Gospel Story Finder

Certainly this was the thinking of Florence Chukwurah of Nigeria when she was assigned to visit teach a sister who was having difficulties in her marriage and in her home, making it necessary to meet at the marketplace for a visit. After listening to and observing this sister’s challenges, Sister Chukwurah asked her husband for a priesthood blessing so that she might know how to help this troubled sister. Following the blessing she felt prompted to discuss with this sister the importance of tithing. “She tearfully told me that she did not pay her tithes because she was not making enough money,” Sister Chukwurah remembers. “I suggested that she and I discuss Malachi 3:10 and that we do so in my house so we could relax and be alone for the discussion. She consented. After our discussion I encouraged her to exercise her faith and pay her tithes for at least six months. I bore my testimony to her by the Spirit.”
Sister Chukwurah testifies that within a few months of this meeting, this sister’s circumstances changed dramatically. Her daughter received a scholarship to complete her high school education, her husband worked with the bishop to become active and accept a calling, husband and wife teamed up to improve their financial situation and their relationship, and eventually they became an inspiration to others.

I have never considered myself to be a runner or a part of the running community, but as a BYU student—because of the influence of great friends who were avid runners—I started participating in 5K runs. During my first official 5K at BYU, I learned a valuable lesson. I had covered a considerable distance during the race before I realized that my roommate, who was one of my dear friends, was still running by my side. She was a strong runner. Instead of taking off without me and placing in the top five, she chose to stay with me until I had crossed the finish line.

That same day, my roommate’s brother—a runner on BYU’s cross-country team who happened to be another of my good friends—decided to run the 5K course as well. I will never forget the love I felt as my roommate and I ran around the BYU campus together and were greeted by her brother, who, after having finished the course, turned around and returned to find us.

You would think that in a sea of 2,000 runners who were all aiming for the same destination, I would instinctively feel like a runner or a part of the 5K community. But the reason I felt I belonged was because my friends had reached out and had made me feel that I mattered, no matter my running ability or my pace.

Just being a member of a community does not mean each person feels they belong. Each of us is running through life in a race that can feel lonely and difficult. What a blessing it is when others reach out and help us realize that no matter our weaknesses or personal failings, we belong.

It was during this period of professional uncertainty that I met the woman who would become my wife. I fell ill with malaria while visiting a friend in Mamfe for a festival, and his sister, with immense kindness, nursed me back to health. We grew close, and she eventually became pregnant with our first daughter, Miracle. We would have four children together before formally marrying in 2014, a process involving the traditional payment of a bride price, which she faithfully helped me save for over time.

Let me begin with a personal example from my freshman year of college. I started the year with food and body image issues, and my self-imposed diet consisted of carrots and diet soda. In addition, I kept odd hours, usually going to bed at about 10 p.m. and getting up at about 2 a.m. to study. Poor nutrition and lack of sleep thus became my norm.

Not surprisingly, by midway through the semester, I began to experience the consequences of my bad habits. My mind began doing strange things, jumping from one idea to another. I was unable to concentrate. In addition, my skin turned orange from all the beta-carotene in the carrots. I looked like I’d had a bad experience with a spray-on tan.

I am a very private person and didn’t want to talk to anyone about how I was feeling. But I was really scared because I thought I was losing my mind. One afternoon, as I sat outside with my boyfriend (now my husband), I blurted it all out. He probably wanted to say, “Duh! You don’t eat, and you rarely sleep. Of course you are falling apart.” But he was kinder than that. He simply said, “I have read studies on people in the military, and when they don't have a balanced diet and enough sleep, they quickly lose their ability to concentrate. Let’s go get something to eat. And then maybe you should take a nap.” I’m so grateful that I opened up to him and that he knew how to steer me in the right direction.

Our bodies are miraculous, and mine healed quickly once its needs were met. However, acquiring a healthy relationship with my body and with food has been a journey. For several years I had struggled, and the only people I’d ever sought counsel from were my friends who had similar struggles. Talking to someone who was on higher ground in that regard was my first step to healing. The next semester I took a nutrition class. Thus began my education in healthy eating, and over time I learned to associate eating well with feeling good both mentally and physically.

