Gospel Story Finder

On June 2, 2002, my little granddaughter, Susan Melina, who was only seven months old, became ill, and her parents took her to the hospital. The doctors diagnosed her with a kidney infection. She also developed a serious bacterial infection that spread throughout her system, causing damage to her heart, liver, spleen, kidneys, lungs, and nervous and digestive systems. She was so ill she was admitted to intensive care.
The doctors advised her parents to prepare themselves because she could die at any time. She remained in intensive care for 26 days, during which time she was given antibiotics and many transfusions. Meanwhile, we, her family, fasted often and asked God for a miracle, for a complete healing—if it was His will. Two priesthood brethren anointed and blessed her.
When Susan Melina had been in the hospital for two weeks, her mother became ill also and had emergency surgery for appendicitis. This was a difficult trial for the whole family.
Twenty days after Susan Melina entered the hospital, she was no better. But because of the generosity of a person we didn’t even know, her parents were able to move her to a private hospital where she would receive better care.
One Saturday at noon I received a telephone call from my daughter, Susan Carolina. I was in the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple, where I work in a custodial position. My daughter told me that her baby’s condition had worsened and that the infection had now lodged in one of the ventricles of her heart. According to the doctors, it was hard to do anything to help her because she was completely malnourished. She was so ill that it was dangerous to hold her because it could cause internal bleeding. When I learned about the situation, I immediately began to pray to my Heavenly Father. Once again I fasted.
The next day, Sunday, my daughter called and told me that the bacteria had completely disappeared. The doctors were releasing Susan Melina on Monday because she was out of danger.
As we rejoiced in this great miracle, we realized that not every prayer of faith is answered so quickly in the way we desire. But I am infinitely grateful to Heavenly Father. I have no doubt that He lives and hears our prayers.

I’ve always had anxiety. When I was 17, I noticed that most of my anxiety attacks occurred at church.
I was always told that if I’d read the scriptures, say my prayers, and go to church, I’d be happy. Well, that wasn’t the case for me. I’d enjoy the first few minutes of church, and then a panic attack would begin.
My bishop helped me realize that the spiritual expectations I had set for myself may be the cause. I thought I had to have the same miraculous spiritual experiences I heard about. It made sense to me that this pressure could cause my repeated attacks.

I don’t know what my future’s going to be like, and without the Lord, I’d be pretty scared. But I recently got my patriarchal blessing, and it helps me feel confident that whatever happens, I’ll be OK. Reading the scriptures and saying my prayers every day has also helped me through a lot. Without Jesus Christ, I know that my struggles would feel so much worse. He helps me feel peace even when things are hard.

A letter was given to me, written by a young man whose twin brother had been killed while on an activity in Big Cottonwood Canyon east of Salt Lake City. His quorum leader grieved over the loss of one of his boys whom he had been called to serve, to teach, to inspire, and to motivate. He received comfort, as an adviser, in the help our Heavenly Father provided him in the answers to his prayers. He was asked to speak at the funeral of the deceased boy. It was a difficult assignment, but he fulfilled it. Then he received a letter from the surviving twin. The letter is the finest letter he has ever received in mortality. With his permission, I’ll share it:
“Dear Brother Cannegieter:
“I’d like to thank you for the talk you gave at Brian’s funeral. You told about all those wonderful times we had with Brian that I had almost forgotten. Brian and I both thought you were the best adviser and the best teacher we ever had, because you really cared about us and gave us your time. You taught us very important lessons and provided us advice from your own experience in life.
“We are going to miss Brian very much, and we will never forget the example of living life to its fullest and of courage and of dedication that he gave to us.
“I love you, Brother Cannegieter, and I hope I can be as smart and understanding and caring as you are. I hope I will really listen and get to know people like you do.
“I’d like to thank you for everything you have done for us.”
This is the comfort that comes to the heart of a person who loves his neighbor as himself. The same comfort will come to the heart of the person who loves God.

Mike didn’t travel to compete in track or field this year, even though he especially enjoys that area of competition. He says, “The games kept me away from home too much. I miss my track and field, but my family comes first.”

Jan adds, “Mike made the decision. He was the one who decided to stay home and be a husband, father, and gardener.”

Mike and Jan have a beautifully landscaped yard and garden. Jan sewed two pairs of Levis together for Mike to keep the burrs out while he works in the yard. His young sons and Jan work with him.

