Gospel Story Finder

Nellie screamed and sat up in bed. Her mother quickly climbed in to the wagon bed from underneath the wagon where she had been sleeping.
“Hush, hush,” she soothed as she rocked Nellie in her arms.
“The flames, Mama! The flames and the men were hurting Papa.” Nellie buried her head in Mama’s arms. “It’s dark and I’m afraid!”
Nellie had awakened from her sleep, screaming, almost every night since a mob had pulled her sleeping family from their home near Nauvoo and burned the house and their fields. Papa still limped from the burns he’d received trying to put the fires out.
“It’s just a bad dream, dear,” Mama said as she stroked Nellie’s forehead and tried to quiet her sobs.
The next morning Nellie watched as six Indians, dressed in leather breeches, rode into camp on their horses. She cowered on her bed as one stopped his horse at her wagon. He leaned over, reached into the wagon, and held out one of Nellie’s long, blond braids. Her eyes got big with fear.
“He likes the color of your hair,” Papa said as he worked to yoke the oxen to the wagon. “His name is Flying Eagle.”
“He scares me.” She watched with relief as Flying Eagle rode to the front of the wagon line.
“He and his companions are going to hunt buffalo tomorrow. They have promised that if their hunt is successful, they will trade meat for flour and corn,” Papa told her.
“But won’t they hurt us?”
“Not these Indians. They seem to be friendly toward us Mormons. They have heard that we have been driven from our homes, as many of them were.”
The Indians camped nearby that night. In the morning they were gone and did not return until late in the afternoon. When they did return, meat from two buffalo hung over their tired horses. Everyone in camp came running to see. That night there would be a feast!
Nellie went to sleep that night happy and with a very full stomach. Suddenly her mother was gently shaking her. She had been screaming and crying again. As her mother comforted her, she looked up to see Flying Eagle, looking concerned, standing beside their wagon. After a few moments he turned and walked back to his camp.
As the hunting party was leaving the next morning, Flying Eagle rode up to Nellie’s wagon and pointed to a glass jar sitting on the sideboard of the wagon.
“Let him have it,” Papa said to Mama. “They are helping us find food, and it is a small exchange.” Mama put the lid on the jar and handed it to Flying Eagle.
“He must think it’s pretty. I guess he’s never seen a glass jar before,” Nellie said as he left.
That night the Indian hunting party returned with three bucks and several prairie chickens to trade with the Saints. Everyone felt relieved to have ample meat for a time.
As the stars came out, Flying Eagle approached Nellie’s wagon and handed her mother the glass jar she had given him that morning. Inside were small, darting lights. “Why it’s fireflies!” she exclaimed.
Flying Eagle pointed to Nellie. He shut his eyes, opened them as if terrified, then pointed to the jar and smiled.
“Ah—I see,” Papa said. He told Nellie, “Put them by your bed and look at them when you wake up at night. Then you won’t be afraid.” He turned to Flying Eagle and held out his hand. “Thank you.”
Nellie was fascinated by the little trails of light made as the fireflies flew around inside the bottle. She watched them for a long time before she fell asleep.
The old dream returned again that night, but when her scream awoke her, she saw the little lights in the glass jar and her fear drained away. She watched them gratefully until she fell asleep, peacefully.
Flying Eagle came to Nellie’s wagon the next morning. He pointed to the glass jar again. Motioning for Nellie and Papa to follow him, he led them down by the river where the tamarack bushes grew, and set the fireflies free. Then he showed Nellie how to scrape the jar along the ferny branches to catch more fireflies.
Nellie tried all morning to think of a way to thank Flying Eagle before he left with the other Indians to take the corn and flour they’d traded for back to their village. Finally she knew what she could do. She climbed into the wagon and left it a few minutes later with a small cloth bag in her hand.
She went over to where the Indians were getting ready to leave. Other Saints had gathered to say good-bye too. Nellie held out the little sack to Flying Eagle. “Thank you for the fireflies,” she said softly.
Flying Eagle opened the little cloth sack and pulled out a lock of Nellie’s hair with a pink ribbon tied around it.
He looked down at Nellie and smiled, then stuffed the cloth sack into a leather pouch he wore around his waist. As he got on his horse and rode off, he turned to wave to her. Nellie smiled and waved back.