I have seen many acts of kindness working with these people and not just from the volunteers. I like to help at the cake stand at the soup kitchen, and it’s always tricky with to open the bags we put the cakes in while wearing rubber gloves. One of the homeless men saw me struggling and came to help. Now, every week, he always opens the paper bags for us. When I asked him why he helps, he said, “I just wanted to do something.” That struck a chord with me. He just wanted to help in any way he could and being able to help someone made him feel needed and useful. On my mission, I will try to have that drive. I will try to be like Jesus Christ in any way I can.

Miranda Feltdman is not a member of the Church; she had never heard of the Book of Mormon before she was invited to audition for the musical. A stake leader knew her and felt prompted to call her. It took courage for Miranda to try out for the play, but she did, and landed a lead role—the part of Abish.
“I was really worried initially—it was my first time playing a lead role in a musical. But everyone was really supportive and had faith in me, and eventually I learned to have that sort of faith in myself,” recalls Miranda.
That faith helped her understand the role she was playing, although at first she was worried she wouldn’t be able to. “I realized that Abish really was almost exactly like me and every other young man or woman out there at some point in their life. She has to learn fairly quickly to stick to her convictions no matter what, even if the entire world—or the court in this case—seems set against her.”
Besides inspiring others, Miranda says she was able to witness firsthand what Latter-day Saints are really about. “I would never have traded that time in my life for anything else in the world.”

A few days later, the Whitmers joined the Smith family at their farm in Manchester. Knowing the Lord had promised to establish His words “in the mouth of as many witnesses as seemeth him good,” Joseph went into the woods with his father, Hyrum, and Samuel, as well as four of David Whitmer’s brothers—Christian, Jacob, Peter Jr., and John—and their brother-in-law Hiram Page.34
The eight men gathered at a spot where the Smith family often went to pray privately. With the Lord’s permission, Joseph uncovered the plates and showed them to the group. They did not see an angel as the Three Witnesses had, but Joseph let them hold the record in their hands, turn its pages, and inspect its ancient writing. Handling the plates affirmed their faith that Joseph’s testimony about the angel and the ancient record was true.35
Now that the translation was over and he had witnesses to support his miraculous testimony, Joseph no longer needed the plates. After the men left the woods and went back to the house, the angel appeared and Joseph returned the sacred record to his care.36

As a young man, shortly after returning from my mission to New York, I had the opportunity of traveling in chartered busses to Palmyra with 150 wonderful young women from BYU Provo and other Utah schools. These young ladies served as special missionaries to help put on the spectacular Hill Cumorah Pageant. On our return trip across the United States we visited several Church history sites along the old Mormon pioneer trail. One of these sites was the historic Mormon cemetery at Winter Quarters near Omaha, Nebraska.

As the girls and I walked quietly up the hill containing the graves of many Saints who died there, our spirits were subdued. Located at the top of the hill is that impressive Avard Fairbanks monument with which you are no doubt familiar. It is a statue of a pioneer mother and father, a shovel in his hand, standing before the open grave of their baby. At the base of the monument embossed in bronze are listed the names of most of the 600 pioneers buried there. Those 600 graves are just a tithing of the 6,000 graves of other courageous Saints who lie along the rest of the trail to the Salt Lake Valley. Without a cue or suggestion from anyone, the girls spontaneously began to sing "Come, Come, Ye Saints."

At first their singing was very strong and resolute, but as the words and the spirit of that stirring hymn sank deeper into their hearts, their singing turned more into sobbing. By the last verse I think I was the only one still singing. As I voiced the words “And should we die before our journey’s through,” I was scanning the alphabetical list of names on the bronze plaque. In the ‘F’s, two names caught my attention—Samuel Flake, age five months, and Frederick Flake, age one day. Then I stopped singing, too. Despite unfathomable hardships, the pioneers' faith could not be shaken.

