, as always, on home. The quarters were quiet. Suddenly I became aware that my buddy in the adjoining bunk, a Mormon boy, Leland Merrill, was moaning in pain. I asked, “What’s the matter, Merrill?”

He replied, “I’m sick. I’m really sick!”

I advised him to go to the base dispensary, but he knowingly answered that such a course would prevent him from being home for Christmas.

The hours lengthened. His groans grew louder. Suddenly he whispered, “Monson, Monson, aren’t you an elder?” I acknowledged this to be so, whereupon he asked, “Give me a blessing.”

Suddenly I became very much aware that I had never given a blessing, I had never received such a blessing, and I had never witnessed a blessing being given. My prayer to God was a plea for help. The answer came: “Look in the bottom of the sea bag.” Thus, at two o’clock in the morning I spilled the contents of the bag on the deck, took the book to the night light, and read how one blesses the sick. With about seventy curious sailors looking on, I gave the shakiest blessing I’ve ever given. Before I could stow my gear, Leland Merrill was sleeping like a child.

The next morning Merrill smilingly turned to me and said, “Monson, I’m glad you hold the priesthood.” His gladness was surpassed only by my joy.

Four seniors from the North Little Rock Ward, Little Rock Arkansas Stake, had a very successful year. They were active in school, and all completed and received their Young Womanhood Recognition.

Lori Wiggins, Shelly Anderson, Laura Johnson, and Jacque Adcock prepared for their awards through class projects such as learning to can, decorating cakes, making Mother’s Day plaques, fellowshipping inactive members, and other service projects. They also achieved several individual goals as well as the class goals.

Lori was an officer of the school drill team and member of the National Honor Society. Laura was stake seminary secretary and vice-president of her senior class in school. Jacque was president of the ward seminary and president of her senior class. She was also co-captain of the cheerleading squad. Shelly was active in a clown troupe and in the costuming crew during school plays. She also participated in community theater.

To conclude the year, the girls and their adviser made a quilt, which was presented by the class to the ward.

Additionally, Sarah oversees the teaching of teenage girls in her local congregation and is their technology specialist. She considers technology a huge blessing, adding that the lockdown has pushed her to “learn more about Zoom and other programs … and understand how to use them”.

Last summer the softball team I play on was invited to participate in a national tournament in Shawnee, Kansas. During the first game a girl on the other team hit a line drive to left field. My teammates were yelling to me in the outfield “back, back, back!” I turned and ran, but the ball kept going, until it landed on the other side of the fence.
I put my arms in the air to signal that the ball was out of play. At the same time, I saw my coach come out onto the field with a disappointed, angry look on his face. He asked me if I was sure the ball had actually gone over the fence, instead of bouncing over it after hitting the ground once, or rolling underneath it. It would have been easy to say that either of those things had happened, since I was the only one who really saw it clearly. But when the umpires came out to talk to me just a few seconds later, I confirmed that the batter had really hit the ball over the fence.
We finished the game and ended up losing. I felt bad about that, but I felt good that I had told the truth.
A few days later, after we had finished playing for the day, I received an envelope. It contained a poem titled “Honesty on the Field,” and it was about my telling the truth on the field when it would have been easy not to. It had been written by an umpire who had seen the game. He said he was glad I had had the courage to tell the truth, and that not all people show integrity on the ball field.
Even though my team didn’t win very many games at the tournament, I will always remember that incident as a time when I felt like a winner.

When my husband and I helped our children move into college dorms or enter the missionary training center, we felt a combination of sadness and liberation to think that they—and we—were finally “done.” We soon realized, however, that along with gaining new competence and freedom, our children faced additional challenges. While our actual control over their lives evaporated, their need for support—a different kind of support—actually increased.

We moved last year from Ellicott City, Maryland, USA, with our family to Harrogate. We are blessed with four children, two of whom are now serving missions. Our daughter, Natalie, started serving in May 2022 as a teaching missionary in the Arizona Gilbert Mission. In February 2023, her brother, Peter, was called to serve a service mission in the England Leeds Mission.
While we have been wonderfully blessed since our daughter started her mission, we have felt a change in our home since Peter was called. We truly felt increased spiritual power in our home as our son began to participate in the service missionary training centre meetings the week prior to being set apart. The Spirit is more accessible, the Christlike attributes that we are seeking to obtain come more easily. I attribute that to the blessing of having a missionary serving from our home. He has been set apart, completed his training, and is beginning to serve in our local community.
We have noticed so many positive and miraculous changes in him, and in our family dynamics already. We look forward to the changes that Elder Rosenquist will yet undergo and experience as he continues his mission.
And in divine serendipity, our son’s service mission leaders, Elder and Sister Conway, are from Gilbert, Arizona. Their daughter Kelsie and her family are living in Gilbert, Arizona, in the ward in which Sister Rosenquist is labouring.

While Howard was serving as a stake president, he was speaking to the congregated Saints of the Pasadena Stake during a special excursion to the Arizona Temple. It was Howard’s forty-sixth birthday, and he wrote in his journal: “While I was speaking to the congregation, my father and mother came into the chapel dressed in white. I had no idea my father was prepared for his temple blessings, although Mother had been anxious about it for some time. I was so overcome with emotion that I was unable to continue to speak. … This was a birthday I have never forgotten because on that day they were endowed and I had the privilege of witnessing their sealing, following which I was sealed to them.”

