Gospel Story Finder

One of our beloved hymns expresses the plea “Thru cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me!” I was once on a plane as it approached a large storm. Looking out the window, I could see a dense blanket of clouds below us. The rays of the setting sun reflected off the clouds, causing them to shine with intense brightness. Soon, the plane descended through the heavy clouds, and we were suddenly enveloped in a thick darkness that completely blinded us to the intense light we had witnessed just moments earlier.

I delight that I am a daughter of Heavenly Father, who loves me. I learned of my divine identity in my earliest years at my mother’s side. Just recently I saw my then three-year-old granddaughter learning her identity from her mother. Eliza had gone to bed distraught. She could be comforted only as her mother again told Eliza’s favorite true story about the special night when Heavenly Father distinctly and clearly whispered to her mommy’s heart that Eliza was a special spirit with a noble mission ahead.

The blessings poured in, in ways I had never imagined. For instance, although I had tried simplifying some of the words for our youngest child, Joseph, who was four, he persisted in learning the complete document word for word. This became particularly poignant one week at church. The cover of the sacrament meeting program featured a picture of the Savior in Gethsemane that we had used in our memorization. Joseph pointed to the picture and said, “Look, Mommy. ‘He gave His life to atone for the sins of all mankind.’”

There were 27 of us that day, all 18 or 19 years of age, except one fellow, 21, whom we called “Pop.” Three more had started out with us in our flight but had washed out along the way, unable to keep up with the grueling physical discipline of basic training in the Royal Canadian Air Force. We had been training hard for months to take the place of young men not much older than ourselves who, at watch behind machine guns and plexiglass bubbles, were still giving their lives over Germany.
Traditionally, completion of basic training called for a fitting “graduation ceremony.” Each flight was confident that it could outperform any other group in almost any sort of physical contest. The flight party at the end of basic training had become the recognized way for flight trainees to prove that they were second to none.
Our flight was no different. A youthful eagerness seemed to be pushing us to throw off the discipline for a night, to noisily proclaim that we were the top, and to somehow cram into one furious evening enough pleasure to last a lifetime. And so 27 of us sat down on the grass that day to discuss our flight party.
I sat down feeling very alone, and for the first time since our flight had been formed, I felt absolutely no desire to be part of the group. I watched the others smiling and laughing as they agreed that only a top night club would do, and I sensed the mounting excitement as they discussed the activities that they felt would be the most entertaining. It was suggested that each of us had an obligation to contribute his best thoughts on the matter, and after five or six fellows had enthusiastically expressed their ideas, someone said: “Let’s hear what Green has to say.”
Green was the only Mormon in the group and had no desire to say anything to anybody. All he wanted to do was withdraw. How do you tell 26 non-Mormons about the branch you attend every Sunday with a fellow Mormon from another flight? How do you convey the feelings you have about the mission home where you have a standing invitation every Sunday for dinner, and where you gather around the piano every Sunday evening to sing with the missionaries just before you and your buddy leave to catch the last streetcar back to the barracks before lights out? What could you say to 26 non-Mormons planning an all-out bash in a night club about how cold and dismal that Sunday night ride back to the barracks seemed? How sensitive would they be to your observation that you loathed setting foot in the barracks every Sunday night because you knew that the first word you heard would make a complete mockery of the word love.
The answer to all those questions, as they passed quickly through my mind that day, was: “They wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t care. They’d probably sneer or laugh. Their idea of a flight party is a good indication of what they find important in life, and therefore it’s pointless to talk to them.” But somehow I had to come up with something that would get me off the hook, that would let me withdraw from the flight party. I was angry with myself because, after months of working together as a team with these fellows, I was going to suddenly and painfully resign. I was angry at them for putting me in a situation that I knew I was going to mishandle. They were going to judge me as the last type of person they wanted at the flight party, and I had already judged them as incapable of organizing a party I would want to attend.
“Let’s hear what Green has to say.”
“Yeah, Green. You haven’t said a word. What do you want to do?”
Green drew a deep breath, and looking rather sullenly at the grass in front of him made his brief withdrawal speech: “Well, if I were to go to a flight party … I’d be taking a pretty decent girl … so there’d be no drinking … and no smoking … and no swearing.” He didn’t dare look at anyone, and he gathered himself as best he could against the sudden onslaught he knew was coming.
And then it happened.
There was a good minute of utter silence. It was so still you could have heard a pin drop on the grass. Then someone from across the circle began to speak:
“Well …”
This was it. This was going to be the start. They would all have their say and then Green could beat his solitary retreat, leaving his worldly buddies with their frivolous taste for life.
“Well … I’d be taking a pretty nice girl myself …”
From beside him, “Who wouldn’t?”
There was another good minute of silence and then, from off to the right, “I nominate Green as master of ceremonies.” There were no other nominations.
A week later, all 27 members of the flight brought their beautifully dressed dates to our party. No drinking. No smoking. No swearing. Just lots of good food, good music, good dancing … and good memories of a flight party that was rather unique.
I remember, not without embarrassment, my thoughts on that sunny afternoon in 1944 as we sat down together on the grass. I remember that, unintentionally, I touched the lives of 26 young men. I thought I was putting them down. Generously, they put me at the top, and in my memory that’s exactly where I see them.