I discovered awhile ago that it is possible. I was dating Steve at the time. We’d been out four or five times, and I’d enjoyed the time we’d spent together. Steve was the Young Adult president for his stake, a good student, a sports enthusiast (he’d been on his high school tennis team and spent each Saturday morning and every other free moment playing basketball), and an incurable mountain man. (He kept his sleeping bag and backpack locked up in his jeep lest the urge to head for the hills hit and he be caught unprepared.) By our fifth date I’d figured I knew him fairly well.
He picked me up that night, and we went to the movie Fiddler on the Roof. After the show, we dropped by a pie shop. As I took my first bite of the monstrous slice of banana cream pie in front of me, he startled me.
“You know,” he said, “I really don’t know you very well.”
He knew at least as much about me as I knew about him, but I was unable to respond immediately (banana pie, you know), so I just nodded my head up and down.
“I want to play a game.” (He was the first guy I’d dated to come right out and say he played games.) “Do you want to play?”
I swallowed, smiled, and said, “Yeah.”
“Okay. It might seem corny at first, but just give it a try.”
He explained the rules. He would ask three questions, and we would each take five minutes per question to respond. We would both answer each question before going on to the next. The object was to let the other person get to know the person behind the smile.
I took another bite of my pie as he began.
“If you had a full day to spend doing anything you wanted, what would you do?”
“You go first.” I pointed to my pie.
I’d never known he wanted to learn to skydive. Or how much he loved his nieces and nephews. (He would have spent the afternoon with them at the zoo.) I’d known he liked good food, but I had not known he was a great cook. (He’d said, “I’d just fix a simple breakfast: strawberry waffles and whipped cream, fried eggs, bacon, orange juice and oatmeal.” I decided that moment was an inappropriate time to bring up my lack of domesticity—I didn’t have the slightest idea how you went about washing clothes in an automatic washer or how to fry bacon.) He surprised and delighted me when he told me he was a photography buff; we set up a date to go shooting the following Saturday. I found myself starting to like this game more and more. (It had been months since I’d held a roll of Kodachrome tenderly in my hand.)
His next question threw me a little. “Heidi, what is one thing that you’re good at, and why do you enjoy doing it?” I didn’t like the idea of having to brag about myself, but I finally decided I was a fairly good tennis player. Anyway, I enjoyed playing the game. Two or three weeks later, I regretted my choice as we climbed back into his jeep after a big match: he beat me 6–0, 6–1, 6–0.
He asked his last question. “All right, question number three. If you had $100 to spend any way you pleased, how would you spend it?”
I can’t remember now how either of us said we’d spend the money, but I remember well the hour-long discussion that resulted. Steve revealed a side of himself that night I hadn’t known before. He had always appeared so confident and in control, as though there was never any question where his life was headed and how he’d get there. But the more he talked, the more I realized he wasn’t so different from me. He too struggled at times to know what he should do with his life.
Steve had been home from his mission nearly six months, and he was anxious to decide on a course of study that would suit him. He wanted to teach seminary, but was also considering getting an MBA or going to law school. He wondered if he would find the same fulfillment in the business world he would in teaching. (He loved to teach and was a natural at it—I had attended his Sunday School class the week before and had been amazed at how gifted he really was.)
I don’t know if he was any more certain which direction his life should take after that discussion than he was before, but we’ve talked since, and both of us agreed that that discussion was a turning point in our relationship. Though it took place years ago, that question date is still one of my most memorable. I was surprised at how much I learned about Steve that night, and I remember he said the same thing about me as he said goodnight. It established a firm foundation of trust and openness upon which we could further build our friendship.
Though I can’t promise these are foolproof ways to snare a husband or wife (Steve got married a year or so ago to someone else), I can promise they’re great ways to really get to know the person behind the smile!

Last June my father lost his job. My dad went to a lot of different interviews before getting a job in Jackson, Alabama. None of my family wanted to move because we loved it where we lived in Texas. There were a lot of young people in my ward there, and when we went to visit the Jackson Branch, there were only about 30 people. I felt out of place, but I know we are supposed to be here. I just want to say that the New Era has helped me a lot through this.
Abby AultJackson, Alabama

Several years ago I picked up the desk pen in my office at Brigham Young University to sign a paper that had been prepared for my signature, something I did at least a dozen times each day. That document committed the University to a particular course of action we had decided to follow. All the staff work had been done, and all appeared to be in order. But as I went to sign the document, I was filled with such negative thoughts and forebodings that I put it to one side and asked for the entire matter to be reviewed again. It was, and within a few days additional facts came to light which showed that the proposed course of action would have caused the University serious problems in the future.

