Gospel Story Finder

This is how to make a Samoan umu. An umu is food cooked by hot stones. First we chop some wood and put the umu stones on top of them. Then we light the wood to make the stones very hot. While the stones are getting hot, we prepare the food. We scrape the skin off the taro with a coconut shell. We peel the skin of the bananas with a long flat stick. We wrap the food in banana leaves and put it on the hot stones. We cover the food with big banana leaves and sacks. After a while the food is cooked.
Paula Schwenke, Age 9Alamagoto, Upolu, Western Samoa

Charles C. Rich, on April 7, 1863, spoke of the need for a tabernacle in which to meet. He declared: “What shall I say in regard to the Tabernacle? We can see at once that we can enjoy … the blessings of such a house at the present time. If we put it off, when will it be built? When that house is built we can then enjoy the benefits and blessings which it will afford. The same principle may be applied to everything we take in hand, and with which we have to do, whether it be to build a Temple, … a Tabernacle, to send teams to the frontiers to gather the poor, or … do any other work that is required of us. Nothing that is required will be performed until we go to work and do something ourselves. We have no other people to lean upon, and therefore it remains for us to go to work and perform well our part.”
They went to work!

When my husband and I first got married, I was worried that family home evening with just the two of us would be awkward or would become repetitive. I thought we would run out of things to teach each other. But my husband surprised me on our first Monday night by saying, “I want to bear my testimony.” He proceeded to share his testimony of the Savior and of marriage. After his testimony, I shared mine. It was an evening I will always treasure. Though he had not known of my concern about family home evening, he answered it, and I found that each family home evening was a spiritual experience to look forward to.
Since then testimony sharing has remained a tradition in our family home evenings. Though we now have a toddler and we tailor lessons to her, we also don’t go without bearing our testimonies. I am excited for the day when I will be able to hear my children’s testimonies and when I can teach them why testimonies matter.
Heidi Icleanu, Kentucky, USA

Camille: “My family is the most important thing to me, and because of the blessings of the temple, I can be with them for eternity. My grandpa passed away a few months ago. He was really close to us. It’s been so hard on us, and it still really is. It’s wonderful to know that through the blessings of the temple, I can see him again if I do what’s right and endure to the end. I know that families are forever through the temple. That’s the greatest gift ever.”

“I have been guided to priesthood leaders who have been prepared to offer gifts essential in my healing,” recalled one reader. “My priesthood leaders have often looked scared to death as they have listened to my story and my request for assistance. But all of them have listened to the Spirit and have been guided in the words they spoke and the role they played.”

Three weeks ago I stepped into Yesterday. In that moment I rediscovered Today. And it is about Today that I wish to speak.
A Church assignment had carried me across the vast reaches of the Pacific to the land of Vietnam. For me, this was more than a flight over an ocean. It was a step back in time. More than 40 years ago, I had served on the battlefields of that land as an infantry officer. Etched in my mind over those intervening decades were memories of that place, its people, and my comrades in arms with whom I had served. Jacob once wrote, “Our lives passed away like … unto us a dream” (Jacob 7:26). So it had been for me. And now I was returning from my hall of memories to that place of memory after a near half century. My Church business concluded, I determined to once again visit those fields of desperate struggle. Accompanied by my dear wife, I made the pilgrimage.
I am not quite sure what I expected to find after so many years. What I did find was most unexpected. Instead of a war-ravaged people, I found a youthful, vibrant population. Instead of a countryside pockmarked by shell fire, I found peaceful, verdant fields. Even the jungle growth was new. I guess that I had half expected to find Yesterday, but what I found was Today and the promise of a bright Tomorrow. I was reminded that “weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning” (Psalm 30:5).
My pilgrimage back in time completed, I looked around upon those peaceful fields of Today and saw in their fertility the promise of Tomorrow. I thought of my friend Sergeant Arthur Cyrus Morris. I thought of that fateful Palm Sunday of Yesterday. And I was profoundly grateful for the Redeemer of Easter morning, who grants us life, whose descent below all things makes possible our rising above all things—Tomorrow, if we but seize Today. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The immediate need for Church members in New York was a place of gathering, and revelation identified two locations. One of these was in western Missouri, at a place near Independence, in Jackson Country. During the summer of 1831, the Prophet and others visited the area and selected a settlement site for a group of Saints migrating west from Colesville, New York. They called it—including Independence—Zion, the Center Place, because a revelation identified it as the future capital of the New Jerusalem. Joseph Smith set the cornerstone for a temple in Zion and ordained Edward Partridge a bishop to look after temporal affairs. He was the first bishop in the Church.