Get your family involved in helping you memorize scripture mastery verses. Write a scripture on a card and post it on the refrigerator or another prominent place. See which member of the family can learn and recite perfectly the scripture first. Help each other until all family members have learned it. Report at family home evening.

Aleran loved to juggle. He juggled gold balls, silverware, furniture, chickens, and even small pigs. It was said that he could juggle eggs, skillets, and flaming torches so as to serve breakfast to his admirers as he finished!
In fact, Aleran spent so much time juggling that he neglected his duties as king. This left his Chief Adviser, Dorlin, to manage the kingdom alone.
“Your Majesty, this isn’t really my job,” Dorlin complained. But Aleran ignored him.
Years spun by. Dorlin did the best he could, but the king only juggled, and the kingdom fell into disrepair.
One day, however, a problem arose that Dorlin could do nothing about. He went to the king. “Your Majesty,” Dorlin said, clearing his throat. “The people grow concerned.”
“Why?” asked Aleran, taking a bite from each of the fruits he was juggling.
“They wish you to marry and provide an heir to the throne.”
Aleran nearly dropped a pomegranate. “Marry?” He knew that it was his duty to marry, but a wife might take time away from his juggling.
Slowly the king began to smile. “Very well,” he agreed, to Dorlin’s surprise. “But I will only marry a woman who can juggle as well as I can.”
Aleran felt quite sure that no woman could ever match him in juggling.
Dorlin, however, was not so easily turned aside from his purpose. He decided to hold a juggling banquet at the palace, to which only women would be invited.
Soon women from all over the kingdom set to work learning to juggle—all with the thought of marrying the king.
Merchants sold balls, fruit, torches, and cutlery. Physicians kept busy dealing with cuts, bruises, and burns.
Near the castle lived a young woman named Maria.
“Are you going to the banquet?” her mother asked. “You would make a fine queen.”
“And marry a man who has abandoned his kingdom for a hobby? I think not! Besides, I’d make a finer housekeeper. I wonder if the king has even thought about how he’s going to feed everyone coming to the castle to juggle.”
She presented herself at the castle kitchen the next day. The last housekeeper had left to practice juggling, so she was quickly hired. Without further ado, Maria began preparing meals for the king and planning for the banquet that was to come.
King Aleran soon noticed improvements at the castle. Meals were on time and wonderfully delicious. Sheets were mended and starched. Cobwebs disappeared. Even the hearthfires no longer smoked.
He smiled while passing Maria in the hallway, amazed at how easy she made the job look.
Maria frowned with disapproval as the king juggled while the kingdom went unattended.
When the day of the banquet came, hundreds of jugglers streamed into the great hall. The meal was served as the juggling began.
Maria and her helpers set the tables. They laid the silverware as knives filled the air. Maria’s calm figure was a point of peace in a frenzied crowd.
Someone juggled six live hens—with scarcely a squawk from the birds—while Maria served glazed chicken with plum sauce.
The salad was eaten while two women from a southern city tried to outdo one another juggling vegetables.
Balls, horseshoes, and all manner of strange objects flew through the air during the evening. At last, dessert—apple crisp—was served as the final juggler tossed flaming torches about.
The king was exhausted, yet relieved, for none of the juggling equaled his own skill.
“Your Majesty.” Maria placed his dessert before him.
He blinked, and his eyes followed her as she moved away.
“It’s a pity she’s not a juggler,” he murmured aloud. “But perhaps it’s just as well. I’d hate to see her skills wasted on something as unimportant as …” He did not finish, but a frown crossed his face.
The banquet ended. Reluctantly the crowd left, each juggler angry that she had not been chosen as queen. The king wandered the clean but empty halls for a time, then felt drawn to the kitchen. He poked his head around the door frame.
Plates, cups, and silverware flew by in the servants’ hands as Maria orchestrated the washing-up. The king had never seen anything like it. If juggling was keeping things in motion with a minimum of wasted movement, Maria was a master of the art.
“What brings you to the kitchen?” Maria asked calmly.
“You do,” Aleran declared. “You are the only worthy wife for me, for you can juggle an entire castle!”
“It is true that I can juggle the affairs of a castle,” Maria said, “but until you at least attempt to juggle the affairs of a kingdom, I must refuse your offer.”
She turned back to her work.
Late that night King Aleran paced his bedroom, troubled by Maria’s words.
In the morning he called for Dorlin. “Old friend,” he said, “could you teach me your skill in running the kingdom?”
Dorlin was relieved to answer yes.
If juggling had been a challenge, ruling wisely proved to be a greater one. It was fully two years before Aleran felt worthy to seek the hand of Maria again. By then he had the beginnings of a reputation as a wise ruler, and a just one.
Aleran sought Maria out in the kitchen garden, where she was peeling apples for pie. She gladly agreed to marry him, for much had changed in two years.
“I’ll never waste my time juggling again,” Aleran promised.
Maria looked shocked. She plucked an apple from her lap.
“Each apple is important,” she said. “Yet if I wasted all my time with the apples, the pie would never get made. However,” she added, smiling, “there’s no reason why I couldn’t have a little fun and make the pie.”
She tossed an apple into the air, then another and another.
Aleran watched, amazed, as she kept them all going smoothly.
“The trick with juggling,” Maria said gently, “is timing.”

