Gospel Story Finder

I’d like to say I made a great impression when I met Janette Burhold, but that would be a lie. I had just turned ten, and for my coming of age, my older brother Dan and his friends took me horseback riding. Dan even let me put on my own saddle for the first time.
“Don’t cinch the saddle up too tight,” said Dan. “It might bother the horse.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said. Dan and his friends all began to snicker. I didn’t know what was funny so I just smiled back.
We trotted out of our drive and started down the lane of our small Canadian town. There was a new girl, about my age, living in the house on the end of our road. I’d seen her in church the week before, and there she was waving to us as we rode up. We all waved back.
Well, to be honest, I didn’t wave. I was too petrified of girls to move, but I thought the impressive sight of me atop our black mare would set her heart to fluttering.
“Nice horses,” she called out. I grinned back, gaining confidence. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“We’re just riding up to the old barn,” said Dan, pointing up the hill.
“Wish I knew how to ride,” she said. “My mom said we might get a horse.”
I was going to say something at that moment. Something profound and impressive. But instead, my world collapsed around me. I shifted my weight a little and my horse let out a great breath. Before I knew what was happening, the saddle and me had slipped underneath the horse. I was still in the saddle, but I was upside down.
Dan and his friends were wailing with laughter. Even the new girl was laughing. I was humiliated.
“Shut up,” I said as I let go and tumbled to the ground.
“Didn’t you cinch your saddle up tight?” asked the girl. “Even I know you’re supposed to do that.”
That’s how I met Janette Burhold.
Over the next few years I gradually overcame my fear of girls, but never my fear of Janette. I saw her every school day, and every Sunday. But on those rare occasions I’d finally get enough courage to say something to her, I’d end up doing something really embarrassing before I got my first word out.
One time I sat down next to her in the cafeteria, and before starting in on my carefully rehearsed, spontaneous conversation, I opened a can of soda that exploded. It sprayed my head making my hair stand straight up all afternoon. Another time I walked into school determined to break the ice with Janette. Of course, after I’d been told I had a line of toothpaste drool down the front of my green T-shirt, I lost my nerve. By about 14, I gave up the idea of ever talking to Janette.
When we turned 16, Janette went to work after school in the only cafe in our small town. On my way home after wrestling practice each day, I would walk slowly by the cafe hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Dan told me I was crazy not to ask Janette out. Everyone at school knew I had a crush on her. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything about it.
In Sunday School I was taught to have self-confidence. Unfortunately I couldn’t convince my tongue or my sweat glands to believe that. When I saw Janette, all I could think was how skinny I was, why my face wouldn’t clear up, or why my voice sounded like the noise a saxophone makes when you blow it wrong.
And then, Woody McCrae moved to town and I knew all hope was lost. He was tall, athletic, good looking, rich, and he even had his own pickup. Janette and her friends stood in the halls and giggled in admiration as he walked by.
To the female population of my high school, Woody was Aristotle, Hercules, and Steve Martin rolled into one. He’d pepper his conversations with phrases like “Cold out, ain’t it?” and any girl around him would laugh and grin like she’d just discovered teeth.
On a Tuesday night in December, Dan and I were doing homework upstairs. After a short chuckle, Dan looked up from basic algebra.
“What?” I asked.
“Guess who’s been giving Janette a ride home from the cafe every night?”
“What do I care?” I said, as nonchalantly as possible.
He shrugged and turned back to his book.
“Okay, who?”
“Woody McCrae,” said Dan.
My heart stopped. I pictured Janette riding in Woody’s yellow truck. They’d probably be married by the weekend.
“You waited too long,” said Dan, grinning. “Woody got to her first.”
“You don’t get to a girl like Janette,” I said back.
“Well, you didn’t.”
“What I mean is, just because he’s taken her home a few times doesn’t mean they’re going out … does it?”
Dan shook his head. “I’d still ask her out if I were you,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to lose. Plus, if you don’t you’ll regret it.”
“You don’t just ask a girl like Janette out,” I said. “It’s not that easy.”
Dan sat on the edge of his bed. “Look, chucklehead. You’re just going to walk the girl home, maybe ask her to a movie. You’re not going to get married. It’s just for fun. You’ve got a lot to talk about—you’re both Church members, you’re both in the same grade at school. And if you run out of stuff to say just talk about me. I’m a great conversation topic.”
What Dan said actually made sense. I’d worried about dating Janette for years ahead of time, and then, when I could date her, I was petrified. Dating wasn’t supposed to be stressful; it was supposed to be fun.
“So, how would you do it?” I asked. “How would you ask her out? I can’t compete with Woody’s vehicle … or his looks.”
“I don’t know,” said Dan. “But I wouldn’t look at everything that was wrong with the situation. I’d look at everything that was right. I’d think about what I have to offer and not what I didn’t have.”
After wrestling practice the next afternoon, I passed the cafe again. I walked back and forth a dozen times before getting the nerve to walk in. Finally I took a deep breath, made sure my shirt was tucked in, and walked through the door. I took a seat at the counter and when Janette said hi and asked what I needed, I mumbled that I wanted a chocolate milk shake. I looked around at the few people in the cafe and was sure they were all watching me.