Boy, was it snowing now! Little snowflakes had fallen off and on all day, but up until now the roads had been clear. Grandpa’s ranch, where we were going for Thanksgiving, was on the Smithfork River. There are no major roads in that part of the Colorado Rockies, just little two-lane highways.
“Would you look at that cloud!” Dad’s voice startled us in the quiet car.
Connie and I scooted to the middle of the back seat and squinted between my parents. Looming in front of us, completely covering old Saddle Mountain, was a cloud as black as a cellar.
“I don’t think we’d better be on the road when that thing rolls off the mountain,” Dad said almost too quietly. “If I cut across Missouri Flats, we can be at Grandpa’s in thirty or forty minutes and maybe beat that thing.”
“But isn’t that a gravel road?” Mom asked.
“Yes, but I know it well, and it’s all snowpacked just like this.”
“Let’s just hurry, Mac. Only don’t have an accident.”
I alternated watching out the side windows and watching the monster cloud out the front. The wind started blowing, and when it came, it didn’t come all nice and gradual. It came like a wall and jolted the car. Suddenly the back of the car fishtailed, and we were all thrown to the passenger side. Dad immediately slid back under the steering wheel and restarted the motor, but we sank deeper into the soft snow despite all Dad’s efforts.
“Mac?” Mom’s voice was hardly a whisper.
“We’re OK,” Dad replied. “We have our lap robes to help us keep warm, and I don’t think we’re far from the old Dietche place. We ought to be able to go there for help if this doesn’t let up soon.”
“There’s a stockmen’s advisory and travelers’ warning for the mountain regions tonight and tomorrow,” the radio droned a half hour later. “The first major storm of the winter is descending on most of Colorado, with high winds and heavy snow expected—”
Dad snapped off the radio and grinned at us. “OK, this is going to be great!” He sounded exuberant. “This may be our grandest adventure yet.” (Whenever things went wrong, Dad called it an adventure.) “Just up the hill and off to the right is a sturdy barn belonging to Mr. Dietche. It’s nice and tight against the wind and probably has some hay in it. We can stay warm there for a long time. Lilly, hand me the flashlight and matches in the glove compartment, please. I’ll carry them. Connie, I want you to hold my hand with one of yours, and your mother’s with the other. Michael will hold Mother’s other hand; then you all follow me. Whatever you do, don’t let go of anyone’s hand. Do you understand me? Don’t let go for anything!”
We kind of dragged each other through the snow. Even Dad fell a few times. I don’t know how Dad found the barn. I didn’t see it until we were actually inside the half-open double doors on the sheltered side of the structure.
The barn was dark and smelled of musty hay and animals, but the wind didn’t blow through it. We shut the doors, and Dad flicked on his flashlight. Next to me something shuffled, heaved a sigh, and gave a terrible moan. I jumped, Connie screamed, and Dad spun his flashlight into the sober face of a brown and white cow. “Well, it looks like we have company,” he chuckled.
“She scared me,” Connie giggled.
Dad began to explore. Soon he shouted, “Hey, look what I found!” and started fussing with an object on the floor.
It was an old kerosene lantern, and it was almost full of oil. In a few moments a dim but steady light illuminated our surroundings. One entire end of the barn was filled with baled hay. The five stalls were large, clean, and empty, so the cow was apparently a temporary resident also.
“Look out below!” This time Dad’s voice echoed from the dark loft above. A large mound of hay whooshed onto the middle of the floor. Several smaller piles followed irregularly. The hay dust billowed through the barn, and we all started sneezing. Dad scrambled down the wood ladder, saying, “Now I need everyone’s help with the rest of our accommodations.” He was really having fun.
We hauled bales of hay into the middle stall and built a wall of them higher than its wooden ones. We found loose pieces of wood, laid them across the top, then covered them with armloads of hay. We spread more loose hay on the floor. When it was about two feet thick, Mom spread two lap robes on one side of the stall, crawled onto the far side of them, and lay down. “Come on, Connie—you next. When we’re all in, we’ll put the other two robes over us, then pull the rest of the hay on top to keep us warm.”
“This really is an adventure,” I laughed as I crawled in next to my sister. “Come on, Dad.”
