Gospel Story Finder

This story took place in Mexico.
Today was the first day of celebrations for Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. It was a special time to remember loved ones who had died. Lyan always liked hearing the stories about her family. It made her feel like they were right there with her, even if she’d never met them.
But this year was different. Lyan’s grandma wouldn’t be there to celebrate with them. She had died just a few months ago. This time, Abuela was one of the family members they would remember together.
Lyan reached out and gently touched the photo of Abuela on the ofrenda. She and her sisters, Megan and Leilani, had worked hard all week to prepare it. They decorated the table with care. They put up the photos of their family members. And they placed objects to remember their loved ones on the ofrenda too.
Megan put a bottle of soda on the table.
“Abuela loved this kind of soda,” Megan said. “It should be part of our family ofrenda.”
Lyan remembered visiting their grandmother and drinking soda with her. Abuela would ask them questions and listen to their stories. It was the perfect thing to help them remember her. When Lyan saw the soda, it made her want to be a good listener like Abuela was.
Mamá came into the room with a plate of pan de muerto. Lyan’s sisters ran over to her, begging to try a slice. It was a kind of sweet bread that people all over Mexico ate for Día de Muertos.
“We will have some later,” Mamá said. “For now this plate will stay on the ofrenda next to Abuela’s picture.” She put it on the table. “This looks so beautiful! Now we only need to wait for Papá to come home from work.” She and the girls sat down on the sofa to wait.
“I miss Abuela,” Lyan said. “I wish we could see her again right now.”
Mamá pulled Lyan into a big hug. “I know. I miss her too. It helps me to know that because of Jesus Christ, all of us will be resurrected. And since we were sealed in the temple, we will all be together as a family someday.”
Mamá’s words made Lyan feel happy inside. She thought about getting to see Abuela again and giving her a big hug.
The door opened, and Papá walked inside. Leilani cheered.
“Papá is home! It’s time for pan de muerto and hot chocolate!” Megan said.
“And to tell stories about Abuela!” Lyan said. She would always miss Abuela, but she was glad there were things she could do to remember her. She knew that because of Jesus Christ, she would see Abuela again someday.
Illustrations by Liz Brizzi

A big brown box is, oh, such fun
To play with in the backyard sun!
Step inside, and there you are—
Zooming to a far-off star!
Turn it down and crawl inside—
A perfect spot in which to hide
From robbers who might just be near.
Stop! Be still so they won’t hear.
Fill it up! Let it down.
Chug-a-chug—ride off to town!
Turn it up—pretend to float.
Come on, mates, let’s sail our boat!
Mother calls while we are here,
“How do those children disappear?”
A big brown box is, oh, such fun
To play with in the backyard sun!

Many years ago this conference heard of a young man who found the restored gospel while he was studying in the United States. As this man was about to return to his native land, President Gordon B. Hinckley asked him what would happen to him when he returned home as a Christian. “My family will be disappointed,” the young man answered. “They may cast me out and regard me as dead. As for my future and my career, all opportunity may be foreclosed against me.”

“Are you willing to pay so great a price for the gospel?” President Hinckley asked.

Tearfully the young man answered, “It’s true, isn’t it?” When that was affirmed, he replied, “Then what else matters?” That is the spirit of sacrifice among many of our new members.

But there are times strength and patience might seem out of our reach. One such time put me flat on my back on my bedroom floor. It had been a rough day of mean mental comments and tears, and I was frustrated at my spiral of self-judgment. Self-love felt light-years away. I was sick of it, and all I could do was pour out my heart to Heavenly Father, begging for anything He could give me.
As I stared at the string lights on my ceiling, scripture stories flashed through my mind: Naaman the leper commanded to wash in the River Jordan, not once, but seven times to be healed (see 2 Kings 5:10–14); the Savior using first clay, then water when he healed the man born blind (see John 9:6–7); Christ teaching His disciples not to forgive seven times, but “until seventy times seven” (Matthew 18:22).
I wanted to heal from self-loathing right then. But thinking about those stories, I realized that healing can take time, repeated effort, and the Savior’s help. I felt like Christ was inviting me to repeatedly turn to Him with whatever energy I had. He was inviting me to discover the joy of daily repentance.2
That night on my bedroom floor, I didn’t magically start loving myself all the time. But I did learn an important lesson: developing love for myself is a process, not a one-time event. Through that process, whenever I make a mistake or have hurtful feelings toward myself, I can lean on the Spirit and the Savior’s love for me. “As we humbly turn to Him, He will increase our capacity to change.”3 Because I have experienced this for myself, I have confidence that He doesn’t see my repeated efforts as failures—He sees them as repentance (see Mosiah 26:30).