One winter day, I was walking the school grounds with my friends Alice and Trevor when we came across a sign that read: “Cups of tea now available.” Excitedly, Trevor offered to buy us each a cup of tea. “No, thank you,” I said.
Trevor offered me tea each day, and I continued to decline. Finally, he asked me why I wouldn’t drink the tea. I told him about the Word of Wisdom, hoping that he would understand. But he just turned it into a big joke. He tried to get me to break the Word of Wisdom.
“It’s not like you’re taking drugs,” he said. “A cup of tea is harmless!”
The next week, he and his friends started teasing me even worse. I tried to hold my head high, though it wasn’t easy.
Over time, they felt bad for their actions and stopped teasing me. One day, my teacher told me: “You have always been an example of your faith and religion. I am proud of you.”
I am proud of myself too. It isn’t always easy, but I know I’ll be blessed for standing up for my standards.
Nicolé M., West Midlands, United Kingdom

In Nauvoo, Illinois, she helped care for the Saints who were sick with malaria. She nursed the family of Stephen and Hannah Markham, who insisted that Cyrena stay with them. While living in the Markhams’ home, she met her future husband, Philemon C. Merrill. They were married in September 1840. They had two children, a daughter and a son, before they were forced to leave Nauvoo in 1846. Although the couple experienced much together, including participating in plural marriage, Cyrena wrote that she had “lived in perfect harmony” with her husband for 57 years.10

When we got home I invited my best friend on the team, Rosa, to go to church with me. She enjoyed the meetings and felt peaceful there. After that, Rosa came to church almost every week. It was so wonderful to see the gospel touch her life.
About a month later I received an unexpected phone call from a young man on the men’s cross-country team, Brendan. He told me that he had taken the missionary lessons and was getting baptized in a week! I was so happy and thrilled for him. Both Rosa and I attended Brendan’s baptism. Rosa also took the missionary lessons and later chose to be baptized.

Another problem that has been solved by radar has to do with the activities of the cotton bollworm in the Sudan. Farmers there were always perplexed by the appearance of the crop-destroying larvae in their fields. How did the larvae get there? Where did they come from?
By using radar, scientists discovered that every night during their active season, bollworm moths took to the air out of fields of groundnuts, where they spent their days. The moths would fly for about an hour and a half, covering a distance of 15 to 25 miles. Then they would alight in the farmers’ cotton fields, where they would lay their eggs that would shortly hatch into the leaf-devouring larvae. Armed with this knowledge, the farmers could combat the insects at their source before their cotton fields were infested.

I grew up, joined the Royal Navy, and after nine years began working for a fire-protection company. One evening after work, I heard a knock at the door. When I opened it, two sister missionaries introduced themselves. I was tired, dirty, and hungry, so I suggested that they come back later in the evening or some other time.
To my surprise they returned an hour later. I invited them in. As soon as they started talking, I knew there was something special about their message. My home felt different, and I knew it emanated from these two sisters.
They gave me the first discussion that night and the second discussion the following night. Two elders then came every night until I had received all the discussions. I began reading the Book of Mormon and praying. Getting down on my knees to pray for the first time in 20 years was the most spiritual experience I had had in my life.
I made the commitment to be baptized a week after finishing the discussions. After my baptism, Elder Ross and Elder Fullerger laid their hands on my head to give me the gift of the Holy Ghost. As soon as their hands touched my head, my experience with the Spirit 20 years before came back to me. Something precious that had been preserved within me—but had been suppressed by all the mistakes I had made in life—was spiritually reunited with my memory. I was overwhelmed to think that I meant so much to the Savior that He had not forgotten me.
I’m grateful to the missionaries who taught me the gospel and to the members of my first ward who nourished me. Most of all, I’m grateful to my Savior, whose existence I had once doubted but whom I now gratefully serve.