“Just a minute. I’ve one more thing to do.”
The doorway darkened as Dad reappeared and backed into our homemade cave, leading the cow. “We don’t want her to get cold, do we?” he asked. “Besides, we need her body heat in here.”
The cow lay at the far side of the stall. Dad closed the stall door, turned the lantern off, lay down, and we all helped get the other lap robes and hay over us. It was real dark, and I could hear the cold wind blasting outside, but I was beginning to feel very warm and cozy.
“Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, …” Mom started to sing.
“But, Mom, it’s not even Thanksgiving,” I protested.
“No, but like Joseph and Mary, we’re travelers, too, Son,” Dad said quietly. “And this is a sort of stable, and we even have a cow. I think that it’s just the right kind of song for us tonight.”
Mom sang it again, then “Silent Night,” then a Spanish carol.
When I awoke, everyone was gone. “Mom! Dad!” I shouted.
“We’re all up here, Michael,” Connie yelled from the loft.
I groped around, trying to get out of the hay, and fell against the warm back of the old cow. She just looked around at me—sort of pleadingly, I thought—and didn’t even moo. I scrambled up the ladder to where my family stood. The loft door was open, and I could see that the snow had drifted so high that it was only a few feet below the loft floor. The wind had stopped, but huge snowflakes continued to fall rapidly.
“I’m hungry,” Connie complained.
Nobody had a satisfactory answer for that, so we just stared at the snow again.
“That bump over there must be our car,” Dad said as he sighted down his arm.
“There’s no way to get there right now, Mac,” Mom said.
“No, I suppose not.”
“There’s nothing to eat there, anyway, except two candy bars in the trunk. I was saving them for the ride home,” Mom added.
Just then the cow gave a long, low bellow.
“That’s it!” Dad cried. “You guys wait here. I have to see if I can find something.”
Mom began to smile, but she wouldn’t tell us what Dad was doing. We could hear him rummaging in the stalls and bins. After a while, he called, “Michael, come here. I need a hand.”
I scrambled down the ladder, feeling very important that Dad needed me. He was holding the cow’s halter with one hand, a bucket with the other.
“Come on, Mike, we’re going to get breakfast. Take this pail and ladle and clean them out with snow. This old girl is hurting. She needs to be milked, so we’ll help her and have some warm, fresh milk as our reward.”
I was sort of dubious, but milk did sound better than candy for breakfast. Besides, Dad had grown up on a farm and knew what he was doing. “OK,” I said, “I’ll get these as clean as I can.”
Soon the milk was pounding into the old bucket. As it rose in the pail, Dad adjusted his grip a little. “Milkers always develop a strong grip,” he said, “but it’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”
I was tired of watching and getting hungrier by the minute. I thought that if Dad would show me how, I could both help him and divert my thoughts from my own stomach. Boy—I learned fast just how strong a farmer has to be! Besides my hands cramping on me, my back began to ache from hunching over to reach the udder. I leaned my head against the cow’s warm flank. She didn’t move, and it helped ease my back.
When we were done, we put the cow into another stall with some more loose hay. Then we all sat on our blankets and bowed our heads while Dad thanked Heavenly Father that we were safe and warm and that we had this milk. He blessed it and also prayed that Grandpa and Grandma wouldn’t worry too much and that we might soon be with them. Then we all took turns drinking milk. Connie said that warm milk sounded yucky, but she drank more than anybody else—and I drank four ladlefuls!
The barn was really neat. I found another bucket, and we melted snow in it for us and the cow. I also found a broken file, a bridle bit, and an old currycomb. I brushed the cow real good late in the afternoon, after Dad and I milked her again. Dad said that you didn’t normally curry cows, but it was all I could think to do for her having given us her milk. Connie felt the same way, so I let her help.
The next morning it had stopped snowing, and Mr. Dietche came on his snowmobile, looking for his cow. He hauled us out on his snowmobile and a sled, and we were at Grandpa’s ranch in no time. Grandma had saved Thanksgiving dinner, so we had it that night, after Dad and I helped Grandpa milk his cows. The turkey and potatoes sure tasted good, but what I’ll always remember is the milk from our Thanksgiving cow.