At times my prayers were monotonous and I felt empty, as if my Father in Heaven wasn’t listening to me. This changed when I started to pray with true intent, sharing with Heavenly Father all the things I feel. As I pray, I think of the great love He has for me.
Jorge Andrés Alzate,Las Palmas Ward, Neiva Colombia Stake

Allan’s mother’s oil paintings hang on walls of the living room. “The atmosphere in my family has always been one of appreciating art,” Allan says. That, coupled with a “fun art teacher” in elementary school who helped Allan prepare a motion picture animated with figures cut from construction paper, fostered an appreciation for creativity. “I’ve been interested in art ever since,” he says.

Once, for instance, I prayed through the night to know what I was to choose to do in the morning. I knew that no other choice could have had a greater effect on the lives of others and on my own. I knew what choice looked most comfortable to me. I knew what outcome I wanted. But I could not see the future. I could not see which choice would lead to which outcome. So the risk of being wrong seemed too great to me.
I prayed, but for hours there seemed to be no answer. Just before dawn, a feeling came over me. More than at any time since I had been a child, I felt like one. My heart and my mind seemed to grow very quiet. There was a peace in that inner stillness.
Somewhat to my surprise, I found myself praying, “Heavenly Father, it doesn’t matter what I want. I don’t care anymore what I want. I only want that Thy will be done. That is all that I want. Please tell me what to do.”
In that moment I felt as quiet inside as I had ever felt. And the message came, and I was sure who it was from. It was clear what I was to do. I received no promise of the outcome. There was only the assurance that I was a child who had been told what path led to whatever He wanted for me.
I learned from that experience and countless repetitions that the description of the Holy Ghost as a still, small voice is real. It is poetic, but it is not poetry. Only when my heart has been still and quiet, in submission like a little child, has the Spirit been clearly audible to my heart and mind.

To cite another example, after our fifth child was born, my wife and I did not have any more children. After more than 10 years we concluded that our family would not be any larger, which grieved us. Then one day, while my wife was in the temple, the Spirit whispered to her that she would have another child. That prophetic revelation was fulfilled about a year and a half later with the birth of our sixth child, for whom we had waited 13 years.

I had a hard time learning how to ride my bike without training wheels. I became scared to ride my bike because I had crashed a few times. I said a prayer on my bike and was able to learn how to ride it without being afraid. I’m grateful Heavenly Father blessed me.
Reese H., age 6, Utah, USA

Neill F. Marriott receives nurturing from her fiancé’s step-grandmother.

I love listening to the prophets. When I was a young boy, general conference was also on Fridays. I took a portable radio to school and listened to the talks during class break. But there were still a lot of things that I didn’t understand.
One night, I lay in bed thinking. I worried about all the things I didn’t understand about God. But I knew that I could learn more about God by praying to Him and by reading the scriptures. So I said a prayer and started reading from the scriptures. I read Doctrine and Covenants 88:49. It says, “The day shall come when you shall comprehend even God.”
As I read that, I felt peace and comfort from the Holy Ghost. I started to realize that someday I would be able to understand the things that made me feel worried. And that it was OK if I didn’t understand everything right now. I also learned that I could get to know God better by reading the scriptures and listening to prophets. I have a testimony that you can too!

As a 17-year-old nursing student, I found my second year of college a challenging one. (In the Philippines we finish high school at age 16.) I found the endless quizzes, research projects, and reading assignments to be exhausting. I felt as though I always had dark circles under my eyes, since I normally got little sleep. Despite the heavy workload, I always tried to remember that “sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven.”1
I knew that if I worked hard, I would have a better future. Whenever I wanted to give up and go to bed without studying, I imagined how sad and defeated I would feel the next day if I did poorly on a quiz or assignment. This was enough motivation to keep me awake so I could study.
Many of my classmates were upset when they got a low score on a quiz. However, they did not want to work and study hard. As a result, students would often “help” one another by sharing answers during quizzes or tests, allowing others to look at their papers when the professor wasn’t watching. I was often tempted to do the same, but I never dared. I have read countless times in Church magazines that members of the Church should have high standards, which means no cheating. So I studied hard and resisted the temptation, even though this sometimes meant getting lower grades than my classmates, since they had each other’s help.
On one particular day I had classes from 7:00 in the morning until 7:00 in the evening, and I had a quiz scheduled in each class. I studied 10 pages for my first quiz alone. “How will I get through all this?” I wondered. Thankfully, I did well on my first quiz. During lunch I studied for my next one. When I went to class and started the quiz, I realized that I knew the answers to every question but one. “How can this be?” I thought. “I’ve studied hard for this quiz. I should know this answer!”
As I tapped my pen furiously on my chair, it occurred to me that it would take just a moment to turn my head, give my hair a flip, and dart my eyes toward my classmate’s answer. “I could do this just once,” I thought, “and I’ll ace the quiz. Just once won’t hurt. Besides, it’s so unfair for me. I study hard, yet I get lower grades than my classmates because I don’t cheat!” Still, I felt uncomfortable. I fidgeted in my chair, trying to make a choice: to cheat or not to cheat.
Then a voice inside me said, “No, Shery! Cheating is wrong, and you know it!” Suddenly I realized that even if I got a perfect score on the quiz, I wouldn’t feel good about my score if I cheated. My Heavenly Father was counting on me to make the right choice—this choice was the real test.
Just then a scripture I’d learned in Sunday School came to my mind: “How then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?” (Genesis 39:9). I knew that Heavenly Father had helped me through countless challenges, including many quizzes and school assignments. How could I forget all He had done for me and choose to sin?
To this day I can’t remember the result of that particular quiz. Whether I came up with the answer or not, I can’t recall. But I have always remembered that I felt good for making the right choice.
Now as a junior I still face the same mountain of schoolwork and the same temptations; however, choosing not to cheat isn’t difficult because I’ve made that choice already, at a time when the temptation was hard to resist. I’ve learned that the joy and satisfaction of getting high grades is greater when I work hard and earn it. Wickedness, indeed, never was happiness (see Alma 41:10). True happiness is found in keeping the commandments and following the counsel of our prophet and other Church leaders. I truly believe the words “Keep the commandments. In this there is safety and peace.”2