When I was six years old, I had a great time doing this family home evening. We learned about Moroni and the title of liberty. I found out that it represents obeying God. My family made a title of liberty. It is important to learn the ways of God when we are young so we can be ready for the challenges that await us when we are older. I believe in God, and I hope you do too. I enjoyed doing this family home evening lesson, and I think you should do it too.

Four-year-old Melanie stared at the white wall next to her hospital bed, trying to hold back the tears. Two big ones squeezed out onto her cheeks, anyway. She was trying hard to be brave, but hearing Susan laughing with her grandmother from the bed on the other side of the curtain was just too much. Melanie knew that no one would be coming to visit her today.
Yesterday Mommy had talked with her about the special temple session that she and Daddy had been asked to attend. “If I drive with Daddy to the temple tomorrow, I won’t be able to come and see you. The temple is just too far away. If you want, I’ll come to visit you by myself, and Daddy can drive to the temple with Brother and Sister Howard.”
Melanie knew how much Mommy loved to go to the temple. She and Daddy went to the temple every month, and Mommy always came home so calm and happy.
Besides, this was the third time Melanie had been in the hospital for surgery on her arm. She wasn’t afraid of the doctors and nurses as she had been at first. Most of the nurses had become her friends when Melanie was here before. She knew where the playroom was, and the daily routine was familiar. Best of all, soon she would be going home and would not need to have any more operations on her arm!
“I’ll be OK,” Melanie had told Mommy. “You can go to the temple with Daddy tomorrow.”
But that had been yesterday. Now it was after breakfast and past the time when Mommy and Daddy usually came to see her. Of course, Daddy always had to go to work, but Mommy usually stayed all day.
Melanie had watched her favorite show on the television this morning, but now it was over, and, oh, she was lonesome! A little sob slipped out of her mouth as two more tears slid down her cheeks.
Then Melanie remembered. She wasn’t really alone. She could pray to Heavenly Father!
As she remembered Mommy’s words, the lump in Melanie’s throat seemed to melt away. She bowed her head and closed her eyes.
“Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “I thank Thee for Mommy and Daddy. I thank Thee for Jesus and for the temple. Please help me to not be sad. Please bless Mommy and Daddy today. Help them to have a good day at the temple. Please help me to feel happy. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Melanie kept her eyes closed for a few minutes while a warm, peaceful feeling spread from the top of her head clear down to her toes. It was as if Mommy was there, giving her a hug.
Susan’s laughter rang out again. Melanie was glad that Susan’s grandmother was visiting her today. Susan was usually alone all day until her mommy came after work.
Melanie glanced over at her nightstand and saw the new coloring book and crayons that her grandmother had sent her. Soon she was so busy coloring that she didn’t notice the volunteer, Mrs. O’Driscoll, until she spoke. “Would you like a cold treat today, dear?”
“Oh yes, please. Do you have a red one? Red is my favorite.”
As she licked the sweet, cool treat, Melanie knew that Heavenly Father had answered her prayer.

How Oliver Olson Changed the World, by Claudia Mills, pictures by Heather Maione. Sometimes Oliver thinks his parents help him too much. When he and his classmate, Crystal, get some big ideas about their solar-system project, can Oliver convince his parents—and himself—that he can accomplish great things on his own?

When I was a child, a neighbor brought us food during a celebration. When our family receives such a gift, it is customary in my home for my father to decide when the family eats the food. This time, my father was not home. I desired so much to eat the food that I cried and begged my mother to give me some. My mother didn’t want to disrespect my father’s traditional role, but she also didn’t want me to be unhappy. She cut some of the food and gave me a little to eat.
Later, when my father came home, he was unhappy about what I had done. He invited me into his room and told me he was disappointed that I had not shown contentment for what I already had. He taught me that peace of mind and a good life are only for those who are content with what they have.

