Gospel Story Finder

Across campus, Jackie is talking to another close friend, Petra Bäcker, 15. Petra is German, but she was raised in Saudi Arabia and learned to speak fluent English by attending international schools in which English is the classroom language. She has lived in several countries and came to Kaiserslautern in 1976. “I was glad to make friends with Melanie and Jackie,” she says. “I was interested at first because they spoke English, and I wanted to keep in practice. But now they are my best friends.”
In fact, Petra spends so much time in the Howells’ home and with Jackie and Melanie at school and church that some people think all three are sisters and that Petra is LDS. “The Howells have been great friends and good examples to me,” Petra continues. “They are just like sisters to me. We go to Mutual together, we went to youth conference together, and we do something together almost every day.”

Like so many young people do, when I was young I occasionally dreamed of being rich and famous. I am now grateful that that dream was not realized. My understanding of what success really is has changed over the years of my life. It began to change on my first mission to Brazil over 45 years ago.
One day, my companion and I went out to visit a poor sister who was widowed. In those days there were no stakes or wards in Brazil, only mission districts and branches. Sometimes missionaries looked after the members.
Finally, we arrived at a humble home in a very isolated area. This home had a dirt floor and open windows without any glass. The wind and the flies could come right through. Never before in my life had I been in a home where people live with open windows and a dirt floor. Despite this, the house was clean and neat, curtains were hung, and the boards on the inside of the house were whitewashed. Despite being primitive, the home had a cozy feeling about it. We asked after this poor widow’s health and well-being. She seemed quite happy and contented. We then began to have something of a gospel lesson. She participated freely. We thought that we were the teachers, but it soon became apparent that she knew more than we did. Her faith was deep, and her knowledge of the great eternal truths of where we came from, who we are, and where we are going was very profound.
I had my eyes opened. It was astonishing to hear this sister in these humble circumstances explain the great purposes of God in the grand scheme of the earth and its creation. I was reminded about what James said in his great epistle: “Hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him?” (James 2:5).
In contrast to this experience, I have seen many who were wealthy who have wasted their talents and energy to a point where their spiritual understanding was dulled. Some were so preoccupied with money and things that they missed the grand purpose of life. I am sure that while poor people did not choose to be poor, often it is within their grasp to know, understand, and enjoy the really important things. So if one does not have all the things of this world one would wish, one can still have and enjoy the rich, satisfying gifts of life and the blessings of God, such as faith, family, and friends.
This poor widow on the outskirts of São Paulo made the most of her straitened circumstances—circumstances that could not easily be changed. She realized that she should not make her life miserable by wishing it were otherwise. We ought always to try to improve on the things that can be improved, but there are some circumstances that cannot be changed. This impoverished woman enjoyed her independence, and she owed no one any money. She was industrious and thrifty. She crocheted beautiful cloths which were sold in the city to satisfy her simple wants, but she was not poor in spirit. She was rich in the things that really matter.
From that experience many years ago, I learned much. I am persuaded that this humble widow who lived in a house with a dirt floor and no panes in the window is an heir to the exaltation of God.

Being a missionary in the newly created Minnesota-Wisconsin Mission is a very great blessing. Serving stateside is rare and beautiful. While growing up I always dreamed of going to some faraway, mystical country. But I ended up in the great United States of America. The gospel is needed everywhere, especially here. I am proud and happy to have been chosen to serve in this area. I want to commend the New Era for the missionary edition. The articles are of great worth to the elders and sisters now serving, as well as those who will serve in the future. Your contest issue was also top-notch. “The Winner,” though fictional, could easily have been factual. It helped me evaluate my own life.
P.S. I thought you might be interested in seeing this street sign in Wisconsin.
Elder John R. TitensorMinnesota-Wisconsin Mission

When I was 14, I met some young women who were excellent leaders. At that time, my family moved across the United States and became members of a new ward. I do not remember who served in the Mia Maid class presidency, but I clearly remember that the young women were particularly kind to me. They sincerely embraced a scared and scrawny new girl as a long-lost friend and made me feel welcome. Coming from Delaware, where I was the only Mormon girl in my junior high school and where the only other Mormon girl I knew lived an hour’s drive from my home, I thought, “This must be what heaven is like!”
For the first time in my life, I had a circle of friends who lived the standards in For the Strength of Youth, invited me to participate in activities, and shared their testimonies of the gospel with me. Their examples of loving-kindness did more to secure me to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at that time than any talk or lesson could have done. In their love and Christlike light, they were the message of the gospel of Christ, and they were the ones to lead and guide me into His fold.