Elder Robert D. Hales
(95) Elder Hales’s grandson interrupts his reading the newspaper to ask, “Are you in there?”

If there had been a vacancy on the United States Supreme Court prior to April 1984, Justice Dallin Harris Oaks of the Utah Supreme Court might have been a candidate to fill it. After all, he had been considered for such a position before. So when the Washington Post’s Supreme Court reporter learned of Elder Oaks’ new call as a member of the Church’s Council of the Twelve, he dutifully telephoned to ask whether this meant that Dallin Oaks could no longer be eligible for a position on the highest court in the land.
Yes, Elder Oaks explained patiently, it certainly meant that.
But the court position is also a lifetime calling. Is it not also a very important way to serve?
Indeed it is, Elder Oaks affirmed, but it does not take precedence over the service it would now be his opportunity to give.

“During my earlier career as a heart surgeon, I stood in an operating room thousands of times. I even cared for wounded soldiers in MASH units during the Korean War. I have literally touched the hearts of men and women of many races and nationalities around the world. My prayers to God for His guiding help, and the subsequent inspiration I received from Him, were vital in every instance. In those operating rooms—where life hung in the balance—I came to know that our Heavenly Father cares deeply for every one of His children. That’s because we are His children.

Bobette Richmond gave it to her nonmember grandmother who now reads it faithfully—and especially enjoys the Q and A department.

One day the mother of another family with an autistic child told me, “When Josh turns eight and gets the Holy Ghost, he’ll sweeten right up!”
I doubted her words, but when he turned eight, he received the Holy Ghost and did sweeten up—a little.

I am grateful that my parents and grandparents provided such traditions of learning for our family. My father wrote this account of how his parents taught their children:
“[The] musical, cheerful voice [of my mother] called, ‘Come, children, it is the singing and story hour.’ … She seated herself in a well-used rocking chair, admonished us to listen carefully, to sing well, and to ask questions. …
“… We learned the words of the song by rote, and the meaning or story of each song was made clear to us. ‘Joseph Smith’s First Prayer’ brought to us the story of the restoration of the gospel and the story of his life was made most impressive. ‘Come, Come, Ye Saints’ opened the door to the richness of pioneer achievement, faith, and loyalty. …
“… A testimony of Joseph Smith’s divine calling, of the authenticity of the Book of Mormon, and above all, the reality of our Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ, were the blessings derived from the family song and story hour.” My father further wrote: “My heart is filled with gratitude to my angel mother for … teaching me the doctrines of repentance, faith, baptism, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. She taught me the power and blessing of prayer, of the actual existence of the Father and the Son, and that Joseph Smith saw and talked to them when a boy fourteen years of age. We knew from her teaching that our Prophet saw other heavenly messengers … , and that through them the Church of Jesus Christ was restored to the earth.”

