Gospel Story Finder

On Thursday I had a bowl of popcorn and a glass of juice for my evening snack. When I asked for another helping, Mom said, “I think you’ve had enough.” Sometimes Mom says no.

As I strive to hearken to the words of the prophets, I always receive physical and spiritual blessings from God. I then feel more confident in making choices, and my friends recognize that I paid the price of obedience to obtain this greater freedom. Testify boldly of the blessings you enjoy as an obedient member of the Church. You will convince your friends by your word and example that living your standards does not restrict your agency, but making poor choices often does. The inspired standards point us in a direction to make good choices, allowing many doors of opportunity to remain wide open. My friends often desire that same freedom.
Elder Madsen, 21, Indonesia Jakarta Mission

Norberto and his family have been tested. Once, he was sick from malaria and trembled all over. They had no medicine to give him. His father gave him a blessing, and then he was finally able to sleep through the night. Now whenever he is sick or has an important test at school, he asks for a father’s blessing.

I read, “Now these are the words, and ye may liken them unto you and unto all men” (2 Nephi 11:8; emphasis added; see also 1 Nephi 19:23–24; 2 Nephi 6:5; 11:2). I took that to mean that the scriptures are likened to me personally, and that is true of everyone else.
When a verse I had passed over several times took on personal meaning, I thought whoever wrote that verse had a deep and mature understanding of my life and how I felt.
For example, I read that the prophet Lehi partook of the fruit of the tree of life and said, “Wherefore, I began to be desirous that my family should partake of it also; for I knew that it was desirable above all other fruit” (1 Nephi 8:12). I had read that more than once. It did not mean much to me.
The prophet Nephi also said that he had written “the things of my soul … for the learning and the profit of my children” (2 Nephi 4:15). I had read that before, and it did not mean all that much to me either. But later when we had children, I understood that both Lehi and Nephi felt just as deeply about their children as we feel about our children and grandchildren.

Mr. Chang and the Yellow Robe Only Mandarins were allowed to wear yellow robes. Mr. Chang was just an ordinary citizen. But he wanted to be special, so he bought a yellow robe secretly and wore it secretly. He was found out, of course, and was in deep trouble. … An easy-to-read book.Dorothee Böhlke6–10 years

Several years ago I attended a BYU football game with some of our young children. We lost the game. I really hate it when that happens. We listened to the coaches’ show on the ride back to our home in Bountiful. When it was over, my children had no alternative but to listen to my own postgame show. Just as I had completed my final analysis of what went wrong in the game, my seven-year-old daughter asked, “Dad, when you see the temple, do you get a good feeling inside?” I wondered, Where in the world did that come from? As I was trying to figure out what that comment had to do with the football game, I glanced over at her and could see she was looking out the window at the Salt Lake Temple. For some reason the game no longer mattered.

“On the other hand, think of some of our elders coming from the country or the Indian reservation to a larger city for the first time. These new experiences are fun and challenging. Do you remember Elder Descheenie?”
“Sure, I remember him. He was a Navajo elder, dark eyes, black curly hair, and a wide smile that made you wonder what he had been up to. He was a good elder.”
“That’s him all right, and he was a good elder. Let me share this story from a letter I received from him: ‘Did I ever tell you about my first and second day at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah? Well, I was the only Navajo-speaking missionary that went to the center at that time. On my first day there I did all right in finding my apartment and the missionary classes, but my second day I got up late and discovered that everybody had gone to their classes already, so I took a shower and decided to go to class, too, but couldn’t find my class. I walked in every hall and every building but still couldn’t find my classroom, so I just gave up and decided to go back to my apartment and stay there until my companion came back.
“‘So I was headed to my apartment, but I couldn’t even find my own apartment either, so I decided to try the building that was next to me there. I still couldn’t find my own room. Then I saw many girls coming into the building that I was in, and I thought to myself, I must be in the girls building. I ran out of there as fast as I could. I was so lost I didn’t know what to do so I walked over to the bookstore and there I found my companion. Was I glad to see him again!
“‘I told him what had happened to me, and he almost died laughing. Anyway those were the good old days. We had some baptisms last Saturday, and we’ve got some more coming up too. I was going to write you a long letter, but I’m running out of news so I’m going to end here and do some more work. Have a nice day, and thanks for everything, and we’ll see you soon. … Elder D.’