When I joined the Church, I didn’t know anyone, and everything was new. In seminary, I was able to make true, sincere friends who helped me prepare for my mission.
Elder Eduardo Moreira,Brazil Goiânia Mission

Faith in the future is demonstrated by a couple sealed in the temple. They understand that by obedience to the teachings of Jesus Christ and the plan of happiness of our Father in Heaven, they can have a joyous life together. They recognize that when the challenges intended to be growth opportunities come, they will find ways, as prompted by the Holy Ghost, to overcome them in ways that are productive and character building.

“I love to talk with my siblings and learn more about them. When we talk together, we share our experiences of each day and have fun being around one another. My sister will sometimes cook for me, and it’s great when she does, because she is a fabulous chef. She’s taught me a couple of recipes to prepare me for going on a mission.”
Joseph A., Georgia, USA

When our son Matthew was five, he fell from the top of the high diving board at our neighborhood pool. He hit the concrete deck and suffered a fractured skull and a brain concussion. He was rushed by a Life Flight helicopter to the Houston Medical Center for emergency treatment. I needed priesthood assistance immediately. Our home teacher and our priesthood leader were both worthy and prepared at that moment. They helped give Matthew a blessing, and he completely recovered.

Growing up in Australia, our closest temple was Hamilton New Zealand. As a new missionary in January 1976, I received my endowment there. I still remember experiencing tranquility and peace in a house of the Lord. I also remember the distinct feeling that I needed a choice eternal companion to receive the full blessings the temple has to offer.
In January 1979 when I returned with Maxine Thatcher, a most beautiful and righteous girl from my home ward, we were sealed for time and eternity. We marveled and rejoiced in the covenants we made to each other and the Lord.

The moon has fallen from the sky
Into a field that lies nearby.
Yet creeping there I slyly peer
And find the moon is nowhere near,
And searching for the fallen one,
I’m startled by the rising sun.

“Look,” Jessica said, pointing to the window. “It’s snowing.”
We ran to look outside. The tiny flakes started falling faster and faster. Then the flakes got bigger. They fell in swirls and swoops, and sometimes we could hardly see the barn through the curtain of white. By the time we finished lunch, the snow was three feet deep.
We watched from the window, feeling snug and warm inside the house. The cedar trees bent and swayed under their load, and the mailbox wore a thick white muff. Every now and then we heard a sharp crack as a limb broke under the weight of the snow.
Suddenly the lights blinked—once, twice. We held our breaths. Mom hurried about, setting out candles and filling the oil lamp on the mantel. The lights flickered again, then gave up.
“Listen to the quiet,” said Jessica. There was no television, no radio, no hum from the refrigerator. The only sound we heard was the tick of the grandfather clock by the front door.
David brought an armful of wood from the shed for the fireplace and soon had a blaze crackling and popping. We all gathered around the hearth, bundling into our warmest clothes. Our dog, Duke, crept closer to the fire and curled up for a nap.
The wind howled around the house, and I was glad to be inside. “What about the ponies?” asked Jessica. “Will they get cold?”
“They’re safe inside the barn,” said Dad. “I put extra straw in their stalls.”
For supper we roasted hot dogs in the fireplace and ate off of paper plates. It was just like a picnic. We toasted marshmallows for dessert. I let mine burn on the outside so that they were crisp and almost black. Inside they were gooey and hot.
“Mmmm,” said Jessica, licking her sticky fingers. “I wish the electricity would go off every day.”
“I’ll bet you’d soon get tired of that,” Mom said.
“Well, it’s time for family home evening,” Dad said and brought out his guitar. He played while we sang “I Am a Child of God.” David said an opening prayer. Then, by the light of the oil lamp, Mom read us the story of the brother of Jared. The flickering candles made spooky shadows against the walls. I sat close to Dad, glad to be by the fire.
Afterward, we sang “Over in the Meadow” all the way through, and “Bingo” and “Old MacDonald” and “Frosty the Snowman.”
“We can make a snowman tomorrow,” I said.
David turned Duke out. When he came back inside, he looked like a snow dog. Jessica dried him off with a towel.
We knelt together for family prayer, then went to bed early in our warmest pajamas and with extra blankets piled on our beds. “May we have waffles for breakfast tomorrow?” I asked as Mom tucked me in.
“We’ll have cold cereal if the power is still out,” Mom reminded me.
The moon was bright, and I could see its reflection on the snow from my window. Everything looked strange and different. The house sounded different too.
I woke up in the middle of the night. My nose was cold. Suddenly, I heard a click and a hum. The electricity was back on! I heard the furnace start, and I snuggled deeper into my blankets. The house would be warm again by morning. Maybe there would be waffles for breakfast, after all.