When raindrops fell on Bob Bluejay,
He gurgled and squawked in a noisy way.
He flapped his wings in blissful glee
And swung upside down in the haw-haw tree.

I underwent an operation on September 24, 2018, and had many people by my side taking care of me. A few days after the operation and being discharged, while at home, I felt a lot of fever inside me. I visited the clinic again, and after several tests, they found that during the surgery to remove the colon tumor, they had left a small hole causing the fever. I developed sepsis because no hole was supposed to remain after the operation. I had to stay in the clinic for one more week.
On the third day of being hospitalized, I felt extremely sad. I prayed to Heavenly Father and asked many questions. After finishing my prayer and shedding many tears, there was a knock on the door of my room, and to my surprise, it was the two missionaries who were attending my ward at that time. Seeing me crying, they prayed with and encouraged me. I told them about the prayer I had made and how the Lord had sent these two messengers to me.
Thanks to my Heavenly Father, I overcame the sepsis and moved on to the next stage, which, although difficult, was a true miracle. I had to undergo chemotherapy, and when I received the first treatment, I suffered another health setback. A port was inserted to administer the chemotherapy, and the doctor who placed it put it in too high, causing me to have four embolisms and two pulmonary infarctions. My oncologist couldn’t explain how I had survived the embolisms and infarctions. I told her that I believed God was keeping me alive because I still had important work to do for Him.

Janet Leeds of the Burnley Ward, Chorley Stake said, “The project came together so quickly there was no time to think about whether to get involved or not or wonder if it was possible; everyone just pulled together and got on with it! So much love was shared, and hard work done, by so many volunteers that went into the project. It felt so important to make sure each child received their lunch packs every day—so much so that I went back to one house three times on the first day and finally pushed it through the cat flap so that they wouldn’t miss it! So proud of everyone who made it all possible.”

Making the right choice was not always easy. My father and mother had a difficult time providing for their large family, so those of us who were old enough did our best to help out. When I was eighteen years old, I needed to buy a pair of pants, but after sharing my salary with my family, all I had left was the exact amount I owed in tithing. I was tempted to spend that tithing money for those pants, but I paid my tithing, and during the next week I got an extra job that allowed me to buy the pants.

Maria, a 16-year-old from Brazil, was struggling one Christmas after losing a second beloved grandparent. A few years ago it had been her grandfather on her mother’s side, and now she had lost her other grandfather.
“I remember Christmas always being a magical and incredible experience,” Maria says. “I remember singing hymns with my family, waking up in the night to see my Christmas present, performing the play of the birth of Christ in elementary school, and many other things that marked my childhood.”
“Focusing on Jesus Christ … gives me a certainty that these feelings of sadness and longing won’t last forever.”
Maria always enjoyed time with family. But now, with her second grandfather’s passing away, some of the gladness was stolen from her at Christmastime. Her path through the grief, like David’s, involved focusing on Christ.
“Focusing on Jesus Christ, especially at Christmastime, gives me a certainty that these feelings of sadness and longing won’t last forever,” Maria says. “I know that God is with me always. Over time I have felt this hole inside me being filled with the Savior’s love.”
Maria still has one grandparent living—her grandmother on her mother’s side. “I’m enjoying all the time I have with my grandmother,” she says. “Even if my other grandparents and relatives are no longer with me, I know I will see them again one day. We have an eternity together ahead of us.”

Just recently a friend of mine joined the Church. She attended Mutual with me and was very impressed with the kind of young people she found there. After reading the Book of Mormon and having the missionary discussions, she felt she had found heaven on earth. Her parents gave their permission to her baptism after they saw what a wonderful change the Church was making in her life. Now that my friend has started to attend meetings regularly, she is noticing how some members of my ward talk and criticize behind people’s backs. They carry grudges sometimes and seem to let the gospel affect their private lives very little. The first few weeks of a new member’s activity in the Church are very important. How can I counteract or explain what she is seeing without becoming critical of others myself and doing more harm than good?