You know the scripture in 2 Nephi 32:5, where Nephi tells us, “The Holy Ghost … will show unto [us] all things what [we] should do”? I never really understood that statement until I experienced it.
Some friends and I were out on our bikes one afternoon at a place called the “dirt hills.” It was our favorite place to go. We went there almost every day. It was only about a mile from where we lived, so we could ride our bikes there. We could literally spend hours on end at the dirt hills, jumping our bikes. It was great fun.
One time when we were there, my friend Tyler crashed his bike. He and his bike seemed to be OK, so we kept jumping. After about five more minutes, I stopped my bike. Tyler came over and asked what was wrong. I told him I had a really strong feeling that we should leave and go home. I felt kind of weird saying that because we had only been there about 15 minutes. But Tyler told me he felt the same feeling. I knew it was time to go.
As we got closer to home, Tyler kept saying his bike was acting strange. Then it broke into pieces as we reached the corner of the street where we both lived. The pedals fell off and the chain broke.
What would have happened had we not followed the prompting to leave? The Holy Ghost knew it was time to go. He showed us that it was time.
I am so thankful we listened to the Spirit when we did.

Paul Schulte is the kind of guy anyone would want on their team: kind, unassuming, talented. And Paul loves basketball. That love didn’t diminish when he was in a serious car accident several years ago. In fact, playing from a wheelchair doesn’t seem to have slowed Paul down at all.
Paul was selected as the youngest member of the USA Wheelchair Basketball Team to play at the Gold Cup games in Sydney, Australia. A freshman at the University of Texas at Arlington, Paul is active in the institute of religion program and in his ward.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles joined in a global videoconference originating in Windsor, England. Conference speakers discussed the mental and emotional health of millions of people in refugee camps. Elder Holland called for support to allow refugees to express “the very religious faith that gives them their identity.” Sister Sharon Eubank, First Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency and president of Latter-day Saint Charities, also participated in the conference.

Others might remember him as a 17-year-old speaking during the April 1983 general conference priesthood session.
Elder Holland remembers that speaking in general conference was daunting. Prepping a message that eventually came “line upon line, precept upon precept” (2 Nephi 28:30) became “an early, reassuring blessing to know that when you accept assignments from the Lord, He will help you and give you the thoughts and impressions of things that need to be shared.”

When I was growing up, one of my jobs was to burn the trash. I would gather the garbage from the house. I’d put it in a big metal barrel in the backyard. Then I would light a match and drop it in the barrel.
One day it was really windy, and the match just wouldn’t stay lit. I decided to make a torch out of newspaper. I thought that way the flame would last long enough to light the trash on fire. I remembered that it wasn’t smart to play with fire, but I ignored the warning feeling. I rolled up some newspaper into a cone, lit it with a match, and dropped it into the barrel.
Whoosh! The strong wind made the newspaper burst into flames, and the trash quickly caught fire. Big flames blew past my face. Luckily most of my hair was pulled back into a ponytail. But my bangs were singed into crisp little wisps! My eyelashes were gone, and my eyebrows too. It just happened so fast!
That taught me a lesson: if you play with something dangerous, you can get hurt! Our parents and the Holy Ghost warn us to avoid dangerous things like pornography and drugs. If we choose to ignore the warnings, there are harmful consequences.
I’m grateful that my hair grew back over time. That’s like repentance. When we make wrong choices, we can choose to change. We can be forgiven because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. No matter how young or old we are, our Savior is always there to help us. We can feel peace again, just like on the day we were baptized.
Heavenly Father gave us commandments because He loves us. He wants to protect and help us. What wonderful gifts Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ have given us!

The Roberts Idaho Stake Young Women celebrated the 113th anniversary of the organization of the Young Women in an evening of old-fashioned fun with the theme “From Bonnets to Blue Jeans.”
Mothers and daughters were invited. Each one attending was given a bonnet to wear. Mother-and-daughter teams had contests churning butter, challenging each other in a spelling bee, and learning the Virginia Reel to the music of a fiddler.
Each girl had embroidered blocks which were then joined together and made into a quilt. The quilt was presented as a surprise to their recently released stake president as a gift of gratitude.

Benjamín De Hoyos explains to a radio program director that the Church’s long name was chosen by the Savior.

Another example of dedication is found in the life of Julia Smith Ballard. Julia made a burial suit for one of her little nephews when she was sixteen and another the next year for one of her sisters. She found satisfaction in this occupation and took it up as a lifetime call. For the next thirty-five years she made temple and burial clothing for more than 400 persons, nearly all without special remuneration.22 At one time one of her daughters—she had twelve children—had been promised a new dress for a special occasion. She rushed home from school full of anticipation only to find her mother sewing on burial clothes. Her disappointment was so great that she burst into tears and said, “I wish folks would quit dying so us kids could have something to wear.”23 Thus did Julia show her love for the gospel.