I remember when I used to dread fast Sundays. Going without food was awful. My stomach made big growling sounds all through sacrament meeting and Primary. It was embarrassing. All I could ever think about was food. And in sacrament meeting, the men and women always seemed to be crying. Mom said that it was because they felt close to Heavenly Father. I thought that it was probably because they were hungry.
That’s how I felt until something happened when I was nine years old. My younger sister, Millie, was climbing the big old tree in our backyard. No one was paying much attention to her because we were always climbing that tree. I was busy building a castle in the sandbox when I heard tree branches breaking. I looked up just as Millie hit the ground headfirst. When I ran over to see if she was all right, she didn’t move. “Millie!” I screamed. But she didn’t answer. I began screaming for Mom as loudly as I could.
Mom came running out of the house. White-faced, she bent over Millie to listen for a heartbeat and breathing. “Stay here,” she said to me. “I’m going to call the paramedics.” I didn’t know if Millie was dead or alive. I was afraid to even touch her.
Soon an ambulance and the paramedics came. After checking Millie with their instruments and bracing her head, they very carefully lifted her onto a stretcher and carried her to the ambulance. Mom got in too. Sister Lindsay, our next-door neighbor, came over to stay with my brothers, Ben and Jeff, and me. She told us that everything would be all right, but I wasn’t sure. She hadn’t seen Millie lying there.
Dad came home about eight o’clock that night so that Sister Lindsay could go home. Looking very sad, he said, “Millie broke her neck. Mom is going to stay at the hospital with her. She’s unconscious, and we can’t make her wake up. Even if she does wake up, there’s a chance that she might be paralyzed for the rest of her life.”
I wasn’t sure what paralyzed meant, so I asked, “Does that mean that she’ll never be able to walk again?”
Dad looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Yes, it does, Beth. She may not even be able to move her arms and hands.”
I was horrified. Jeff began to cry, and Ben pleaded, “Can’t they do something to make her get well?”
As Dad tried to comfort us, he said, “They’re doing everything that they know how to do. But we can do something to help Millie too.”
“If you mean prayer,” I said, “we’ve been doing that. I’ve never prayed so hard in my life.”
“I’m glad,” Dad said. “But prayer is only part of it. I called Grandma and Grandpa Wilson and Grandma and Grandpa Abbot, and they have called your aunts and uncles and cousins. Tomorrow they are all going to join with us in a special family fast for Millie.”
The next day we all fasted, and that evening Mom came home from the hospital to get some sleep. Before Dad went to take her place next to Millie’s bed, we all knelt and had a special family prayer for Millie. He told Heavenly Father that we wanted Millie to get well, but we would accept whatever He thought was best. We all felt better after the prayer.
Sometime in the middle of the night the telephone rang, and I was scared. Why would the telephone ring now, unlesssomething is wrong? I strained to hear what Mom was saying. Although I couldn’t understand all the words, she didn’t sound sad at all. I got up and went down to the kitchen.
“Oh, Beth!” Mom said as she hung up the receiver, “Millie is awake! She opened her eyes and said, ‘Daddy.’”
Ben was standing in the hall. “Can she move?” he asked.
Mom’s eyes clouded a bit. “No,” she said. “Not yet. But that doesn’t mean that she won’t. She may just need more time.”
Two days went by. The Relief Society sisters took turns staying with us kids and bringing in meals so that Mom could stay at the hospital with Millie, and Dad could go to work.
On the afternoon of the second day, the telephone rang. Sister Stevens handed it to me. I had barely said hello when Mom cried, “Oh, Beth, she moved her fingers! Millie moved her fingers!”
“Does that mean she isn’t paralyzed?” I asked excitedly.
“At least not from her waist up,” Mom replied. “I was just so happy that I wanted you to know right away. Tell the others, won’t you, Beth?”
Grandma Wilson arrived that night to stay with us. And Mom and Dad were both home for supper. Now that Millie was awake, they dared leave her for a little while. Mom said that the doctors were pretty sure that Millie would soon be able to move her toes and legs. “They said that children’s bodies mend much more quickly and better than adults’ do.”
“Mom,” I asked, “do you think that that’s why Millie is getting better?”
Smiling, she asked, “What do you think, Beth?”
My cheeks felt like they were glowing when I answered, “I think that Heavenly Father blessed her because of our fasting and prayers too.”
Dad grinned at me and said, “I’m sure of it.”
Millie had to stay in the hospital for a long time, and even after she came home, it was a long time before she could run and play like she used to. But she did get completely better.
I’m eleven years old now—almost twelve. I don’t mind fast Sundays anymore. I even understand why some people cry when they bear their testimonies—I did when I stood up to tell everyone that I knew that fasting and prayer really work.

When I became a member of a Quorum of the Seventy, I assumed that I might be accepted by my brethren in the course of time if I were able to prove myself worthy of their association. I hoped someday to measure up and be approved. I was surprised to find myself immediately welcomed and from the outset treated as a brother, as an equal by men much more talented and accomplished than I. I have been supported and encouraged, loved and tutored in my quorum from my very first day of membership in it. Consequently, I feel a deep desire to contribute to the work of the quorum and to assist my brethren as much as I can.