I remember the feeling of sinking into the chair in my bishop’s office. I felt hopeless and lost. What I had dedicated years of preparation to—what I had spent so long hoping for—was gone.
After many discussions with my bishop, stake president, and mental health professionals, we decided that because of my ongoing mental health issues, I would not be able to serve a teaching mission. The mental pictures I had painted of myself wearing a name tag, knocking on doors, riding bikes, and attending zone conferences couldn’t become reality.
With a broken heart, I remember asking my bishop, “Does the Lord want me? Do I still have a place in His work?”
He assured me that I did. And since that conversation, I’ve learned there are so many ways I can help build the Lord’s kingdom on the earth.
Elder John C. Pingree Jr. of the Seventy once asked: “Have you ever wondered if Heavenly Father has a work for you? Are there important things He has prepared you—and specifically you—to accomplish?”1
These questions followed me for the next several years. I yearned for places to serve. I wanted to contribute my whole heart to the Lord. But I felt lost in knowing how or where I could do that.
I served in callings and did what was asked of me, but I still felt like I wasn’t doing enough. After a few years of trying to find my place, I was at stake conference, in a new state and a new stake, feeling piercing isolation. But I listened as a sister began to speak about the temple. She told stories of her service as a temple worker that brought her and others closer to the Savior. Looking at her, I could tell she was glowing with the Spirit. She had found her place.
As she finished her address, she said the temple was currently looking for workers on Fridays. Immediately, I felt the Spirit pierce my soul. “That is what you can do. That is where you can serve.” The Spirit reinvigorated my desire to find a place in the Lord’s work.
The following Sunday, I asked my bishop about becoming a temple worker. And within a month, I was starting my first shift at the temple. When the temple president set me apart, I felt so much gratitude that I had found my place to serve the Lord. I had been set apart to work in His House.
The Lord wanted me to serve Him there.
I felt what the Apostle Paul described: “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Ephesians 2:19). I felt like I was no longer a stranger in the Lord’s work.

A few months before I left for a mission in 1960, Brother Eyre passed away from cancer at age 39. He left a wife and their five children, all younger than age 16. His oldest sons, Richard and Chris Eyre, have assured me that in the absence of their father, bishoprics supported and watched out for them and their younger brothers and sister with Christlike love, for which I am grateful.

Think of the body’s system of self-defense. To protect it from harm, the body perceives pain. In response to infection, it generates antibodies. They not only help to combat the immediate problem, but they persist to strengthen resistance to infection in the future. One day my attention was directed to some three-year-old children who had lapped up water from a street gutter. The number of germs they ingested must have been incalculable, but not one of those youngsters became ill. As soon as that dirty drink reached each little stomach, its hydrochloric acid went to work to treat the water and protect the life of the child.

For a long time I have been debating the possibility of college sports after, of course, my mission. However, I failed to realize that first of all, the purpose of going to college is to get a good education. After reading what President Hinckley had to say (“Seek Learning,” Sept. 2007), I have decided to focus on education, and then on physical activities.
Isaac W., Colorado

The Lord taught the Nephites, “Therefore, hold up your light that it may shine unto the world. Behold I am the light which ye shall hold up” (3 Ne. 18:24). An example of the light of the Lord touching someone who needed it desperately came when I called upon a very close friend shortly after the death of his eternal companion. I asked him, “What can I now do to help?” He answered, “Help my son to understand.” You see, this son loved his mother very much. When he saw her suffer month after month, he began to feel that the prayers and the priesthood blessings went unanswered. This caused his faith in our Heavenly Father to waver, and he lost the light of the Lord in his life.
The words rang in my ears: “Help my son to understand.” I asked myself, “How? What can I do?” Finally, I invited him to come to Church headquarters to talk with me. When he arrived and we went to the lunchroom, a most unusual circumstance unfolded while we were eating. During our visit, many General Authorities came by our table and greeted us. He shook hands with eight of the Twelve Apostles. Never before or since have I seen that many members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in the lunchroom at one time.
As we were leaving the Church offices, another unusual thing happened. We caught a glimpse of President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), and my young friend asked, “Does President Kimball ever talk to someone like me?” Circumstances that would rarely happen again placed us with President Kimball for a few minutes. The short time with him was unforgettably impressive. His instructions were eternal, and his love for this young man was unquestionable. My friend’s heart and mine were touched deeply during those few minutes.
President Kimball’s final statement to this young man, after he gave him a loving embrace, impressed my friend very much. He said, “My boy, when you come home from your mission, you will understand more fully the things we have been talking about.” That day a prophet of God reached out as I suppose only a prophet can. Through him, the Savior touched the life of my friend and turned him toward the light of the Lord.
As we returned to the parking area, I put my arm around him and said, “I know that your mother knows you are here today. Because of her love and devotion to the Lord and her great love for you, I am sure our Heavenly Father has allowed her influence to be felt here today.” Tears flowed, attitudes changed, directions became clear, and commitments were made.
What a thrill it was to report a few months later to President Kimball that this fine young man was serving faithfully and diligently as a full-time missionary!