When I was in high school, my mom would place the New Era so that when I came home from school, I would be sure to see it. I usually glanced at the cover and that was it. My freshman year of college my mom started sending me the New Era every month. At first I would just put it on the coffee table hoping to impress someone. Now in my sophomore year, I anxiously await the arrival of the New Era. I really appreciate the uplifting articles and the inspirational musical numbers. Now I don’t have to use the New Era to impress anyone but myself.
Heidi SmithEllensburg, Washington

I belong to a family of five, and we attend church every Sunday, all except my dad. He is not a member of the Church, and this makes me sad. He is a very good dad and sometimes comes to parties or trips organized by the ward. I would like it if he always came.
My mom taught me in Primary that Heavenly Father listens to our prayers and wants to help us. So I said a prayer that He would help my dad understand how much the gospel means for our family.
On Saturday I was about to watch TV when something happened. My dad came and said there were better things I could be doing instead of sitting in front of the TV. “For example,” he said, “what would you think if I read you a nice story from the Liahona?”
So he sat down with me and my two little brothers and read to us. I don’t know how my dad knew those stories were in the Liahona. But I do know that Heavenly Father had listened to my prayers and answered, touching my dad’s heart so he read something in the Church magazine.
I thank my Heavenly Father because He listens to my prayers.

Larry trudged home from school and tried to imagine how the family cabin must look buried beneath the snow. School was out for Christmas vacation, and he and his family were going to the mountains for the holidays. He couldn’t wait to go sleigh riding with them on the hill near their cabin.
As Larry turned the corner, he could see his dad and his brother, Jonathan, already packing the car.
“You’re just in time to help carry out the heavy stuff,” Dad called to him.
Soon they were packed and on their way. The little dirt road that led from the highway to their cabin was covered with snow, and Larry and Jonathan had to help clear the way with snow shovels. It seemed like forever before they finally reached the cabin.
Larry gazed fondly at the cabin. It was a beautiful sight with the snow piled high everywhere. Now Larry realized why he and his father had worked so hard strengthening the ceiling beams inside and patching the roof outside last summer. It would never have held all this snow if they hadn’t.
Everyone, even Julia and little April, helped take the things in from the car, and Dad made a fire in the fireplace. They heated the stew and rolls Mother had made before they left home, and ate their meal in front of the warm, crackling fire.
“Tomorrow we’ll go to the meadow and cut down a Christmas tree,” Dad announced.
“Yippee!” whooped four young voices.
“But now we’d better get a good night’s sleep,” Mom said with a yawn.
Larry woke up early and looked out the small attic window. The trees sparkled with silver ice crystals. Everything was still and quiet outside. Inside, everyone was bustling around, trying to keep warm while Dad stoked the fire. The morning was spent in decorating the cabin and making tree ornaments. In the afternoon Dad and the four children set out to find a perfect Christmas tree. The sled left deep tracks in the snow as they took turns pulling each other to the meadow.
“Sky’s clouding up,” Dad said. “We’d better hurry and find the tree we want.”
A tree was finally chosen, and while Dad chopped it down, the children made a snowman. They hardly noticed that snow had started falling.
“Let’s get moving,” urged Dad as he piled the tree onto the sled. The children came running, eager to get the tree to the cabin.
“Where’s April?” Dad asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Julia. “She was here with me just a minute ago.”
Dad called, but there was no answer. The snow was falling faster.
“You three pull the tree back to the cabin. Just follow the tracks we made coming.”
“I know the way back,” said Larry. “We’ll be OK.”
Dad walked in the opposite direction, calling for little April. Her tracks were quickly being covered by the falling snow, and the sun was starting to go down beyond the mountain.
Larry and Jonathan took turns pulling the sled, and Julia pushed from the back when they went up the hill. At the top they could barely see the lights of the cabin through the blowing snow, which had become a blizzard. When they reached the cabin, Mother opened the door.
“I thought you’d never get here. I have some hot chocolate with marshmallows ready for you.” Then Mother sensed something was wrong. “What’s the matter? Where are your father and April?” she asked.
Julia spoke first. “April’s lost, Mom. Dad’s out looking for her.”
Mother turned and sat down in the rocker by the hearth. In the light of the fire her face looked pale.
It was Larry who broke the silence. “I’m going back to the meadow, Mom.”