Thank you for the beautiful cover on the December New Era. The day it came I was listening to Christmas music, and when I saw the picture, I started crying. The look in that sweet baby’s eyes as he looks at his mother is precious. Thanks for bringing the true meaning of Christmas into our home so beautifully.
Vera Jean KinkadeOrem, Utah

Tragedy continued to follow Joseph F. in his childhood. Before his sixth birthday his father Hyrum and the Prophet Joseph were martyred in Carthage Jail. After his father’s death, Joseph F. helped his mother prepare for the trek west. Not yet ten years old, the boy drove two yoke of oxen from Winter Quarters to the Salt Lake Valley in the summer of 1848, a distance of over 1,000 miles. The journey was made even more difficult for the family since the captain of the train disapproved of Mary traveling without a husband, fearing that she would be a burden. But Mary was determined to ask for no special favors and promised that she would make the trip without his help and be the first to arrive in the valley. With fervent prayer and with the help of her young son, she kept that promise.

When I was a boy, my father brought me from Long Island, New York, to walk on the Salt Lake Temple grounds, to touch the temple, and to discuss the importance of the temple in my life. It was on that occasion that I made up my mind that someday I would return to receive the ordinances of the temple.

My friend Josh and I were preparing for our missions. We had a mutual friend named Sara, whom we went to school with. Sara attended another Christian church with her family. We had talked about religion here and there with Sara, but never in much depth.
One day Josh asked me if I would be interested in going with him to talk about the Church with Sara. I felt nervous at first but said yes. He talked to Sara and set up a time to meet to discuss our religious beliefs. I felt nervous at first and decided to study Preach My Gospel to prepare a little more. When we got together, we went through the principles of the first lesson in Preach My Gospel and expounded on what we believed. We asked questions about her religion and beliefs. We gave her a Book of Mormon. She graciously accepted it but told us that she wasn’t looking to change anything. She had her religion and held to beliefs that didn’t align with ours.
Even though she wasn’t interested in accepting more of the gospel, I still felt the Spirit that night as we bore testimony of the Savior and the Restoration of His Church. I also had my eyes opened to what others believe. I felt like this experience helped prepare me for my mission.
Brian D., Utah, USA

As you remember, the Willie and Martin companies ran into early snows in Wyoming, and many of the Saints perished in the cold. While on a trek a few years ago retracing their footsteps, my family and I stood looking down at the Sweetwater area where the Willie company had been stranded, cold and starving. We read from their journals of their severe trials and the joy of their rescue. John Chislett wrote:

“Just as the sun was sinking beautifully behind the distant hills, … several covered wagons … were seen coming towards us. The news ran through the camp like wildfire. … Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their furrowed and sun-burnt cheeks. …

“… That evening, for the first time in quite a period, the songs of Zion were to be heard in the camp. … With the cravings of hunger satisfied, and with hearts filled with gratitude to God and our good brethren, we all united in prayer, and then retired to rest.”9

My name is Magnolia. I go to a ward where we speak Spanish. One day Mia came to my Primary class. She speaks only English. I wanted to help Mia feel welcome, so I decided to help her. I would be her interpreter!
An interpreter translates words that someone is speaking into a different language.
Keeping Up
At first it was hard to keep up when I was interpreting for Mia. Then the teachers slowed down to give me time. We all felt good that we could help Mia.
Lots in Common
We both just got baptized and confirmed. We both like music, especially hymns and Primary songs. We both like family home evening. And both of us like to read stories in the Liahona.
Whispered Help
My name is Mia. My parents speak Spanish, so we went to the Spanish-speaking ward. I couldn’t understand what people were saying. Magnolia saw that I was frustrated. She moved over next to me and whispered English in my ear.
Good Friends
After Primary, I asked Magnolia if she would be my friend. She said yes. From then on, Magnolia was my friend and my interpreter. She helped me make other friends too.

During the first three years after my mission, I took and passed three entrance examinations, but I wasn’t readmitted to medical school. During those same three years, I couldn’t find a job. I was tempted to believe that some of my friends and family members might have been right and that it was a mistake to have forfeited my admission to medical school.
On my mission I learned to cast my burden on the Lord, so I let Him direct my life according to His will. As soon as I did, things started working out for me—but not as I had planned.
One fast Sunday I decided to fast and intently pray for the Lord’s help. That evening a knock came at the door. When I opened the door, I was astonished to see an acquaintance I had met during security training I had attended six months before. He told me that an opportunity for a security operative had opened in a company his elder brother worked for and that the company urgently needed to fill the position. I was the only person who came to his mind.
The next day the company hired me. That singular experience confirmed to me that Heavenly Father had not abandoned me and that I needed to trust in Him. The job proved to be a springboard to other jobs.