Once there was a bird whose feathers were beautiful. He sang lovely songs and flew very fast. He was proud of all he could do, and he thought no one was better than he.
One day a flea heard the bird singing. “Oh, I’m the best, the very, very best, the very best creature in the forest.”
“Are you sure?” asked the flea.
“What?” questioned the bird.
“Are you sure that you’re the very best creature in the forest?” the flea asked again.
“Of course,” answered the bird, as he looked all around. “Who’s talking to me, anyway? I can’t even see you.”
“Down here,” replied the flea.
Then the bird saw the flea and laughed. “Why you’re no bigger than a flea!” he snorted.
“That’s because I am a flea!” shouted the flea.
“What do you want?” asked the bird.
“I know that you’re more beautiful than I am,” the flea responded. “And I know that you can sing better than I can. But I wonder if you’re really faster than I am. Let’s have a race.”
“A race?” repeated the bird, hardly believing what he had heard. “You must be addled! I’m sure I’ll win.”
“Maybe,” said the flea. “Let’s try it anyway.”
“All right,” agreed the bird. “Where will we race to?”
“The pond on the other side of the forest,” the flea suggested, for the flea knew that the bird often went there to admire himself.
“Fine,” said the bird. “But who will start us off?”
“I will,” croaked a toad that was sitting nearby. “I will count to three, then you can go.”
The bird and the flea got ready …
“One, two, three!” cried the toad.
Just an instant before the bird took flight, the flea hopped onto the bird’s back and snuggled down among its feathers. But because the flea weighed so little, the bird did not feel it as they flew high over the trees. The flea was enjoying the ride. It had never been up so high. The flea was pleased that it had been so easy to hop on the bird. Just then they saw a big tree loaded with fruit.
That flea is so slow, the bird thought, it will take it all day to get to the pond. I have time to stop for a few minutes. Down flew the bird to the tree and ate and ate until he was full. Becoming sleepy, the bird’s eyes closed.
Nuts! worried the flea. I don’t want to sit here all day. Maybe the bird will forget about the race and never go to the pond. I must get there myself.
The flea jumped off the bird and scuttled down the tree. Hopping along through the forest, he became tired. “Oh, dear,” he sighed. “The pond is still far away. I should have stayed on the bird—he might wake up anytime.” Then the flea heard a dog barking. It was chasing a rabbit, and they were running toward the pond. “Aha!” cried the flea. “This is just what I need.”
First the rabbit sped past. Then, unnoticed by the dog as it ran by, the flea jumped onto its back. Away they went through the forest.
Good! thought the flea. I’ll beat that bird yet.
The dog ran on and on until it was quite close to the pond. Then suddenly it tripped on a stick and rolled over and over. The flea fell off, and before it could jump back onto the dog, the animal had run away.
“Oh, dear!” wailed the flea. “Why did I ever hop off the bird?” He looked up and could see the bird high in the sky.
Suddenly the flea saw a cat. This was its last chance. “Hello, cat,” said the flea. “I hope you can help me.”
“Oh?” replied the cat. “Why should I help you? I don’t like fleas.”
The flea told the cat about the race. “I see,” said the cat. “I’d like to teach that bird a lesson or two myself. Hop onto my back. I’ll take you to the pond.”
“Hurry!” urged the flea. “We want to surprise the bird.”
Soon they came to the pond where the toad was waiting. It was surprised to see the flea first. “Where is the bird?” asked the toad.
“He should be here soon,” replied the flea, hopping to the top of a tall bush.
“Here he comes,” said the cat. The bird flew down to the pond.
“I won!” declared the flea.
The bird did not know what to say. “How could you—” he began.
Suddenly the cat jumped … but not fast enough. Just in time the bird got away. The flea had won, and the cat had taken his beautiful tail feathers. The cat went away without supper.
“Come down from that bush,” the toad said to the flea. “I can’t see you very well.”
“No, I’ll tell you my story from here,” said the wise little flea, not to be tricked by the toad. And the toad hopped away without any supper either.

He and his younger brother and sister were raised by their mother after their father died. His mother taught him about faith, love, and setting goals.

A few years ago, my friend Jack swore a lot. I knew that Jesus and God didn’t want that. I asked him if he could stop swearing around me, and he had enough respect to stop. We’re best friends now.
Now whenever he hears someone swearing around me, he’ll apologize to me and ask them to stop. I think that’s really cool. He’s come to church a few times and even said a prayer. I asked the missionaries for a Book of Mormon and gave it to him.

He was worried when he started college and thought about giving up, but Sister Holland told him to have faith.

Elder Perry married his wife Virginia Lee in the _______ Temple on July 18, 1947. After Virginia died in 1974, Elder Perry later married Barbara Dayton.