Gospel Story Finder

Dylan watched Mom pack her suitcase for her vacation with Dad.
“Tomorrow’s the big day,” she said. “I bet you can’t wait for all the fun things you get to do with Grandma and Grandpa!”
Dylan gave a little laugh. “Yup!” Mom and Dad had been planning their trip for a long time, and he knew they were really excited.
But why did he feel so nervous?
Dylan walked to his bedroom down the hall.
“What’s going on?” he said to his empty room. “Why do I feel like this?” He flopped down on his bed to think. He remembered when he’d first heard about Mom and Dad’s trip. He’d been a little disappointed that he wasn’t going with them.
But then he found out he’d be staying with Grandma and Grandpa. He loved their house! There was the huge old tree in their backyard. Perfect for climbing. There was a closet of games that they loved playing with him. Not to mention Grandma’s famous cookies!
But for some reason, Dylan wasn’t excited anymore. He couldn’t stop picturing the moment when his parents would drive away. They would be so far away for an entire week! What if he wanted to talk with them but they couldn’t answer the phone? What if they forgot about him? He’d never been away from them this long before.
Dylan decided it was time to pray. He slid off his bed onto his knees. He told Heavenly Father all the things he was worried about. “Please help me to feel happy about the trip and to stop feeling so scared,” he prayed.
He felt a little better as he climbed back into bed. He knew Heavenly Father had heard his prayer, but how would He help? Did Heavenly Father even understand what it was like to feel homesick? Then Dylan thought about how Heavenly Father sent all His children to earth. It must be hard to send them away for so long—and so far away too. Maybe Heavenly Father did understand. Maybe Heavenly Father missed him!
Dylan started to feel warm inside. The Holy Ghost was telling him that Heavenly Father loved him very much. He thought about Grandpa and Grandma. He imagined the big hugs they’d give him. That made him smile. He kept imagining those hugs as he fell asleep.
The next morning Dylan felt a little better when he woke up. Something smelled good in the kitchen. Sure enough, Dad had cooked a huge stack of pancakes!
“Those look yummy,” Dylan said.
“Hey, Grandma and Grandpa aren’t the only ones who can make an amazing breakfast!” Dad said with a laugh.
Dylan grinned. He’d almost forgotten about Grandpa’s smiley-faced chocolate-chip pancakes. He didn’t say it out loud, but Dylan liked those pancakes even better than Dad’s. He couldn’t wait to have them again.
The rest of the morning zoomed by. Dylan helped carry the suitcases out to the car. He put on his backpack and double-checked that he had his favorite books.
Pretty soon they were pulling up to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Grandma waved from the front porch.
“Dylan!” Grandpa called out from the doorway.
Dylan jumped out of the car and ran to them. Grandma and Grandpa gave him the biggest, longest hug in the universe. Thank you, Heavenly Father, he prayed silently. Thank you for helping me not feel so afraid. Maybe a week wouldn’t be too long after all.

