Gospel Story Finder

It all started a few years ago when the young men and women of the ward began to hear of the not-so-happy experiences some children around the country were having as they went out on Halloween night to trick-or-treat. Remembering how much they as youngsters had enjoyed the traditional activities of this night, they felt it somehow wasn’t fair that their younger brothers and sisters should have to miss out. And so a new tradition was born.

“The Spirit comforts me. Once, I prayed for help on a specific issue. During my prayer, I felt comforted. I knew that as long as I kept following His counsel, God would help and comfort me. This led me to read the scriptures and do all I can to feel the Spirit often.”
Sophie G., 15, Minnesota, USA

When English-speaking missionaries enter the Brazil MTC, they have no choice but to speak Portuguese—their roommates, teachers, and support staff are Brazilian. “In Provo we’d practice our Portuguese, but we could always fall back on English. Now, we’re with people who don’t speak any English at all,” says Elder Jacob Calvert. “Every day we realize how much farther we’ve got to go, so people are a lot more committed to learning the language.”

It all started—where else?—at church. It was fun for the family to get together and sing, and they began doing it at stake and ward functions in Oregon. Then one day a man asked them how much they’d charge to perform elsewhere. They said $25, and their professional careers were born.
Some families do jigsaw puzzles together; some ride bikes. The Potters performed—at fairs, shopping malls, civic events, that type of thing. It was fun, gave them some confidence, and kept them close. But suddenly, through a frightening turn of events, their performing became a life-or-death matter.

Throw-Away Pets Evie found Wheeler, Jinx, and Mr. C. in cages in a building that had a door with a handle only on the outside. When she brought Megan to see the animals, the door shut behind them and they were as trapped as the thrown-away pets! The Animal Control officer rescued the girls—but could they rescue Wheeler, Jinx, and Mr. C.?Betsy Duffey7–9 years

Another experience was related to me recently by one of our priesthood holders. This is what he said:
“I, with my wife and teenage son and daughter, had a very serious car accident. My wife, daughter, and son escaped without any serious injury. The car was totaled. As I was pulled out of the wreck, I was in a state of shock, paralyzed, and semiconscious. The wreckers could not figure out how we came out alive.
“As people came to the scene of the accident, one man ordered them not to move me for fear of causing paralysis. He was the first man on the scene, and as he examined me he found that I was wearing temple garments. He was a Mormon. After seeing me safely in the ambulance and on the way to the next town, he alerted the bishopric; and as I arrived at the hospital the brethren were there to administer to me. The attending physician at the hospital was a stake president.
“For the next week I was on the critical list, and a member of the bishopric insisted that my wife and family stay at his home, taking meals and shelter there. After three or four days my wife and family returned home to Phoenix, and the members of the ward rallied around my family to help wherever they could. One good brother offered the use of his private plane or motor home to bring me back home. We used the motor home, which made it possible for them to slide the stretcher into it.
“When I arrived home there were many friends there to greet me, and my dear friend and member of my priesthood quorum who is a fine physician took care of me. We cannot express our gratitude to those who offered assistance in so many ways, but most definitely we witnessed there the priesthood in action and always will be grateful to be members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints where such brotherhood is fostered.”

When Jani Elizabeth Piercey first entered St. Margaret’s, an Episcopal girls’ school in Tappahanock, Virginia, she was looked at with a little curiosity and a little suspicion. After all, she was the only LDS girl there.

But when she graduated, it was with honors and respect. She was awarded the outstanding student award in eight different disciplines, was valedictorian of her class, and won the Spirit of St. Margaret’s Prize, awarded to the student who best exemplifies the “high ideals of young womanhood.” And that’s only to name a few.

Jani also took advantage of the many missionary opportunities in the area, giving presentations on her beliefs in religious education classes, and, as a ward missionary, she helped the sister missionaries often. She also served as a Primary teacher, Laurel class president, and earned her Young Womanhood Recognition. In addition, Jani received Harvard University’s “Most Outstanding Rising Senior” award.

Now that her high school career is over, Jani is taking on another challenge—the honors program at BYU.