“Kinda cold out there for a milk shake,” Janette said. She was wiping off the counter in front of me. I looked out the window at the falling snow.
“Oh, I like the cold,” I said, instantly regretting it. Why hadn’t I said something really cool? Then I looked into her green eyes, and she smiled and went off to make the shake. I took her smile as encouragement. The other customers were still watching me. I couldn’t get comfortable with them in there. I wished they would leave.
A minute or so later, Janette placed the shake on the counter and left the bill.
“Thanks,” I said, trying a deep voice and instantly regretting that too.
Janette turned back to me. “Are you okay, Andrew? You’re acting kind of weird.”
“Whatdoyoumean?” I blurted out.
“Oh, nothing.”
“No, no, no. Iwannaknowwhatyoumeant.” I couldn’t slow down. I was on a runaway train to embarrassment.
“I don’t know,” Janette said. “I shouldn’t say anything. I mean, even though we’ve known each other for years, we’ve never really talked. So I guess I don’t know if something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, as slowly as my mouth would let me. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Okay,” she said, smiling. She turned to leave.
“There is something right, though.”
Janette was looking at me with the sweetest expression on her face. The world was a good place, and I was going to make it even better.
“I came in today to ask if you would …”
And then the door opened and a bolt of lightning flashed. In an instant, my brave notions were burned to a crisp. It was Woody McCrae. Janette looked up and smiled even brighter.
“Hi, Woody.”
Woody nodded at her and slid onto the seat beside me. Then they both looked at me.
“Go on, Andrew,” said Janette. “What were you going to say?”
This was all like the kind of dream you have where you walk into class late and realize you’re wearing Spiderman pajamas.
“Andrew?” she said.
I had to do it. Dan was right. It wasn’t the end of the world if she said no or yes. I had to do it.
“Janette, I’d like to know if I could give you a ride home tonight?”
Woody looked at me really mean—his face was tensed up so tight we could have used his forehead as a bicycle rack.
“Okay,” said Janette, with just enough enthusiasm. “I get off at 6:30.”
I mumbled that I’d be back, dropped two dollars on the counter, and left. I looked back as I walked down the snow-covered road. Woody McCrae was watching me and he didn’t look happy.
At half past six, Janette was standing on the cafe’s front step. It was cold, and she was breathing out small puffs of warm air as I walked up. I could feel my heart beating in my throat.
“Hi, Andrew. Where’s your car?” she asked.
“I need you to close your eyes,” I said. She shrugged and closed them.
From around the corner of the building I dragged my Rosewood Glider. It was a long, wooden sled, as old as me, with room enough for two. There were foot-high railings all around, and a heavy metal steering bar at the front. On the side I had bolted the broken end of a hockey stick so if I ever lost control I could pull back on it and drag the sled to a stop.
I told Janette to step up and I helped her in the Glider. Then I put one of my dad’s big parkas around her shoulders.
“I thought we could take the scenic way,” I said.
She opened her eyes and took it all in for a moment. “You’re going to pull me home?” she asked. She didn’t seem too happy.
“No, just to the corner. It’s downhill most of the way from there, and the road is covered in snow.”
She didn’t say anything; just sat there looking kind of stunned for a long time. My newfound confidence was slipping away with every silent second. I could already hear them at school. They’d probably be talking about this for months. “Hey, Andrew, where’s your sled? In the shop?”
But I couldn’t just stand there with Janette in the sled. I took a breath and began pulling her to the corner. Ahead of us, the sun was shooting long red ribbons across the darkening sky. We had about 30 minutes of light, more than enough to glide home. That’s if my plan actually worked, and we didn’t crash, or break a ski, or encounter any one of a number of other catastrophes.
Why wasn’t she saying anything?
At the top I swallowed hard, scanned the descent for oncoming cars, sat myself in the front of the sled, checked behind me, and then pushed us off. My life was over anyway.
The glider moved slowly at first, rumbling over a half-exposed patch of pavement. But then we hit powder and began an effortless glide through the new snow. Suddenly we were going fast—faster than I had planned. Snow began to sting my eyes. We passed the Wimmer place and took a stomach-jarring dip in the road. I heard a shout from behind me and turned around.
“You watch the road,” called out Janette.
She was laughing! I turned around just in time to see us heading toward a ditch. I tried to correct our track but the sled fishtailed one way, then another before finally landing in a snow pile.
Poooofff!
Janette’s face and hair were covered in snow. She opened her mouth, which was full of snow too. I figured all was lost.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pathetically.
“You should be!” she said, wiping off her face. “Why didn’t we ever do this before?” She pulled at my coat collar and dumped a handful of snow down my back.
“Now,” she said, getting to her feet and brushing the snow off, “I bet we can get another run in before dark. This time, keep your eyes on the road.”
She started pulling the sled up the hill. “If you keep to the middle and quit sightseeing, I bet we can get all the way to your house.”
Janette pushed us off this time, and the slide and the wind took our white breath in clouds from our mouths. We were both laughing! And that’s when I began to realize that it wasn’t so tough after all. Not the glide on the snow-covered road, but being with Janette—talking, laughing, being myself.
We slid down the hill, racing faster and faster into the coming night. And for a while, all my fears were suspended.