I remember a cold winter evening as I was on radio car patrol on the east side of Salt Lake. Suddenly the silence was broken by the beep, beep, beep of an emergency radio call. “Car 16,” came the dispatcher’s voice. “Such and such an address, 9–40.” Nine-forty was a police code meaning unknown trouble. It might be a cat in a tree, family fight, lost child, or even a homicide. Calls like this were always tense because you just didn’t know what to expect.
I arrived at the address, an old two-story home surrounded by a rickety picket fence. I made my way toward the front porch along a broken and weed-choked sidewalk. The paint was peeling off the house, and it looked like it could have been the scene for a good Halloween movie. I knocked on the door, and as I did, it came partially ajar. There was no sound. I pushed the door open a little wider and cautiously poked my head inside. “Hello. Did anyone here call the police?” No answer. I opened the door wider and stepped inside.
I found myself in a small vestibule, no more than four feet square. It was nearly dark inside and smelled of a strange and musty odor. To my left was a narrow and steep stairway going to the second floor. “Hello,” I called again. “Is anybody there?” This time I heard a sound. It wasn’t much of a sound, just a quiet sound like a sob. The beam of my flashlight cut through the gloom as I pointed it up the stairway toward the sound.
There, huddled miserably on the bare wooden stair, was a young girl. She was barefoot and poorly dressed, with long, straggly hair. Her eyes were red, and I could see she had been crying hard. Her breath came in gasps, and I inquired again concerning the call for help. “Did you call the police?” All she could do was sob and point through the open doorway at the top of the stairs.
I made my way past the girl and entered into a scene of true desolation and tragedy. The room was small. No carpet covered the bare wooden floor. It was littered with the obvious signs of drugs and alcohol. Empty beer cans were strewn about, and evidence of marijuana was everywhere. Lying in the center of the floor was a young man. A dark pool of blood surrounded his head, and near his lifeless fingers lay a small, shiny revolver. I was heartsick as I called for assistance and began the investigation of a terrible tragedy.
I share this experience to emphasize again the fickle nature of the friends that Satan might send to tempt you to take part in such parties as these. We learned from our investigation that there had been 20 to 30 young people at the party. The gun was a plaything, and a game of Russian roulette seemed exciting to those using drugs and alcohol. No one expected to be hurt, yet tragedy struck and a young man’s life was lost. No friends stayed behind to help. No friends even did anything to comfort the one who did stay—the sister of the poor dead boy.

When Thierry was called to serve a mission in the Cote D’Ivoire Abidjan Mission he had never read the Book of Mormon. His bishop encouraged him to read it cover to cover before commencing his mission. For three months, Thierry went every day to his ward building to read, ponder and pray about the Book of Mormon. This experience of daily study resulted in his taking into his mission a strong testimony of the book. He has said, “the greatest tool that we have to bring people to the light of the gospel and gather scattered Israel is the Book of Mormon.”
His mission was profoundly impactful on his life. French is the principal language of the DRC and of Cote D’Ivoire. Thierry had multiple English-speaking companions. His mission president counseled him to take time every day to learn English from his companions. Thierry obediently added English language study to his gospel study and proselyting. His English and French language proficiency has blessed many.

Doodling cartoons on his math and spelling tests at school may not have earned Val Chadwick Bagley higher scores, but his teachers probably had a blast grading his papers.
“I’ve always wanted to be a cartoonist,” Val says. He would draw every chance he could. On his mission, for example, he kept a regular journal and four complete cartoon journals on top of that.
Elder Bagley serving as a missionary in Virginia, USA, in 1978.
While serving as a missionary in Virginia, Elder Bagley mailed in a cartoon to the New Era. The cartoon was picked up and printed in the March 1978 issue, exactly 40 years ago this month.
Val’s first cartoon sent to the New Era and published in 1978.
“In my mind, I had reached the big time!” Val says. He’d grown up reading and loving the New Era, especially the cartoons. Seeing a cartoon of his own in its pages was a dream come true.
Val has been a regular contributing cartoonist to the New Era ever since. If you’ve read “The Extra Smile” (now included in “Fun Stop”), you know his stuff. He’s also done loads of other projects in his cartooning career, including publishing over 100 books, games, and other items. Yet whenever somebody asks Val what he does for a living, he always has the same answer.
“I always tell them that drawing for the New Era is the pinnacle of my accomplishments.” (The New Era thinks you’re awesome too, Val!)
Published March 2003
Published Oct. 2004
It hasn’t been all fun and laughter, though. There have been some major setbacks along the way.
Val remembers hitting his own personal rock bottom. He’d been working for several years designing cheese and hot-dog labels for an advertisement company. Then that company went out of business. He’d attempted college four different times without finishing a single term. He was close to bankruptcy and running out of options. He didn’t know what to do next.
So he went to the temple for guidance. While there, he picked up the Book of Mormon and opened to Helaman 12:2. Val read about how the Lord prospered His people “in the increase of their fields, their flocks and their herds, and in gold, and in silver, and in all manner of precious things of every kind and art.” His eyes landed and stayed on the word art.
“It was an answer to prayer,” Val said. The next day, he launched his cartoon business. He’s been going strong ever since.
Published Feb. 1997
Published July 1996
Val believes we’re all given gifts and that “you get to decide what to do with your talents.” Artists can portray literally any subject under the sun. For Val, he chooses to use his time and energy strengthening others in the gospel with his cartoons. “I’ve especially enjoyed working on anything that has to do with the Book of Mormon.”
For the past 40 years, Val’s cartoons have made you laugh, lifted your spirits, and brightened your days one punchline at a time. And that’s been his goal all along.
“I feel so blessed and fortunate that I get to do this,” he says.