Two years ago, my youngest brother, Chad, stepped through the veil. His transition to the other side left a hole in the heart of my sister-in-law Stephanie; their two small children, Braden and Bella; as well as the rest of the family. We found comfort in the words of Elder Neil L. Andersen in general conference the week before Chad died: “In the crucible of earthly trials, patiently move forward, and the Savior’s healing power will bring you light, understanding, peace, and hope” (“Wounded,” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2018, 85).
We have faith in Jesus Christ; we know we will join Chad again, but losing his physical presence hurts! Many have lost loved ones. It is hard to be patient and wait for the time we will rejoin them.
The year after he died, we felt like a dark cloud overshadowed us. We sought refuge in studying our scriptures, praying with more fervency, and attending the temple more frequently. The lines from this hymn capture our feelings at the time: “The day dawn is breaking, the world is awaking, the clouds of night’s darkness are fleeing away” (“The Day Dawn Is Breaking,” Hymns, no. 52).
Our family determined that 2020 would be a refreshing year! We were studying our Come, Follow Me lesson in the New Testament book of James in late November 2019 when a theme revealed itself to us. James, chapter 1, verse 2 reads, “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into many afflictions” (Joseph Smith Translation, James 1:2 [in James 1:2, footnote a]). In our desire to open a new year, a new decade, with joy, we decided that in 2020 we would “count it all joy.” We felt so strongly about it that last Christmas we gifted our siblings T-shirts that said in bold letters, “Count It All Joy.” The year 2020 would surely be a year of joy and rejoicing.
Well, here we are—2020 instead brought the global COVID-19 pandemic, civil unrest, more natural disasters, and economic challenges. Our Heavenly Father may be allowing us time to reflect and consider our understanding of patience and our conscious decision to choose joy.

It felt good to relax and have lunch at Sheep Camp. It had been the temporary home of thousands during the stampede. Now we were alone.
“I felt good today,” Yvette commented with a cheery grin. “After my pack broke yesterday, I didn’t think I could make it. But I said a prayer; and do you know, I could actually feel the strength flow into my legs! It’s wonderful!”

Having sufficient humility in our lives to help establish the Church is particularly valuable. An example in Church history is revealing. In June of 1837, the Prophet Joseph was inspired while in the Kirtland Temple to call Apostle Heber C. Kimball to take the gospel of Jesus Christ to “England … and open the door of salvation to that nation.” Apostle Orson Hyde and a few others were assigned to accompany him. Elder Kimball’s response was remarkable. “The idea of being appointed to such an important mission was almost more than I could bear. … [I] was nearly ready to sink under the burden which was placed upon me.” Nevertheless, he undertook the mission with absolute faith, commitment, and humility.

As a fashion coordinator at a store in California a couple of years ago, I received varied responses to my hemline. Many cheered its length; mothers pointed it out to their young daughters; others asked why I didn’t raise it. Being involved in fashion, I merely explained that the “in” thing was “doing your own thing.” I fashioned much of what I wore, which was often rather different from the norm, but it expressed my personality, and I was, therefore, very comfortable with it.

The brothers started attending the meetings of El Dorado Ward, Florencio Varela Argentina Stake. On 29 September 1999, with their parents’ permission, Matías and Elías were baptized.
They continued to learn just how spiritually rich they could become. Two weeks after his baptism, for example, Matías received the Aaronic Priesthood and was ordained a deacon. “I immediately felt that I had received power from heaven,” he says. He also felt the influence of the Holy Ghost, a gift he had received when he was confirmed a member of the Church.
“I had been tempted to start wearing an earring,” he says. “Then I received a booklet that told me how to dress for church and activities. After I read that, I repented. My mother asked me if I was going to put the earring in again. I told her I didn’t feel right about wearing it anymore. That was it. I felt strength in being able to overcome temptation. I felt the Spirit whispering to me and telling me to do what was right.”

This was well illustrated in my father’s patriarchal blessing. He was told in his blessing that he would be blessed with “many beautiful daughters.” He and my mother became the parents of five sons. There were no daughters born to them, but of course they treated the wives of their sons as daughters. Recently when we had a family reunion, I saw my father’s granddaughters moving about tending to the food and ministering to the young children and the elderly, and the realization came to me that father’s blessing had been literally fulfilled; he has, indeed, many beautiful daughters. The patriarch who gave my father his blessing had spiritual vision to see beyond my father’s mortal life. There was a disappearance of the dividing line between time and eternity.