President Thomas S. Monson
(66) As a bishop, Thomas S. Monson writes personal letters each month to servicemen.

As I neared my 12th birthday, there were several requirements to be completed before I could graduate from Primary. One was to recite the thirteen Articles of Faith in the prescribed order. The first twelve articles were relatively easy, but the thirteenth was much more difficult. It was remembering the order of the virtues that presented the challenge. Thanks to a Primary teacher who was patient and persistent, I finally completed the memorization. …
“We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul—We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things” (Articles of Faith 1:13).

The more I read on a regular basis, the more I found myself turning to the scriptures in times of need or distress. On one occasion, I became extremely angry with someone who had broken an important promise to me. For days I was resentful and considered retaliation. I was miserable. I knew that it was wrong not to forgive, but I did not know how to overcome my feelings. Finally, in anguish, I picked up the Book of Mormon. Without any real intention of reading, I let the pages fall open. The words of the Lord from Mormon 3:15 seemed to jump out at me: “Vengeance is mine.”
In an instant, everything was brought into eternal perspective. I was chastened and humbled, realizing that my attitude was wrong. At the same time, this scripture brought great relief. The Lord was aware of my feelings! He cared. How much easier it was, then, to pray and to forget my bad feelings.

Merrell: Besides Indian and Three Warriors we have done Take Down and most recently Harry’s War. Would you like to hear the story connected with my doing Take Down?
Merrell: Kieth told me they probably wouldn’t use me on Take Down because the investors wanted someone with a big Hollywood name to help sell the film. My opportunity to do it began, strangely enough, when the BYU basketball team lost to the University of Utah. That night as I was trying to sleep, an arrangement of the “Cougar Fight Song” that I hadn’t heard before kept running through my mind. I finally got up, took a tape recorder, and dictated what I was hearing. A week later I orchestrated it, went to London, and at the end of the regular recording session, recorded the National Philharmonic playing my new “Cougar Fight Song.” It had a combination Star Wars-Rocky-disco sound and I loved it! I wanted it to be perfect because I planned to give it to Coach Arnold to help inspire his team to win.
Well, the day I returned to Utah I was in the studio listening to it and received a call from Kieth. He said, “Merrell, I’m totally frustrated; I’ve gone through composer after composer and no one strikes a bell. Do you have anything with a sports theme that sounds like Rocky and Star Wars combined?” I couldn’t believe it! I told him what I had and then sent him down a rough mix. After listening to it, he called in the investors and had them listen to it, and within three minutes they decided they wanted me to do the music for Take Down.
Later when Kieth talked to me, he said, “I don’t care what you do in the rest of the picture, but I want the end titles to sound like your Cougar song without the Cougar melody.” And that’s how close I came to getting the exact music he wanted before he had even asked me to submit a song. To me that was really a faith-promoting experience because I had been inspired several months earlier to be almost overwhelmed by a certain sound, write it down in the specific style Kieth wanted, record it, and have it ready the very day Kieth called.