A boy named Stan related the following experience to me. One summer afternoon his younger brother was involved in an accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. Immediately after the accident, friends of both boys, as well as ward members, were very supportive and attentive. Within a few weeks, however, the visits and offers to help became fewer and fewer. Before long Stan, his brother, and other members of the family felt isolated because of the tragedy. A few short weeks were simply not enough time for them to come to terms with the new and difficult realities that confronted them individually and as a family. Continued support from caring friends would have been truly appreciated.

What do you love to do? I’ve always enjoyed playing sports. After trying different sports, I settled on American football. Through hard work and great coaching, I became an All-American quarterback in college. When I graduated, I joined the Houston Oilers professional football team.
I’ll never forget that first game. The other team’s defensive linemen were bigger than any I’d ever gone against. I was nervous! In my first big play, two huge players tackled me at the same time—harder than I’d ever been tackled before. My leg throbbed, my shoulder ached, and I wanted to quit right then. I had a decision to make. Would I give in to my fears, or would I have the courage to keep trying?
I couldn’t just give up, so I got up and played with all my might! Through courage and lots of teamwork, we won the game. I learned a lesson I’ve never forgotten: never quit when things get tough.

Dr. Heyerdahl—In very large measure that is true. You know, after we broke the huge oars, as big as telephone poles, that we used later on Ra II, I said to myself, There’s no way of making the big oars strong enough to resist the waves as long as the ropes are tied as we have them. We had huge ropes so strong that they would resist the sea; but they allowed the big oars to be broken. Suddenly I got an idea. How stupid! I said to myself. Suppose we were to use a weak rope at the bottom and a strong rope at the top, and then when great force was exerted, the smaller rope would break instead of the oars. We could then throw another rope around the bottom of the oar. It’s much easier to change rope than to mend a broken oar. When I returned and met the leading authority on Egyptian boat design, I said, “Look, this is a mistake. If I were to do it again, I would use a thin rope down below at water level and a thick rope at the top,” and I explained why. Then he said, “Oh, my heavens! Now I understand. On all the drawings of the ancient Egyptians I’ve noticed that they had a thick rope at the top and a thin one below. But I thought it was just the whim of the artist.”

Heavenly Father certainly sends us things when we need them most! I’ve just said good-bye to my boyfriend prior to his departure on a mission, and I was missing him very much and writing him very miserable letters. Then the December New Era arrived with “The Way to a Missionary’s Mailbox,” which uplifted me so much, and I’m sure that his mission will now be much more successful because of it. My nonmember family also realizes this.
Susan AyerChristchurch, New Zealand

We experienced one of those “only with time” blessings this past February when we attended the naming and blessing of a little Mongolian girl in our expanded missionary family. Her name is Tungalag. Her mother is Davaajargal. She’s a modern-day pioneer as the first woman to be baptized in Mongolia. Tungalag’s father, Sanchir, is an MBA student at BYU.

I knew Sanchir in Mongolia for some time before he became a member. It was only after one year and many, many discussions with dedicated missionaries that he was baptized. It is nothing short of a miracle that this young father, after only two years in the Church, could have uttered the words of this beautiful blessing which began, “Tungalag, I bless you that you will be a good human being.” I’ll never forget that beginning!

In this blessing he said things that he would not have known or even imagined before his baptism. Witnessing this blessing and realizing the extent to which the gospel has changed this young man and this family truly made this a missionary payday.