We had a missionary in our mission who was particularly devoted and obedient. I said to him one time, “Elder, what is the source of your motivation?”
“Brother Monson,” he replied, “I slept in one morning. As I did so, my mind turned to thoughts of my mother and my father, who are operating a little cleaning establishment, working around the clock to earn sufficient money to support me on a mission. As I thought of my parents performing that strenuous work in my behalf, all signs of laziness left me; and I determined that I had an opportunity to serve the Lord in my behalf and in behalf of my own mother and my own father.”

Let me provide an example. When I first visited Czechoslovakia, accompanied by Hans B. Ringger, long before the freedom bell sounded, I was met by Jiri Snederfler, our leader through this dark period, and Sister Olga Snederfler, his wife. I went to their home in Prague where the branch met. Displayed on the walls of the room in which we assembled were picture after picture of the Salt Lake Temple. I said to Sister Snederfler, “Your husband must truly love the temple.”
She responded, “I, too; I, too.”
We sat down for some soup Sister Snederfler had prepared, after which she brought out a treasure trove: an album containing individual pictures of the missionaries who were serving there in 1950 when the government edict came for the mission to be closed. As she slowly leafed through the pictures of different missionaries, she would say, “Wonderful boy, wonderful boy.”
Brother Snederfler has been a courageous Church leader in Czechoslovakia and has been willing to put everything on the line for the gospel. When the opportunity came that we would seek recognition for the Church in that country, the government leaders, then Communist, said: “Don’t send an American. Don’t send a German. Don’t send a Swiss. Send a citizen of Czechoslovakia.”
There were ominous implications in that particular statement because to have admitted that you were a church leader during this period of the prohibition of religion was tantamount to possible imprisonment. And yet, this call came to Brother Snederfler to be the designated person to go before the government and to forthrightly state that he was the leader of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for all of Czechoslovakia and that he was seeking recognition for his church. He later told me that he had been somewhat frightened and had asked for the prayers of his brothers and sisters in the Prague Branch. He went to his sweet wife, Olga, and said to her: “I love you. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll be back, but I love the gospel, and I must follow my Savior.”
With that spirit of faith and devotion, Brother Snederfler went before the government officials and acknowledged that he was the leader of the Church and that he was there to seek a restoration of the recognition the Church had enjoyed long years before. In the meantime Elder Russell M. Nelson had been working tirelessly to bring about the desired decision. Later, Brother Snederfler heard the good news: “Your church is again recognized in Czechoslovakia.” How eager Brother Snederfler was to tell his dear wife and the other stalwart members of the Church the wonderful news that once again missionaries could come to Czechoslovakia and the Church could provide a haven for freedom of worship in that nation. It was a happy day for Czechoslovakia.
Where are Jiri and Olga Snederfler today? Just last month they responded to their calls to serve as temple president and matron of the Freiberg Germany Temple, where faithful members of the Church in Germany, Czechoslovakia, and surrounding nations attend. These two saintly souls find themselves each day in the Lord’s house they so dearly love.
And what of Richard Winder, one of the former missionaries of whom Olga Snederfler exclaimed, “Wonderful boy, wonderful boy”? He is now the president of the Czechoslovakia Prague Mission, responding to the call to him and his wife, Barbara, to reopen the work in that country.

“This has been a great day,” said new Eagle Scout Sam Southam of the Arapahoe Colorado Stake. “It was a real honor to sit at dinner with an astronaut, to spend the day with great Church and Scout leaders, and to be with friends who set a goal to become Eagles and who did it.”

Sam was referring to the day he and his fellow Eagle Scouts spent at the North American Aerospace Defense Command, where most of the man-made objects in space are tracked. They also toured the U.S. Olympic training facility, all as part of a reward their stake president promised them last June when he challenged all the Life Scouts in his stake to become Eagles by the end of the year.

Thirty-five Scouts rose to the challenge and practically flew to the Cheyenne Mountains, where they spent the day learning how others fly—pretty appropriate for a flock of Eagles.

Fire!: The Library Is Burning Books, many whose value was beyond price, were either burned to ashes or were being destroyed by the very water that put the fire out. This is the story of the fire and of people, from kindergartners to food scientists, who did what they could for the library.Barry D. Cytron9 years and up

JOHN TAYLOR (Born 1808, Milnthorpe, England: died 1887, Kaysville, Utah; third president of the Church.) His six-foot bearing and his “heavenly countenance” impressed even strangers. Was Methodist preacher in Toronto, Canada, when baptized in his twenties in 1836 by Elder Parley P. Pratt. Introduced gospel to Ireland and Isle of Man. Edited Mormon journals in Europe and America. Authored many hymns and poems. Seriously wounded when Prophet Joseph Smith was martyred; carried the bullets to his grave forty three years later. Favorite motto: “The kingdom of God or nothing.”