She spent the next six years in Bath, living with the family of a missionary, Thomas Yates, and spending her small earnings on a fruitless search for her children. “After years of fasting and prayers, and many tears, the Lord opened the way for me to come to Zion,” with the Yates family and their son Thomas, just back from his 6 1/2 year mission.

We do not know what it cost her to leave England. She only says, “I prayed earnestly to God to help me in the long tedious journey that was before me, that I might not murmur on the way, or complain if a lion should be in my path, and he answered my prayers, for I saw nothing to murmur at. My heart was filled with gratitude all the way.”

Her son tells us what she, in the patience of her faith, omitted. She nearly died of seasickness, which lasted the entire voyage. She and Thomas were married on the morning of July 22, 1863, in Florence, Nebraska, and began the trek westward that afternoon. When Elizabeth discovered that there was not room for both her and her trunk in the wagon, she thought of her carefully packed china, the loveliest things she owned, and walked every step of the way, “my heart filled with gratitude.”

“Many shed tears of joy,” she says, “on first beholding the City of the Saints.” She does not say if she was among them, but she must have been.

A convict was being escorted by two armed guards down a hall between a row of cellblocks. One of the inmates asked him where he was going.
“To the electric chair,” he responded.
“Well, more power to you, boy!”

I also find myself sitting at school wondering why I am here and not with my other friends making money at fast food joints. But you have to ask yourself, “If I quit now, where will I be in the future?” Dropping out will not help you, but staying in school will. Getting a good education will pay off.
Ewalani H., 16, California

William Prabhudas of the Bangalore Second Branch works in a courthouse. He knows how heart wrenching it can be to see marriages torn apart. That’s one of the reasons he and his wife were so eager to find strength in the temple.
“Like most couples, sometimes we have small issues to work out,” he says. “But working them out is so much easier when we both have an eternal perspective.”
His wife, Sheela, says that going to the temple has helped not only her and her husband, but it has also helped their children: Celesta, age 13, and Doris, 7. “We were sealed as a family,” Sheela says. “It was a good feeling. We forgot the outside world, and it was like heaven for us. We talk about it all the time.”
“What a blessing to be sealed to my wife,” Brother Prabhudas says. “And then they brought our daughters in, dressed in white, to join us. It reminded me of cleanliness—cleanliness in our lives and in our homes. Cleanliness and the temple go hand in hand. When we are clean, the Lord promises—in His house of promises—to bless us.”
Celesta recalls that her family worked, planned, and saved for two years to be able to travel to the temple. But most of all, she remembers being in the temple with her parents and that her aunt and uncle and cousins were also there to see her family sealed. “Afterward, we all held hands together. We looked in the mirrors and thought about eternity,” she recalls. “It was beautiful. I knew I wanted to belong to my family forever.”