My father was fortunate to marry a good woman who encouraged him to come back to the church of his youth and begin again to progress along the path. Their faithful lives have blessed all of their children, the next generation of grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren.

A Hat So Simple When Edna Alligator buys a hat to wear while fishing with her husband, Paul, all her friends add things to it to “improve” it. A giggly kind of book in easy-to-read rhyme.Jerry Smath3–6 years

Set an example of service. The shining moment of the conference came in the form of service. Except for one very rainy morning, the youth spent several hours each day cleaning different areas of the island—picking up trash, cutting weeds and bushes, removing rocks, hauling away garbage. During the conference, they cleaned beaches along the dock area and tidied up the village cemetery, the church grounds and building, and the local soccer field, which had become little more than a garbage dump and an eyesore.
Mani Terooatea is a Laurel from Takaroa home on vacation from Japan, where she has been studying the technique of pearl grafting (placing tiny pieces of mussel shells inside oysters in order to cultivate pearls). Mani said, “It was super to clean up the field, to see everyone working side by side. It didn’t take long, and I’m glad we could leave the place cleaner than we found it.” Mani brought along a friend who is a member of another faith. The friend, Hina Dexter, developed a new appreciation for Latter-day Saints, as did several other non-LDS participants.

Ida and the Wool Smugglers Father told Ida that she was too little to help with the sheep run. Mother said that she was too little to hold the neighbors’ new baby. But when Ida’s ewe and her pet lambs were threatened by smugglers, she proves that she’s not too little to save them all by herself!Sue Ann Alderson6–8 years

We acknowledge that the sincere, dedicated efforts of teachers and ministers of other faiths accomplish much good in the world. For example, Sidney Rigdon served as a minister of another church before becoming acquainted with the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. After his conversion, the Lord said to him, “My servant Sidney, I have looked upon thee and thy works. I have heard thy prayers, and prepared thee for a greater work.” (D&C 35:3.)

Sidney Rigdon had obviously rendered a valuable service in his previous ministry but was able, after accepting the restored gospel and receiving divinely restored priesthood power, to go forth in a “greater work,” teaching the revelations of God and administering the saving ordinances of the gospel.