Our son Justin grew up with a difficult disease. Sometimes he was very weak. He couldn’t always do things like everyone else, even though he tried. He knew what it felt like to be different.
One day Justin and his friends got together to play a game. They had to hit a ball with their arms to keep it in the air. One of the girls who came to play had a broken arm.
It would have been easy to say, “OK, we’re all playing, and she’s just going to watch.”
But instead, Justin said, “I have a great idea. We’re all going to play with one arm.” Everybody played the game using just one arm, including the girl who was wearing a cast. No one was left out.
Justin is my hero. He always looked at other people and thought, How do they feel? Justin was sick for most of his life, but he was happy because he helped other people and followed Jesus Christ.

One of the most important times I had a prayer answered was with my whole family. A few months after my cousin Christian finished his mission, he was driving late at night on a mountain canyon road. He and another car crashed into each other. The other driver was fine, but my cousin was taken to the hospital by helicopter.
Christian had serious injuries all over his whole body. He went into a coma, and the doctors didn’t think he would wake up. Our family decided to fast. My parents, sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and all my cousins took turns fasting for Christian. I fasted on a school day. I had to explain to my teacher and classmates why I wasn’t eating lunch that day. I really didn’t mind going without food for a day because I was fasting for my cousin.
Heavenly Father answered our prayers, and Christian eventually woke up from his coma. He still doesn’t have his full abilities back, but he has made some progress. I know Christian has a long recovery ahead of him. We still pray for him. Anything is possible with Heavenly Father’s help.

I used to call our seven-year-old daughter my secret weapon. While I was serving as a bishop, I wanted to involve my children in my service. Bringing her with me to visit ward members not only allowed me to spend more time with her but also often opened doors that had been closed before. It’s hard to turn the bishop away when his adorable seven-year-old daughter is smiling at you. And as good as it was for our ward members, I believe it was also good for my little girl. Not only did she watch her dad love and serve others, but she learned at a young age that she could love and serve others as well—blessing her with joy at the same time.

The young men, 16 and older, in the Duchesne Utah Stake have had a tantalizing taste of what it feels like to be a missionary. They held a stake missionary conference, planned by their leaders and two youth cochairs, that attempted to include some aspects of a two-year mission experience into two days. Of course, the young men only got a sampling of what it will really be like to be on a mission, but the experience is one they won’t soon forget.
Nearly 50 would-be missionaries arrived on a Friday afternoon at the Duchesne missionary training center—a.k.a. the Duchesne stake center—in their suits, toting their luggage, with their parents in tow. After a short devotional the young men went through one door into the cultural hall and their parents exited another to head back home (a la MTC fashion).
In the cultural hall, the young men were greeted with dinner, missionary packets, and an assigned companion. Outfitted with name tags that read “Brother_______,” the companionships headed to their first training classes. The classes covered a whole range of topics from learning the first missionary discussion and mission rules, to how to sort laundry and pack a suitcase.
Their Saturday classes were not only preparing the young men for their missions but also for their teaching appointments later in the day. The companionships were assigned to teach the first discussion to families in their stake, some of which were part-member and less-active families.
Besides teaching the first discussion, the young men also did what every missionary spends a good deal of time doing: service. They spent all morning landscaping around a chapel, cleaning a section of highway, and beautifying the Duchesne River boardwalk. It was so hot many of the young men were tempted to jump into the river, but a quick check of their missionary handbooks told them swimming was against the rules.
They chose to obey mission rules, just as they are choosing to prepare themselves to go on full-time missions when they turn 19. They are working on their faith and obedience to the gospel. As future missionaries, they know that’s a top priority. Delaney Mecham of the First ward says, “We should all go on missions to bring people to the gospel and to help ourselves. When we’re on our missions our testimonies will grow even more than they have at this conference.”

Education: Whether formal or informal, it is important that we educate our minds and our hands. I know a wonderful sister who served in a stake Relief Society presidency a few years ago. She put her children through schooling, and in her more mature years, she decided to go back to complete high school. This now serves as a great example to her grandchildren on the importance of getting an education.