Andrew pulled out a pen and opened his journal. Today, I am coming home from my mission, he wrote.
He smiled and looked out the train window. He had spent the last two years in Denmark, the country where he was born. It was also where his family was baptized. They moved to Utah, USA, when he was a teenager. And soon he would be with them!
Andrew turned the page and kept writing. He liked to write. He also liked learning about Church history. He had read all he could about Joseph Smith. He even memorized all the important dates in Joseph Smith’s life.
Soon Andrew was home with his family. Every day he helped them work on the farm. He plowed. He planted. But he wanted to do more. He wanted to read and write and travel.
So Andrew prayed. He thought a lot about what he should do. Then he had an idea! He started to translate some of Joseph Smith’s history into Danish.
And that was just the start. Andrew kept writing, reading, and translating. He started working for the Church as a historian. He went to different places in the United States. He gathered stories and important papers.
One day, Church leaders asked Andrew to do something even more exciting. They asked him to go to different countries. He would write stories about the Church members he met. Andrew could not wait!
Andrew said goodbye to his family. Then, with his passport in hand, Andrew was off! He traveled by ship. He traveled by train. Sometimes he traveled by carriage or even by horse or camel.
Wherever he went, Andrew talked to Church members about their lives. He talked to them about their faith. He wrote their stories down so other people could read them. To Andrew, everyone’s story was important.
When Andrew came home from his trip, he put the stories into a book. He taught others about writing things down and keeping them in a safe place.
Andrew was happy doing the work he loved. But sometimes he wondered if he was really making a difference. He decided to pray about it.
“Heavenly Father, why haven’t I been asked to do more important things?” A clear answer came to Andrew’s mind. God has inspired you to do the work you have done.
Andrew smiled. He knew he was doing what God wanted him to do. And he would not stop!
Andrew saved the stories of more than 15,000 people. We can follow his example by writing down our own family stories. Everyone’s story is important—including yours!

I remember one time standing next to President Ezra Taft Benson. We had been talking about welfare service in the Lord’s Church. He surprised me with his youthful vigor when he said, pumping his hand, “I love this work, and it is work!”

Stone Soup Day
The girls read the folk story “Stone Soup.” Then they each brought an item to help make a meal. They cooked the meal together and took it to members of the ward who were having a hard time.

Kinamo Williams, who ended up as Candy’s zone leader in Puerto Rico, says he hadn’t been totally solid in the Church until he arrived at the academy. “Seeing all the examples around me changed everything. Committing to serve Jesus Christ full time became a simple choice.”
The LDS institute program was also a key to maintaining spirituality, Kinamo said. “Monday was always one of my best days at the academy, because we had the opportunity to go to institute, to feast on the words of the Lord Jesus Christ and get the spiritual strength to go on.”

Tithing develops and tests our faith. By sacrificing to the Lord what we may think we need or want for ourselves, we learn to rely on Him. Our faith in Him makes it possible to keep our temple covenants and receive eternal temple blessings. Pioneer Sarah Rich, wife of Charles C. Rich, wrote in her journal after leaving Nauvoo: “Many were the blessings we had received in the House of the Lord, which [have] caused joy and comfort in the midst of all our sorrows, and enabled us to have faith in God, knowing He would guide us and sustain us in the unknown journey that lay before us.”

Priesthood volunteers from the Jacksonville Florida West Stake worked all weekend cleaning up a house which had been nearly submerged by the flood. The owner, a retired nonmember named Davis, was overwhelmed by the help provided. When the work was completed, the brethren asked Mr. Davis if they could bless his house. They gathered together, and the bishop pronounced a blessing on the home and on the family. Tears ran down Mr. Davis’s cheeks, and the Spirit was very strong. Each of the volunteers hugged him and told him how glad they were to have been of help. He said they had done more than they could ever know and that he didn’t know how to thank them enough.