I read with interest your June article “There’s a Lot of Dough in This Business.” I initiated a similar venture in our former location in California. In fact, my “bread route” even became a valuable missionary tool. At Christmastime I gave my nonmember customers copies of the Book of Mormon. My business came to an abrupt end, however, when I was notified by state officials that it was illegal. I have since checked with the states of California and Utah, and here are the facts for those two states:
1. According to federal, state, county, and city statutes, it is a violation of both business and health codes to sell products that have been baked in a private residence.
2. Church or community groups who sponsor occasional bazaars or bake sales are exempt.
3. An individual may engage in a food business from his home if—
His kitchen facility is separate from his personal kitchen and is inspected and approved by the State Health Department.
He has obtained a business license (the legal requirements can be obtained from the State Board of Equalization).
Perhaps this home-baking arrangement is not illegal in Michigan, but most states prohibit it. Although my bread selling was certainly successful, it was nonetheless in violation of the law. I would encourage anyone interested in such projects to check with local authorities first to save embarrassment and possible legal penalties.
Nancy T. WudelOrem, Utah

Oxford Ward
The Primary children of the Oxford Ward, Granger Utah South Stake, were encouraged to collect pennies and other coins to be donated to the Primary Children’s Medical Center. They were reminded to read the words “In God We Trust” printed on each coin. The children collected 648 coins and 2 dollar bills.

One memory that the Spirit often brings to my mind is of an evening sacrament meeting held many years ago in a metal shed in Innsbruck, Austria. The shed was under a railroad track. There were only about a dozen people present, sitting on wooden chairs. Most of them were women, some younger and some older. I saw tears of gratitude as the sacrament was passed among the small congregation. I felt the love of the Savior for those Saints, and so did they. But the miracle I remember most clearly was the light that seemed to fill that metal shed, bringing with it a feeling of peace. It was nighttime and there were no windows, and yet the room was lit as if by noonday sunshine.
The light of the Holy Spirit was bright and abundant that evening. And the windows that let in the light were the humble hearts of those Saints, who had come before the Lord seeking forgiveness of their sins and committing to always remember Him. It was not hard to remember Him then, and my memory of that sacred experience has made it easier for me to remember Him and His Atonement in the years that have followed. That day the promise in the sacrament prayer that the Spirit will be with us was fulfilled and so brought feelings of light and peace.

Early in the morning on October 19, 1847, apostles Wilford Woodruff and Amasa Lyman spotted seven men emerging from a distant scattering of trees. Normally, strangers on the trail posed no threat. But the sudden appearance of these men set Wilford on edge.
For the last two days, he and Amasa had been hunting buffalo with several other men to feed Brigham Young’s struggling return company. Winter Quarters, their destination, was still more than a week’s journey away. Without the buffalo meat piled into the hunters’ three wagons, the company would be hard-pressed to finish their journey. Many of them were already sick.9
The apostles watched the strangers carefully, wondering at first if they were Indians. But as the figures drew nearer, the apostles could see that they were white men—possibly soldiers—on horseback. And they were charging full speed at the hunting party.
Wilford and the hunters drew their weapons in defense. But when the strangers rode up, Wilford was surprised and delighted to see the face of Hosea Stout, the police chief in Winter Quarters. The Saints in Winter Quarters had learned about the return company’s desperate straits, and Hosea and his men had been dispatched to supply provisions for the travelers and their animals.10
The assistance bolstered the return company, and they pressed forward. On October 31, when they were about a mile from the settlement, Brigham signaled his company to stop and assemble. The hard day of travel was almost over, and the men were anxious to see their families, but he wanted to say a few words before they disbanded.
“Thanks for your kindness and willingness to obey orders,” he said. In a little over six months, they had traveled more than two thousand miles with no major accidents and no deaths. “We have accomplished more than we expected,” Brigham declared. “The blessings of the Lord have been with us.”11
He dismissed the men, and they returned to their wagons. The company then drove the remaining mile to Winter Quarters. As the wagons rolled into the settlement shortly before sunset, Saints emerged from their cabins and hovels to welcome the men back. Crowds formed along the streets to shake hands with them and rejoice in all they had accomplished under the guiding hand of the Lord.12
Wilford was overjoyed to see his wife and children again. Three days earlier, Phebe had given birth to a healthy baby girl. Now the Woodruffs had four living children: Willy, Phebe Amelia, Susan, and newborn Shuah. Wilford also had one son, James, with his plural wife, Mary Ann Jackson, whom he had married shortly after returning from England. Mary Ann and James had gone to the Salt Lake Valley earlier that year with Wilford’s father.
“All was cheerful and happy,” Wilford wrote of his homecoming, “and we felt it a blessing to again meet.”13