Even when I was young, I wanted to be useful, to help others, and to be close to Jesus’ Church. But I didn’t know how. As I grew older, my desire grew stronger and I began looking at ways I could serve God through my religion.
In time I went to a boarding school in Riobamba, Ecuador. I became acquainted with the mother superior at a convent. We became friends, and she eventually influenced me to become a nun. I took my first vows and became a novice.
During the next six years I prayed every day to Heavenly Father to help me know Him better. For some reason, I felt comfortable praying to Him directly instead of through intercessors, as I had been taught. I knew that by getting to know Him, I would get to know myself. I would also be able to see others with a more Christlike perspective and thus serve them as He would have me do. Though I prayed fervently, I felt an inexplicable void. The emptiness I felt became so great I decided to leave the convent.
One day while the bishop was visiting, I talked with him about my decision to leave. He asked me to ponder and pray about my decision. I did and felt even stronger that my decision was right. I knew if I waited until after my solemn vows, which would take place in a year, it would be even more difficult for me to leave. I would have to get the pope’s permission, not just the bishop’s.
The next time I met the bishop, I told him of my decision, and he asked me to request dismissal in writing. Eventually my letter reached him. He was surprised because he thought I would not follow through on my request. When he granted the dismissal of my vows, I bid farewell to the nuns, thankful for all the good I had learned and experienced, and I left in peace.

In a stake conference in Campinas, Brazil, I enjoyed a soul-restoring experience of listening to the gifted, able, and charming president of the stake Relief Society, Sister Vilma Figuereda. She told of the great excitement and personal revelation she received regarding the truthfulness of the Church when she first heard its message from the missionaries. She was literally twice born, with energy, conviction, and a desire to tell all of her acquaintances and others of the healing and sanctifying message of the gospel. She walked over so many cobblestones and on so many sidewalks that she would wear out a pair of shoes each month. Her husband, at that time not a member of the Church but concerned about the many demands upon the limited resources of the family, asked her, “Couldn’t the Church at least buy you a pair of shoes?” The soles of her shoes were worn thin, but the inner soul of her being was fully restored.

I recall when my wife and I invited our teenage sons and daughters to take a challenge, one which they accepted. They were to pray earnestly that the Lord would help them identify a person they were to help come into the Church. There would be no time limit. They were to pray and search and wait until the Spirit spoke to them, until they found that special person who would accept the invitation to either participate with them in a Church activity or to listen to the message of our missionaries.
We promised them that they would know for sure because it would be just as though the Lord were pointing his finger at that person. They were also to pray that they would know what to say to that person at the time.
One son returned in about two weeks with the story that he definitely had been impressed to approach a young man who sat by him at the university. He approached him about the Church and was rejected. Naturally he felt discouraged and questioned the validity of our project.
“Did you truly love him?” I asked. “Or were you just trying to compile a statistic? Did you have love in your heart and in your eyes when you approached him? Were you listening to the Spirit to help you as you approached him?”
“Let me try again,” our son asked. “Let me fast and pray about it. Then I`ll try again.”
After fasting and praying about it, he still felt impressed that this was the young man he should introduce to the Church. He approached him once more, this time with great love in his heart, in his eyes, and in his soul. The young man agreed to meet with our son and the missionaries to learn about the Church.
Not only was the young man baptized but his inactive wife was reactivated and their three children will now have the blessings of being reared in an LDS home.

One of the girls waits until the end to stand up. “After hearing the gospel message, I had to join the Church to be happy,” she says. “It was worth it to me. Now I know real happiness.” She was forced to leave her home because of her membership in the Church, but she has no regrets.

Some enterprising young people in the Salt Lake area cashed in on the after-Christmas blues by cleaning up show windows on which businessmen had painted Christmas scenes. They charged according to the size of the window.

I’ve seen many inspirational Young Women leaders who exemplify living their roles with nobility and joy. I remember the powerful example of my Laurel adviser, who was faithful in rearing her children in the Church even though her husband was less active. I know a young woman whose parents weren’t active in the Church. She was impressionable and teachable and learned well from the examples of her leaders. She learned how to fast and how to hold family home evening by participating with her teachers in these activities.