My family moved a lot while I was growing up. Adjusting to new places was difficult, but by my freshman year of high school, I loved where we lived. Everything changed, though, when my grandpa passed away and my parents decided to move closer to my grandma. I dreaded moving again. I’d worked hard to get involved at school and make friends.
I became resentful and argued with my parents about moving. My parents encouraged me to pray about it. I tried but didn’t receive any answers. Despite my frustration, I decided to pray one more time. Before I could start, I heard a clear voice in my mind say, “Rachel, you aren’t getting an answer because you don’t want one.” I was stunned. After a moment, I began to pray differently. I poured out my heart to Heavenly Father and asked what He needed me to do.
The feeling I received was that my family needed to move. After humbling myself and accepting what Heavenly Father wanted, I felt at peace. It wasn’t always easy, but I knew we were where the Lord needed us to be. This experience helped me draw closer to my Savior and to move closer to becoming the person He needs me to be.
Rachel H., Washington, USA

After recounting the loss of his mother shortly before Christmas in 1930 and the difficult loss of his wife in 2004, President Hinckley said: “Shining through all of the darkness is the sublime figure of the Son of God, who gave His life that we might live. This is the true meaning of Christmas, the reality of the Atonement wrought by the Redeemer of the world.”

When I want to take the dollar that is sitting on the shelf
And go down to the drugstore so I can treat myself,
And I’m sure Mom won’t remember that she left it there last night,
I tell myself that only I
Can make me choose the right.

I think of Oliver Cowdery. Here was a man who gave up his work as a teacher to go to assist the Prophet Joseph Smith in the translation of the Book of Mormon. While so serving, a question arose concerning baptism. The answer to their prayer was the bestowal of the Aaronic Priesthood under the hands of John the Baptist.
It was Oliver Cowdery also who, in company with the Prophet Joseph Smith, experienced the laying on of hands of Peter, James, and John, the Apostles who had received the priesthood from the Lord Himself while in mortality. It was Oliver Cowdery who became a witness of the plates from which the Book of Mormon was translated. He became the second elder in the Church. He was one of the three who were asked by the Prophet to seek out the first Twelve Apostles in this dispensation. He instructed them in words that ring with power down to this day.
And yet this same Oliver Cowdery let a few trivial things get in his way. He became disaffected and sullen and critical of Joseph Smith. The spirit of apostasy gnawed at him until he left the Church.
He later came back, asking only to be accepted as a member. Of him Wilford Woodruff declared:
“I have seen Oliver Cowdery when it seemed as though the earth trembled under his feet. I never heard a man bear a stronger testimony than he did when under the influence of the Spirit. But the moment he left the kingdom of God, that moment his power fell like lightning from Heaven. He was shorn of his strength like Samson in the lap of Delilah. He lost the power and the testimony which he had enjoyed, and he never recovered it again in its fulness while in the flesh, although he died in the Church” (Stanley R. Gunn, Oliver Cowdery—Second Elder and Scribe, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1962, page 73).

Just before my twentieth birthday, I was called on a mission to Finland, where I used both the Finnish and Russian languages. I loved teaching the gospel, particularly in a foreign language. Consequently, when I returned home, I continued my study of Russian. I liked the language, and I wanted to teach it. I also hoped that someday I would be able to teach the gospel in countries where missionaries were not yet allowed to preach the gospel.
After I graduated from the university, I worked in the Family History Department of the Church and was assigned to the countries in Eastern Europe. Whenever I traveled to Poland, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Hungary, and other countries, I felt that the time was not far off when the Church would be able to send missionaries to them. There was a special feeling among the people. They desired the freedom they knew others in the world enjoyed. More and more they could see and hear about freedom on TV and on the radio. The people were tired of not being able to solve their problems or become what they wanted to be. In many countries the people also wanted to know about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. These important changes in the people, and other changes in their governments, led to the introduction of the gospel into their countries.
In 1987 I was called as president of the Austria Vienna East Mission, which was created to work with the countries in Eastern Europe. The mission began with just a very few missionaries, and the number of baptisms was small. Now many missionaries are serving in countries like Russia, Bulgaria, Poland, Hungary, and Greece, where people only a few years ago could not worship Heavenly Father as they wanted. Many people are listening to the missionaries and are accepting the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Illustrations by Maine Diaz
Josh showed Calvin his car. It was really cool! When Josh left the table, Calvin put the car in his pocket. Josh came back and frowned. “Where’s my car?” Calvin was quiet. The car felt heavy in Calvin’s pocket. At recess, Calvin didn’t feel like playing. He felt bad for taking the car. Calvin gave the car to Josh. “I’m sorry I took it,” Calvin said. Josh smiled. “That’s OK. Do you want to come to my house and play cars?” Calvin smiled. “Sure!”
Josh and Calvin are having fun playing with their cars. Can you find 10 more cars in Josh’s room?