Sophie had hurried back to the woodland pasture to look for the cow she had somehow left behind. There is so much to learn about farming and animals in this new country, she thought, sighing. Sophie and her brother and their parents had emigrated from Germany to a farm near the base of the Ozark Mountains and everything here seemed difficult and strange.

Searching frantically for the lost animal, Sophie finally sighted it lying in the tall grass. When she got closer, she saw a gash in the cow’s flank. It didn’t look too serious, but the cow still refused to get up. She lay there rolling her eyes and mooing plaintively. Papa had once said that fear sometimes made animals and people stop trying to help themselves, and Sophie guessed this was the trouble with the cow. Still, she pleaded and patted and shoved, but the animal wouldn’t budge.

Every day in good weather, it was Sophie’s job to drive the cows here to graze, to watch and tend them, and to drive them back home again in the late afternoon. Although the animals usually stayed with the bell cow, this one must have strayed while Sophie ate her lunch or while she waded in the brook. Papa will punish me and I deserve it, thought Sophie. But oh, how I wish we were safe at home.

Safe at home! The words bounced in her head, and her heart began to thump. She had often heard the cry of a panther in the distance when she drove the herd homeward. Papa had told her that panthers sometimes lure people to them with a cry like that of a lost child. Sophie shivered. It was frightening to be out here all alone.

The girl knew that even if the cow were willing, it would be unwise to drive it home through the darkness. She called to Shep and jogged out onto the dirt wagon lane. Inside the thick tunnel of overhanging branches and hazel brush, it was already growing gloomy, and she had more than a mile to run before she would be home to ask Papa what to do.

Sophie’s golden braids flopped wildly as her bare feet kicked up puffs of dust on the road. “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed suddenly, remembering that it was market day and Papa and Willie would stay in town overnight. They were counting on her to be safely at home with Mama, who was expecting a baby.

Sophie knew she had to let Mama know what had happened. Reaching home at last, she burst into the kitchen. Mama was at the wood stove stirring something in the kettle. Breathlessly, Sophie began to tell her mother about the hurt cow. Mama’s usually bright expression changed to a look of concern. For a long moment she concentrated without speaking.

At last Mama said in a calm voice, “We must do what we must do. It will be for you and Shep to watch out for our cow and I will be fine here alone. But we must make a good plan.” She rested her arm on Sophie’s shoulder, thinking. After a while Mama raised her head and spoke with assurance. “Now, this is what you should do. First fetch a rope and make a leash for Shep so he will stay close to you. Then take a torch with you and watch over the cow until morning.”

Sophie’s heart leaped. Allnight? Alone with only Shep? But Mama was pushing her into action with more words. “Come to the shed. I will light the torch. There is no time to lose.”

Sophie was soon loping along the lane with a lighted torch in one hand, Shep’s rope in the other, a blanket roll on her back, and a bottle of turpentine for the cow’s wound in her apron pocket. There was no time to be afraid. She must be brave and Mama said she would be praying for her safety.

In the torchlight, Sophie could see the cow, quiet now in her fear. She wedged the torch in a hole of a tree stump and tied up Shep. Moving as fast as she could, she gathered wood to make four bonfires around them.

Finally, Sophie knelt beside the cow and carefully poured turpentine into the wound. The animal rolled her eyes and bawled loudly as the medicine burned into her flesh. Once or twice she tried to get up, but Sophie held her head down, patting and talking soothingly to her. At last, the cow seemed to sense that the girl was trying to help and she grew quiet. Only the involuntary flinching of her side told of her pain.

Sophie lit two of the bonfires when it was dark and then beat out the torch. Mama had said to keep it ready to relight if some animal dared come too close. The plan was to keep two fires burning all night.

Sophie spread her blanket near the cow and then petted her until the animal’s eyes closed in sleep. The hours seemed to drag, and the silence was vast and deep. Now and then, a twig snapped. Once when Shep heard a faraway lonely cry, he opened his eyes and growled deeply. Sophie felt her scalp tingle. An opossum hanging by its tail overhead startled her before it moved away. More than once she felt like crying.

When Sophie lighted the last two fires, she prayed they would burn until dawn. What if they don’t? she wondered, then pushed the thought away. She dared not think about it.