All my life I was taught that there was no God. Little did I know how that would change when I applied to be a high school exchange student in the United States, representing the Czech Republic. When I filled out the application, one question was “What is your religious preference?” I knew most Americans were Christian, so that was what I wrote down. But I was a nonbeliever.
With anticipation, I awaited the outcome of my application. Where would I live?
I was assigned to the Grant and Jewel Hodson family, Latter-day Saints in Utah. Where is Utah? Mormons? Who are they? I looked up Utah in books, and I looked up Mormons too. The books said terrible things about the Church and especially about Joseph Smith. I spent my last night at home crying. I was terrified.
My mother assured me that everything would be all right, and if I didn’t like the family or Utah, I could come home or be assigned to another family.
When I arrived in Utah, Emily, one of the daughters, came to pick me up. She was 16 years old, wearing normal, casual clothes, and she was so nice. I thought, “Wow! This might not be that bad after all!” The whole family was warm and welcoming to me.
I experienced quite a cultural adjustment. I saw that my host family prayed before every meal and before they went to bed. They didn’t drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes. They lived moral lives. Everything was totally opposite of how the teenagers I had known lived.
And it seemed that almost everybody I met was a member of the LDS Church. I was impressed that when these people spoke about their church, they would say, “I know,” not, “I believe.” Never before had I heard such conviction in religious statements. If these people could know, I reasoned, there must be a way for me to know too. I was the sort of person who had to know, because if I accepted the teachings of the Church, I would have to make changes in my lifestyle and in my future plans.
With a strong desire to know for myself about the truthfulness of the Church, I watched the example of my host family. They didn’t proselytize, but the way they lived made me want to know what was behind their actions. I had never seen such faith.
I heard a Church leader say, “People will want to know Christ because they know you.” I wanted to know Christ because I knew the Hodsons. They were a great example to me of the way a family should live.
I began praying. I prayed for three weeks and nothing happened. I was a little discouraged. I thought that maybe I was not worthy to feel God’s love.
That same week I decided to join the Hodsons’ traditional family testimony meeting on the first Sunday of the month. The mother, Jewel, asked me if I would like to say anything. I said, “Sure.” But I thought, “What am I going to say?”
Since everybody had expressed appreciation, I thought I could at least express my appreciation to the Hodsons for all they had done for me. They had been so patient with me. They treated me as their own daughter and had never pushed me into anything. I would express my true gratitude.
I was the last to speak. I stood up and started saying how grateful I was for their kindness and patience and also for their desire to teach me about God. All of a sudden, a strong, overwhelming feeling came over me. The language barrier was gone; I had no problem speaking English. I was fluent for the first time! I had never felt anything like this before. I spoke as I was inspired. It was such a warm, beautiful feeling. I was quietly being taught, “You know what you are saying is true. You know I exist. You know.”
And I did know! With tears in my eyes, I sat down. I thought, “What was that?” Answering as though she had heard my question, my host mother quietly spoke, “What you are feeling is the Spirit.” All I could think was “Wow! It is true!”
With my parents’ permission, I asked my host father to baptize me into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a happy day for me. I felt so clean and fresh! In addition to my host family, I was surrounded by many members from my ward who came to support me. I appreciated that so much.

The evening before each of the temple dedications took place, magnificent cultural events were held. In Curitiba, Brazil, 4,330 members from the temple district, supported by a choir of 1,700 voices, presented a most inspirational program through song, dance, and video. The enormous soccer stadium where the event took place was filled with spectators. The wind had been blowing, and rain threatened. I offered a silent prayer asking Heavenly Father to look with mercy upon those who had prepared so diligently for our entertainment and whose costumes and presentations would be damaged if a heavy rain or wind enveloped them. He honored that prayer, and it wasn’t until the end of the show and later on that evening that rain fell in abundance.

Years ago my great-great-grandfather picked up a copy of the Book of Mormon for the first time. He opened it to the center and read a few pages. He then declared, “That book was either written by God or the devil, and I am going to find out who wrote it.” He read it through twice in the next 10 days and then declared, “The devil could not have written it—it must be from God.”