I used to have a hard time reading, and I was really self-conscious about it. I wouldn’t read in class because it was hard for me to sound out some of the words, and I was afraid to read out loud because the kids in school would tease me because I couldn’t understand what I was reading. It was hard for me to make friends, too, because my family moved around a lot. Then my family moved to Oregon, USA.
One of my new neighbors quickly became one of my best friends. He encouraged me to go to church. The guys there didn’t tease me like the kids in school did. They took it upon themselves during church to help me read the scriptures. They spent the time to help me learn to read the words I couldn’t sound out. Slowly, they gave me the courage to read out loud. From that day on I would read even if it would take half the class time for me to read what the teacher asked me to read.
I was blessed with these great guys who took me under their wings. They didn’t have to do this for me, and they could’ve stayed silent, but following the Spirit, they made a choice to help me and made a difference in my life. We too can make a difference in others’ lives; we just have to be willing to listen to the Spirit to guide us to those people who are in need of help.

Years ago I participated in the measurement of the nuclear characteristics of different materials. The process used an experimental nuclear reactor designed so that high energy particles streamed from a hole in the center of the reactor. These particles were directed into an experimental chamber where measurements were made. The high energy particles could not be seen, but they had to be carefully controlled to avoid harm to others. One day a janitor entered while we were experimenting. In a spirit of disgust he said, “You are all liars, pretending that you are doing something important, but you can’t fool me. I know that if you can’t see, hear, taste, smell, or touch it, it doesn’t exist.” That attitude ruled out the possibility of his learning that there is much of worth that can’t be identified by the five senses. Had that man been willing to open his mind to understand how the presence of nuclear particles is detected, he would have confirmed their existence. In like manner, never doubt the reality of faith. You will gather the fruits of faith as you follow the principles God has established for its use.

More Important Than a Grade
In the Philippines, I met Karen, who shared an experience she had as a Laurel while studying for a bachelor’s degree in hotel and restaurant management. A teacher required that every student learn to make and taste the variety of drinks that would be served in their restaurants. Some of the drinks contained alcohol, and Karen knew it was against the Lord’s commandments for her to taste them. In the face of serious consequences, Karen found courage to arise and shine forth, and she did not partake of the drinks.
Karen explained: “My teacher approached me and asked me why I was not drinking. He said, ‘Miss Karen, how will you know the flavor and pass this important subject if you do not at least taste the drinks?’ I told him that I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and as members, we do not drink things that are harmful to us. Whatever he expected of me, even if it meant receiving a failing grade, I would understand, but I would not fail to live my personal standards.”
Weeks passed, and nothing more was said about that day. At the end of the semester, Karen knew her final grade would reflect her refusal to taste the drinks. She hesitated to look at her grade, but when she did, she discovered that she had received the highest grade in the class.
She said: “I learned through this experience that God … will surely bless us when we follow Him. I also know that even if I had received a failing grade, I would not regret what I had done. I know that I will never fail in the Lord’s sight when I choose to do what I know to be the right thing.”
Ann M. Dibb, second counselor in the Young Women general presidency