At last it began to grow light! Sophie let out a sigh of relief. The long nightwatch was over and all would be well. Now she could kick dirt over the dying embers and untie Shep. She looked toward the cow and was surprised to see the animal struggling to her feet! The wound was beginning to heal already. The cow put out her big, rough tongue and licked Sophie’s hand.

Sophie breathed a prayer of thanks, then gave the cow a hug and said, “Come on, love. It’s home at last for you and me!”

The intimidating part of preparing to be with you this morning is shared in a very brief story of an experience Sister Banks and I had while touring one of the missions in the southern part of the Philippines several years ago. After one of the zone conference meetings, the mission president’s wife, who was a local Filipino sister, came to me and with some hesitation said, “I hope I will not offend you, President, but I thought perhaps you would like to know you were using some words we don’t use or understand here in the Philippines.”

I assured her that she would not offend me and that I would appreciate her sharing with me what she meant. The Philippines is often referred to as an English-speaking country, but that is true only to a certain extent. The sweet wife of the mission president, Sister Amistad, then proceeded to tell me, “President, you used the word photograph today. In the Philippines, we really don’t understand what photograph means. What you really mean is ‘picture.’” Then she said, “Another word you used throughout the meeting was bashful.” (I had invited the missionaries to participate with me and not be bashful.) She said, “I went home and looked up in the dictionary what bashful meant, and what you really meant is ‘shy’ and ‘timid.’”

I thanked her for sharing this with me and asked her in our meeting the next day if she would write down all the words I used that would not be understood by the Filipinos. She hesitated at first, but with my encouragement she said she would. The next day she produced another 20 words, and I have tried to adapt my vocabulary accordingly.

The intimidating factor I mentioned earlier is that I really believe I have lost much of my vocabulary in the many years I have been gone in trying to learn to converse in understandable terms with the wonderful people we have been blessed to live with throughout the world.

I pursued an education, both undergraduate and a law degree. I was married midway through my legal education. I had my first son the year after I passed the bar. I had babies, and my husband and I loved and nurtured them while we were both working. It was busy, sometimes hectic; we were stretched and sometimes tired. I supported him, and he supported me. Family was, and still is, our top priority. My husband and I sought inspiration in these choices and in the timing. It was what we felt impressed to do. We were trying to let God prevail.
From a financial and professional perspective, it would have made sense to put off having children until I was more established in my career. But in letting the Lord author our stories, we sometimes do things that the world can’t make sense of. I juggled pregnancy, birthing babies, nurturing children, carpools, little league, Church responsibilities, being a supportive spouse, and my professional pursuits. It was a joyful juggle I wouldn’t change. We felt confident in our course because we were letting God prevail.

My eldest son was always a healthy, obedient, and focused child in the ways of the Lord. When the time came to serve a mission, he was prepared. I remember him saying that he had always planned to be a missionary and we, as his parents, were happy and grateful. He was always a loving child and had a wonderful sense of humor that charmed everyone who knew him.
A year and a half after serving an honorable mission, he was attending college with defined goals for his life, preparing for a profession, meeting an eternal companion, and starting a family. I was the happiest and most peaceful mother to have such a focused, loved, and cherished son.
On May 2, 2022, while I was working from home, I received news that would forever change my life and that of my family. My eldest son had drowned at a beach. It couldn’t be true! Did I hear wrong? Was it a joke? No, it was real. For a moment, I felt like I was falling into an endless abyss. Then the thought came to me that my son was already on the other side of the veil.
I went to my room and knelt and prayed to Heavenly Father like never before. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t complain. I simply asked for strength. I did it with so much faith and certainty that from that moment, everything passed in slow motion.
I cried for my beloved son, but at the same time, I felt that everything would be okay. I felt calm. I thought of the temple, the covenants I made there with my husband, and the promises given to my family.
From that moment, I had the strength to comfort my younger son, be a loving companion to my devastated husband, and I fully, and without any doubt, believe that families can be eternal. I understood that my son had moved to the other side of the veil, but he continued to be and still is my beloved son. I felt and recognized that his time on earth had ended, but that one day I could embrace him again and we would be together forever.