“No, Larry. We don’t want anybody else lost in the storm.”
“I have to go, Mom. Dad might need some help. I can’t sit here and do nothing.”
Mom looked into Larry’s eyes, and instead of her little boy, she saw a young man who would soon receive the priesthood. “All right, Larry. But drink a cup of hot chocolate and get warm before you go out again.”
As Larry stood drinking the hot chocolate by the fire, he glanced at his somber brother and sister. He set his cup down, and after putting two blankets into a plastic bag, he bundled up, put some matches from the cupboard into his pocket, and said good-bye.
Outside, he took the tree off the sled, placed the blankets on it, and piled on some dry wood from the shed. He gathered some chips of wood and some small twigs that were stored by the woodpile and put them into his jacket pockets. He covered the wood with a piece of plastic from the shed and began to pull the sled toward the hill.
In the cabin everyone sat staring at the fire.
“I want to do something, too,” Jonathan said.
Julia looked at her mom and nodded her head in agreement.
“There is something we can all do,” said Mother, kneeling by her chair. Julia and Jonathan knelt beside her.
Out in the meadow Dad called and called, but the howling wind outshouted him, threw snow into his face, and obliterated those tracks that had been faintly visible in the fading light. Suddenly something inside of him told him to stand still and listen. This is silly, he thought as he stood still. But the impression wouldn’t leave him, and during a brief lull in the raging blizzard he heard a soft, whimpering sound. Following the sound just a few yards, he came upon a little mound half-buried in the snow.
“April!” he cried.
Two little eyes peeked out from under a snow-covered hood. Dad grabbed her and quickly brushed the snow from her jacket. He unzipped his parka, pressed her against the warmth of his own body, then began immediately to retrace his own tracks before they, too, were covered by the snow.
Meanwhile, when Larry reached the meadow, he pulled the sled over by the snowman. He hoped that the snowman would help block the wind while he tried to make a fire. But the wind kept changing directions. By using the snowman and his own body as shields against the wind, however, he was able to get some of the chips and twigs to light.
Almost immediately a gust of wind blew the little fire out! Larry took the remaining wood off the sled and wrapped the plastic around it. Then he took the sled and tipped it sideways. It helped to block the wind a little, and he was finally able to get the kindling burning enough to catch onto the larger wood. Soon he had a good fire going, its light a beacon in the meadow. Larry sat on the sled by the fire and waited.
Dad’s arms were getting weary, and it was almost impossible to see any tracks now. After a while the blizzard slowed down, and he came across a few tracks in a sheltered place. His excitement turned to despair when he realized that the tracks were fresh! They were his own tracks. He had been walking in a circle!
Dad sank to the ground and began to pray harder than he had ever prayed before. When he stood up again, he looked around carefully in each direction. There, off to his right, was a faint glow. He began to walk toward it, never taking his eyes off it. He couldn’t figure out where the light was coming from. He was sure it couldn’t be the cabin, but he moved gratefully toward it as fast as he could. He reached a clearing and saw the meadow. And there by the snowman was the best fire he had ever seen!
“Hey!” he yelled.
“Dad! Is that you?” Larry called. He ran to his father and threw his arms around him. Together they stood for a moment, shedding tears of joy.
They removed April’s jacket and wrapped her in one of the blankets warmed by the fire and sat her on the sled by the blaze. Dad took off his coat and wrapped up in the other blanket and rested near the fire too.
When they had warmed up a bit, and Dad and April had their parkas on again, he and Larry doused the fire, put April onto the sled, and walked side by side, pulling the sled between them. As they neared the cabin, they saw three worried faces peering through the window.
“There they are! I see them coming!” yelled Jonathan. The cabin door flew open. There were squeals of joy and tears of gratitude as everyone hugged everyone else. Soon they were sipping hot chocolate around the fireplace.
“Dad, you saved April’s life,” said Julia.
“I tried, Julia, I found April, but we were both saved by Larry. It was the light from his fire that saved us.”
“And I know someone else who helped, too,” said Mother.
“Yes,” said Dad. “And I think it’s time to thank Him.”

Priscilla Sampson-Davis first met the missionaries in 1964 while living in Holland. Her husband rejected them, but Sister Sampson-Davis was interested and read the Book of Mormon. When the family returned to Ghana, she found Brother Johnson’s group studying the doctrines of the Church and became an active participant. Fourteen years later, she and her children were among the first to be baptized when the missionaries arrived in Ghana.