President Lee’s successor in the Presidency of the Church, President Spencer W. Kimball, said: “We wish to remind all the Saints of the blessings that come from observing the regular fast and contributing as generous a fast offering as we can, and as we are in a position to give. Wherever we can, we should give many times the value of the meals from which we abstained.” President Kimball added: “Collecting fast offerings is an important [duty]. I thought it was a great honor to be a deacon. My father was always considerate … and … permitted me to take the buggy and horse to gather fast offerings. My responsibility included that part of the town in which I lived, but it was quite a long walk to the homes, and a sack of flour or a bottle of fruit or vegetables or bread became quite heavy as it accumulated. So the buggy was very comfortable and functional. We have changed to cash in later days, but it was commodities in my day. It was a very great honor to do this service for my Heavenly Father: and though times have changed, when money is given generally instead of commodities, it is still a great honor to perform this service.”

The LeGault family makes it a practice to try to live close to the Spirit. Brother LeGault helps set the pace. Shortly after he prayed for help in finding someone to share the gospel with, he was prompted to turn off the main highway to stop at a gas station, even though he didn’t need gas. A young man riding a motorcycle had stopped there because he was tired of traveling, and Brother LeGault offered to put the motorcycle in his van and give the young man a lift to Montreal.

The young man was impressed by the kindness he received and wanted to know more about the LeGault family and what made them so loving. He took the missionary lessons. The LeGault family prayed that the young man would gain a testimony. A few weeks later, he was baptized into the Church.

“When something like that happens, we make it a family activity,” says Chantal. “We all prayed for the young man to listen to the truth. We work together to share the gospel.”

“We try to say to our Heavenly Father, ‘I’ll do what you want. Make me what you want,’” says Nathalie. “When we let him do that, he does wonderful things.”

The next morning, April 6, 1893, dawned bright but chilly. Over two thousand Saints with recommends for the first dedicatory session began lining up outside the temple gates hours before the meeting was scheduled to begin. … The weather grew colder and a stiff breeze began to blow. Soon, frigid rain fell and the breeze became a howling wind, blasting the Saints who huddled patiently in line. …

Yet those who stood outside the building saw a sign. … Lifting their eyes to heaven, they glimpsed a large flock of seagulls pirouetting in the sky, circling the temple spires in the midst of the storm.

Recently, on a Saturday evening, a young family of four were eating at a restaurant. There were a father, mother, and two boys, ages about six and ten. The six-year-old made a mistake; the father was harsh with him and jerked him about as he reprimanded him. For the rest of the meal, though there was a holiday atmosphere at most of the tables, there was little conversation at theirs. As the young boy would take each bite, he glanced at his father to see if he had displeased him. On the boy’s face there was a look of worry and fear, and a soberness unnatural to a child.

It’s beginning all over again. Books. Homework. Essays. The cold lump in your stomach after you glance at your report card, knowing you’re going to hear all about that brilliant kid down the street when you get home. Once again you’ll jam the carbony mess of your report card into a pocket, muttering excuses to yourself, while the kid down the block passes by waving his grades triumphantly over his head.

“A perfect chance to explain” is never lost on these girls. They even take advantage of local holidays to share the gospel. For example, April 23 is “Día de San Jorge,” which is very similar to Valentine’s Day in other countries. It also happens to fall on the anniversary of the death of Cervantes, the great Spanish writer. So the tradition in Catalonia, the part of Spain where Barcelona is located, is for men to give women a rose on this day—and for women to give men a book.

The LDS girls in Barcelona adapted the tradition. They made roses out of crepe paper, inserted them in copies of the Book of Mormon, and helped the missionaries give them away. No one turns down a book or a rose on April 23rd.

I remember the time so well as we were preparing for my very first invasion, sitting out in the Pacific on a troop ship with three thousand men aboard. This large group of soldiers represented the first seven waves in the invasion force. Prior to disembarking, one of the Protestant chaplains held a final church service. He had us all look around and get acquainted with each other and then he said: “Now, gentlemen, I don’t want to worry you, but do you realize by tomorrow morning at eight o’clock, many of you will be standing before your Maker? Are you ready?”
Well, how would you feel, young men, if that challenge were hurled at you? At that time I was almost nineteen. Shortly after the service I found a secluded spot on the ship and called time-out and talked to my Heavenly Father. I didn’t sleep that night nor did most of the men. The next morning as the seven waves of infantry went ashore, many not making it, I dug my first foxhole and took another time-out. I remember the event well. I called upon my Heavenly Father and said, “I really need to know if thou art there.” Heavenly Father spoke to my mind, and I haven’t been the same since.

Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness includes a mortal experience where all of His children will be tested and face trials. Five years ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I have felt and still feel the physical pains from surgeries, radiation treatments, and medication side effects. I have experienced emotional struggles during torturous sleepless nights. Medical statistics indicate I will probably depart mortality earlier than I ever expected, leaving behind, for a season, a family who means everything to me.
Many suffering Saints have shared with me how they felt God’s love during their trials. I vividly recall my own experience at one point in my cancer battle when the doctors had not yet diagnosed the cause of some severe pain. I sat with my wife, intending to offer a routine blessing on our lunch. Instead, all I could do was simply weep, “Heavenly Father, please help me. I am so sick.” For the next 20 to 30 seconds, I was encircled in His love. I was given no reason for my illness, no indication of the ultimate outcome, and no relief from the pain. I just felt of His pure love, and that was and is enough.

On July 24, 1847 … Brigham Young … entered the Salt Lake Valley.
Two days later, … Brigham Young … stuck his cane in the ground, exclaiming, “Here shall stand the Temple of our God.” …

Another young woman in my ward said, “The good thing about hanging out is that you are with a big group of people. The bad thing is that no one is keeping track of who is or isn’t there. You can break away from the group pretty easily before anyone misses you. That can lead to trouble. I know that firsthand. My parents would never have let me be alone with a certain boy, but they let me hang out with my friends. Well, this boy and I always made sure we were both at the same place, and then we would take off to some back room to be alone. We never did anything really bad, but I totally regret what we did and even more the deception and dishonesty we were involved in.”

The march of Zion’s camp was not easy for the two hundred men who trudged 3200 kilometers through America in 1834, 1600 kilometers each way. Brigham Young remembered the toil of walking from Ohio and Missouri and then returning—50 or 65 kilometers a day for three months. Baggage wagons had to be pulled through mud holes. Often twenty or thirty men joined together to pull a wagon up a hill. The strong had to assist the weak and the lame. “It was seldom that I ever laid down to rest before eleven or twelve o’clock at night,” Elder Young recalled, “and we always rose very early in the morning.” The camp horn was blown between 3:00 and 4:00 A.M. (Journal of Discourses 4:101–102.)

Gage stared at the empty old bottle and turned it over in his hands. It was small and misty green, with a cork stopper in the top. Grandpa Russell had given it to him after his baptism.
“What is it?” Gage asked. “I know it’s a bottle—but there’s nothing in it.”
“Oh, it’s full,” Grandpa said.
Gage shook the bottle. “Well, it looks empty to me.”
Grandpa laughed. He pulled out the cork and held the little bottle near Gage’s ear. “Can you hear it?” he whispered.
“Hear what?” Gage whispered back.
Grandpa smiled. “Silence,” he said. Then he put the cork back in the bottle. “In today’s world, silence is pretty hard to find. It’s like medicine, and each drop is as precious as gold.”
Gage said thank you and took Grandpa’s strange gift home. But he didn’t think about it much.
A few weeks later, Gage’s uncle Vince passed away. After the funeral, lots of relatives crowded into the front room at Gage’s house to visit. Gage escaped to his bedroom and closed the door. He could hear the muffled voices of his parents and relatives down the hall.
Gage saw the old green bottle sitting on his desk and picked it up. He turned it over in his hands. Grandpa had said silence was like medicine. Gage needed to find some peace and comfort after Uncle Vince’s funeral.
Gage pulled the cork loose from the bottle and tipped it over his head, pretending to let a little silence pour out. He knew the bottle wasn’t really full of silence. But he knew he needed some quiet time to feel close to God.
He felt tears build up in his eyes. Uncle Vince wouldn’t be there anymore—no more silly jokes, no more wrestling with him. Gage’s heart hurt from missing him.
Then in the silence, Gage felt something warm grow in his heart and soften the pain. He remembered that Uncle Vince wasn’t gone forever; he had just moved on to the next world. Because of Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation, everyone would live forever. Gage was still sad, but he knew that someday he could see Uncle Vince again.
As he held the bottle in his hands, Gage felt peaceful inside. He knew it was because of the Holy Ghost and not the bottle. The bottle had just reminded him to be quiet so he could feel the Holy Ghost. He corked the bottle and set it down.
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story.
Then he went back to the front room to be with his family. He could carry the peace and comfort of the Holy Ghost inside of him even outside his quiet room.

At a recent family gathering a family member told of a question a missionary asked that had touched her heart. After teaching the first discussion, this missionary simply asked her, “How did you feel about our teachings?” This question created an excellent and edifying conclusion for the discussion.