As a young missionary serving in France, I wanted to know for myself that the Book of Mormon was true. I believed it was true. I hoped it was true. I had even gone on a mission with faith that it was true. However, as I worked day after day as a missionary and told people the best I could in my limited French that I had a testimony of the book, I still did not actually know for myself.
Our little apartment in southern France was cold and damp throughout that first winter. Every morning and evening, before and after the work of the day, I would huddle with a blanket and an overcoat to read and study my Book of Mormon. I knew of the promise of Moroni, that if I were to read, ponder, and pray, I too could know. For days and weeks I read, but nothing happened. No light, no angel, no voice—nothing except a feeling of peace as I read.
I continued to read and underline meaningful passages and pray to know that the Book of Mormon was true. The miracle eventually came. As Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has described, it was more like the rising of the sun than the sudden turning on of a light switch.4 A light began to illuminate my mind and my heart. I began to see the Book of Mormon in a different way. Passages that I had read before began to mean something new. The best way I can describe the experience was that my mind began to be enlightened.
Over a period of weeks and months, I can say that I came to know more surely than anything I had ever known that the Book of Mormon was the word of God. I came to know that it was written and preserved for our day and was brought forth as a powerful witness of Jesus Christ and His Church. The impression that came to me again and again through the voice of the Spirit was, “It’s true, it’s true, it’s all true.”
Forty years later, that same witness continues with me. I have now read the Book of Mormon many times, and each time—every time—I again hear the words “It’s true.” This has given me the assurance that Jesus Christ is my Savior and that this is His great work of salvation.

Tony landed the balloon near a busy expressway one afternoon and got out so that a friend who was learning to fly could solo. The pilot was no sooner aloft than he decided it was time to land. Being inexperienced, he pulled the rip panel too soon and came streaming down into the corner of someone’s backyard, draping the canopy over telephone wires. The “someone” turned out to be the local stake president whose neighbors all came over to take pictures and admire the pilot and the just-arrived young men of the chase crew. The president’s wife made lemonade for the pilot, crew, neighbors, Tony—who had enlisted the help of a stranger on the expressway—and the power company linemen who had turned up in a basket truck to get the envelope off the wires. One of the guests came up to the balloonists and said, “Thanks. This is the first time the neighborhood has been together in weeks.”

Now he was a political exile. Since he could not go home, he decided to go to South America, where he became the leader of Italian exiles there. They were known as the Italian Legion, and they fought for the independence of Brazil and Uruguay. These men refused to accept any money for their service because they had not earned it peacefully. The government of Uruguay gave them red woolen shirts, which they wore for uniforms. The Red Shirts, as they were soon called, became a symbol of hope and freedom even in their native Italy.

Photograph by Shaun Stahle
Elder Brandon Burton served as a proselyting missionary in the Philippines Cabanatuan Mission for eight months. “I loved teaching in Tagalog and felt that I had adjusted to the culture,” he said.
Unfortunately, he started to experience unexpected challenges.
“I felt like my life was slowly losing its color, and it was difficult to see the joy of the work,” he said. “Eventually, after I was diagnosed with depression, my mission leaders and I concluded that I should go home to navigate my new health challenges.”
Elder Burton was disappointed. He said, “I thought I was ruining God’s plan by coming home.” But he worked with his stake president to transfer to a service mission.
Through a series of miracles that took place before Elder Burton even boarded the plane home, his parents met individuals at Church headquarters who gave him the opportunity to serve the Lord with his unique skills and abilities.
The rest of his mission included teaching the gospel in the evenings, helping with articles for the Liahona magazine, working with horses, and serving in the Bountiful Utah Temple.
“God clearly showed that this was His plan and that He would provide for me,” he said.
“God clearly showed that this was His plan and that He would provide for me.”
Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has said that “service missionaries bring great blessings to themselves, but more importantly, as they are doing this work, they’re blessing Heavenly Father’s children in unique ways.”
Elder Burton concluded, “I thought I came home because I was broken, but I learned that is not true. I transferred to a service mission because that is where God needed me, and He provided a way.”

“Family prayer!” Max called. He jumped over a box and landed on the couch. It was his family’s first night in their new house, and there were boxes everywhere.
“Take it easy, kiddo,” Mom said as she sat down on the couch. Soon Max’s older sister, Hannah, came in. Max saw his new stepdad, Tom, standing in the doorway. Max’s mom and Tom had gotten married the week before, and they had all moved in to the new house together. Max was still trying to get used to having a stepdad.
“OK,” Mom said. “Whose turn is it to say family prayer?”
“Mom, why doesn’t Tom say it?” Max asked.
Mom looked to where Tom stood in the doorway. “Oh, sweetie, I don’t think Tom is going to join us. He’s never done family prayer before.”
“I don’t mind,” Tom said, walking into the room. He sat down next to Max. “I’ll just sit and listen.”
As Max got used to having Tom around, he noticed his stepdad didn’t do a lot of the same things Max and his mom and sister did. On Sunday mornings when Max, Hannah, and Mom got dressed for church, Tom would put on a pair of old jeans and grab his toolbox. He said he had too much to do around the house to go to church, but when they got home he always asked them what they learned.
Even though Tom didn’t go to church, he was a really nice guy. Tom always encouraged Max to choose the right and listen to his mom and his Primary teachers. As months passed, Max prayed he could be a good example so that maybe one day Tom would want to learn more about the Church.
When Thanksgiving came around, Max and Tom spent the afternoon raking leaves in the yard. The air was chilly. As they finished up, Mom called from the front door, “Boys! Dinner’s ready!”
“Race you!” Tom said to Max. Max grinned as they ran into the house, where the smell of turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie greeted them. They washed up and sat down at the table with the rest of the family.
“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!” Tom said. He looked around the table. “I was thinking that maybe I could say the blessing on the food this time, if that’s all right with you.”
Mom’s eyes widened with surprise. “Of course,” she said, smiling. “I think we would all like that very much.”
Tom looked at Max and winked. Max grinned and folded his arms.
As Tom prayed, Max silently thanked Heavenly Father for blessing their family with such a great stepdad. He had a feeling that this Thanksgiving was just the start of lots of good things to come.