He was deeply concerned about the well-being of others and praised the good he saw around him. He trusted others and encouraged them to strive to be disciples of Christ. Addressing a “stir in the Church” involving a young woman who had emigrated from England and was living in the home of Heber and Vilate Kimball, Joseph wrote a letter to Vilate. With grace and understanding, the Prophet encouraged Vilate: “I do not desire that you should turn the young woman out of doors; far be it from me to advise any such course. I think it would be well for her to remain with you … because I think that your advice may be a blessing to her, and your counsel and advice such as will tend to her future welfare and happiness.”8 Joseph trusted Vilate; she had chosen faith and continued in her belief that Joseph Smith was a prophet.9 Joseph’s trust in Vilate paid dividends as Vilate’s influence and counsel helped the young woman weather the storm and commit to her faith.

A few years ago, the Liahona contained a letter describing my return to the Church and reporting that our branch was meeting in a large shed on my property. In time, our branch rented a house, and this year we rented a larger one. Recently, we acquired the ground for a meetinghouse.
I am the magazine representative for the branch, and my goal is to get the Liahona (Spanish) into every home. As we read it, we are strengthened, and we find the answers to many problems. The messages from the First Presidency are especially encouraging in our times of tribulation.
Virginia de Laurino,Gobernador Gálvez Branch, Rosario Argentina Stake

Another time when prayer was significant in my life was when I had just graduated from high school and was working on a ranch in Idaho. I worked with two other fellows who were involved in athletics with me but who were at that time not very active in the Church. They went off in the evenings and did things that I didn’t want to do.
That left me with a lot of time alone. For six to eight weeks, I was mostly by myself after dinner so I began to study the scriptures. There were no computer games and no television to distract me, and soon I began to love the scriptures. I could hardly wait to finish work and get back to my reading. Scripture study, coupled with prayer, really made my testimony grow. I recommend that everyone be alone with his scriptures for a while.

Our family was recently baptized, and we all agreed we love our new church. One night for family home evening, our mum suggested we do our family tree using our old passport photos. It was a fun night!
Joshua, Matilda, and Graeme K., ages 9, 11, and 7, Kingdom of Tonga

From then on, I started meeting with them and learning of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, of the Book of Mormon, of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Everything was so foreign to me, but I felt the Spirit every time. I started reading it for myself when (newly transferred in) Elder Baldwin invited me to read the Book of Enos. From there, I couldn’t stop reading. Even though I still didn’t believe it, I couldn’t stop. I knew something was different about the Book of Mormon. I thought about it constantly. It strengthened my faith in a loving God.

When I was a college freshman, I would go with my roommate to visit her 98-year-old great-great-uncle, whom we affectionately called Uncle Joe. He lived alone and was lonely, so we tried to visit him as often as possible. During our visits he would tell us stories about when he lived in Mexico and in several border towns in Arizona, including Nogales.
When my roommate temporarily moved back home, I felt prompted to continue visiting Uncle Joe. He became a close friend, and I visited him until he passed away a year and a half later. I was sad to lose my friend but grateful for the valuable time we had spent together.
As I read this entry, I realized that the Joseph Kleinman who had helped my great-grandmother was Uncle Joe! I felt the Spirit whisper that I had been inspired to continue visiting Uncle Joe as a small thank-you for the kindness he had shown to my great-grandmother and her family.

We are lifted by the witness of the modern prophet, Joseph Smith, when he reassures the people of the resurrection. Elder George A. Smith quotes the last public address of Joseph Smith in June 1844, only days before his cruel assassination:
“I am ready to be offered a sacrifice for this people; for what can our enemies do? Only kill the body, and their power is then at an end. Stand firm, my friends; never flinch. Do not seek to save your lives, for he that is afraid to die for the truth, will lose eternal life. Hold out to the end, and we shall be resurrected and become like Gods, and reign in celestial kingdoms, principalities, and eternal dominions.” (History of the Church, 6:500.)

Jerry and Karen Johnson served in Hong Kong, teaching English as a second language. One day after class, near the end of their mission, a little second-grade girl, to whom Sister Johnson had become very attached, came up to her and, putting out her arms as though she were an airplane flying, asked, “Meiguo?” (meaning “America?”). Sister Johnson looked at her and said, “Yes, we are returning to America.” She buried her head in Sister Johnson’s chest and sobbed. “I held her tight and sobbed right along with her,” Sister Johnson said. “Fifty other students gathered around, sobbing right along with us. Our mission has placed us in the center of a whirlwind of love that seems to envelop us.”