One Sunday after joining the Church, Sister Sampson-Davis saw a vision. It was as if she were at sacrament meeting. A person in white apparel stood in front of the stand, beckoning to her. “I came and stood by him. He asked me to turn around and look at the faces of the people to see if they were all enjoying the service. I saw that some of them had bowed their heads. He asked me why some of those people were not joining in the singing. I said, ‘Because they didn’t go to school and they can’t read English. They can’t sing, and that is the reason they bow their heads.’

“Then he said, ‘Wouldn’t you like to help your sisters and brothers who can’t read and who can’t join you in singing praises to Heavenly Father?’”

Even though she couldn’t write the language well, she replied, “I will try.”

The vision ended, and she immediately translated “Redeemer of Israel” into her native language. Sister Sampson-Davis went on to translate the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, the Pearl of Great Price, Gospel Principles, and various other Church materials. (These items are still in preparation.) In seeking approval to translate the Book of Mormon, Priscilla says:

“I discussed the translation with the mission president, and he asked me to continue. …

“I felt good as I translated the Book of Mormon. I knew the Lord wanted me to do it, because at times when I would use a certain word or a phrase, suddenly, as if somebody was standing behind me, I would hear, ‘No, use this word,’ or ‘No, not that word.’ I always had an eraser with me, because the Spirit was always teaching me.”

Our guinea pig was Christy. When Christy was two years old, a little girl in our town was kidnapped. Trying to be wise parents, we spent a lot of time role-playing with Christy what she should do if approached by a stranger. We even showed her pictures of the kidnapped girl and reminded Christy what had happened in the case.

Our efforts had mixed results. Christy was never kidnapped, but she was also unable to sleep alone for three months.

Young John was also prepared to accept the restoration of the gospel through other spiritual experiences while yet in his youth. As a very young boy he had seen in the heavens an angel holding a trumpet to his mouth. When Elder Pratt announced that God’s angel had indeed restored the gospel to the earth, John remembered this manifestation of his youth and recognized it had been given to him as a sign of the truth he would receive so many years later. And this was not the only spiritual manifestation he had received, for he reported that “often when alone, and sometimes in company, I heard sweet, soft, melodious music, as if performed by angelic or supernatural beings” (Life of John Taylor, pp. 27–28).

Ernest Sibanda met two Mormon missionaries on bicycles—Elder Black and Elder Kaelin—in December 1978. They left a Book of Mormon with him. Before their visit, Ernest had already spent many years studying religion. In fact, he had been a teacher for his church for nine years and a pastor for three years.
The night Ernest received his copy of the Book of Mormon he stayed up until 2:00 in the morning reading enthusiastically. He couldn’t wait to meet the missionaries the following day. Ernest told them that he had learned more from Joseph Smith about Jesus Christ than all the ministers he had ever met. Ernest was baptized shortly thereafter, followed by his wife and children a few weeks later.
Of his baptism day, he wrote, “I felt very free. I felt released from every evil. I found there was love in me for my family. I found there was love within me for the Church.”2
Ernest Sibanda proved to be a great strength to the Church. He served as Sunday School president, branch clerk, and second counselor in a branch presidency. He also fulfilled an assignment from the South Africa mission president to translate hymns from English to Shona.

“Before I tracked the time I spent, I thought it was going to be really hard to take time out and read the scriptures—but after realizing how much time I spent on social media, taking 10 minutes out of that felt super easy! I could read at lunch or right before seminary started.
“After I had read the scriptures, I was a lot more aware of what I looked at on social media. If I stumbled across something bad, with bad language or a negative message, I noticed it and tried to avoid it way more than before. I also noticed that my prayers were a lot more sincere and that I was receiving more answers to them. This is definitely something that I hope to continue for a lot longer!”
Izzie J., 16, California, USA

After several unsuccessful visits and discussions with the missionaries, I came to recognize the fact that the Church was true, but I had a problem: The Book of Mormon. I did not accept the idea that there was another scripture besides the Bible that would testify of Christ. I had a keen interest in reading and my supposed broad knowledge of the Bible and other philosophical books did not facilitate my discussions with missionaries.
Finally, I began to read the Book of Mormon. At first, I read it just out of curiosity, but once I started, I could not find the strength to stop. After a full reading in a month, I began to feel something deep inside me, a warm feeling in my heart, a light in my mind, a transformation, a voice.
At night, I could not close my eyes because my mind was revealed about the sacredness of the Book of Mormon. I was baptized in February 2010. As a result, I served a full-time mission and married Prisca Ebi, a lovely daughter of our Heavenly Father!