Hiding behind Dad’s truck, I pulled ever so slightly on the rope that reached up over the tree branch above the garage door. The large bucket of water at the other end of the line jiggled as I pulled. I grinned. The trap was finally ready!
My big brother was so going to get it as soon as he came out of the garage. Kyle deserved it, too! This time his teasing had gone too far.
My little sister walked over to my hiding place again. “Come on, Megan. Let’s go play. Just forget about it,” she said.
“No way,” I told her. “I’m going to get even.” She didn’t understand. I had to do this.
“But I want to play on the swings,” she said. “Won’t you come with me?”
I shook my head. “Not until Kyle walks under my trap.”
My sister left. The sun rose higher. It was a perfect day to play outside. But this was important. I thought of all the rotten times my brother had teased me.
Banging and clanging sounds came from inside the garage. What was he doing in there?
I had to admit it was getting a little boring holding that rope. Especially on such a nice, sunny day. But I didn’t think about letting go for a second. The wait would be worth it when Kyle walked through the garage door and I dumped the big bucket of water on his head. I couldn’t wait to see his face! It would be the perfect payback.
A noise came from behind the garage door. My muscles tightened as I gripped the rope. I watched the door like a cat ready to pounce.
The lock clicked. The door swung open. I saw the edge of a tire and one of my brother’s sneakers. This was it! I yanked hard on the rope. The entire bucket of water tipped and poured all over Kyle. As the now-empty bucket dangled from the rope on the tree, I jumped up and hooted in excitement. Yes!
Then I noticed something that stopped my yell of excitement right in my throat. Kyle was pushing my bike. It had been broken for weeks. But now it was all ready to ride. I didn’t understand.
Kyle looked at me and said, “Um, I fixed your bike.”
I just stood there. As the water dripped off his face and off my bike, I didn’t feel at all like I expected to. My trap had worked perfectly, but I felt horrible.
The whole time I’d been waiting there, my big brother had been doing something nice for me. In fact, now that I thought about it, Kyle did nice things for me all the time.
“I’m sorry!” I said, still feeling awful. “I was … I mean, earlier today …”
He held up a hand and smiled. “It’s OK, Megan. I’m sorry too. That’s why I wanted to fix your bike.”
Kyle looked up at the bucket. “Nice trap,” he said. Then he laughed. “I never saw it coming.”
I couldn’t help but laugh with him. Suddenly I felt much better inside. My big brother had already forgiven me. Just like that! I realized I needed to learn how to do that too.
“Hey, want to ride bikes?” I asked.
Kyle nodded. “Sounds awesome. I’ll probably dry off faster that way.”
As we laughed again, I knew it was going to be a great day after all.

That could have happened to me. After graduating from college, I worked for a couple of years at a local nonprofit organization, where I was inspired by the skills of a new manager. I decided to pursue a master’s degree so that I could gain the kinds of skills he had.

Between the time I was accepted to the program and the time I was to attend, we learned that I was pregnant with our first child. Pregnancy is always a challenge, but due to some medical complications, pregnancies are particularly difficult for me. When I arrived to begin my master’s program, the heaviest question in my heart was whether I should be pursuing the degree at all. After all, I was now anticipating motherhood.

In my new ward, I was promptly called to be an assistant nursery leader. The counselor in the bishopric who set me apart for my new calling laid his hands upon my head and bestowed upon me all the usual authority, gifts, and admonitions attendant on a calling in nursery. Then, speaking to my most hidden fears and my deepest questions, he told me, in the name of Christ, to pursue and complete my master’s degree, that this was the will of God.

So I did.

Near the conclusion of my master’s degree, my husband received a good job offer in Washington, DC. I was preparing to be a stay-at-home mom to our then-one-year-old daughter. I felt unsettled by the move, and I wanted the confirmation of the Spirit to help soothe me. But the more I prayed, the more agitated I became. So my husband and I prayed, fasted, and attended the temple to seek guidance about whether or not to take the job.

The matter of our imminent move remained unresolved until the very last day of class in my master’s program. I felt a tremendous and unmistakable outpouring of the Spirit, and a clear, quiet, and calm voice spoke to my mind, telling me I would return for a PhD. I knew why I had been so uneasy about the move to Washington.

I didn’t tell my husband right away what my prompting had been—only that I’d had one and that I was at peace. We decided that when he had the same sense of peace, we could make a plan together based on our individual promptings.

Soon thereafter, he felt strongly that we should make a short-term move to Finland for an internship he had been offered. From Finland I applied for the doctoral program. In Finland my husband started his business.

I finished the doctoral program in about three years and soon found myself—most unexpectedly—on the full-time faculty at BYU. In addition to food, clothing, and shelter, our work has afforded us freedom, family time, fulfillment, challenges, and a great deal of happiness. We now have four children, and they are—individually and collectively—the central joy of my life. This was a future only God could see for me.

Unlike my friend who did not heed the direction to bail out, on another occasion one of my other fellow pilots did. He had made a mistake and glanced off the top of a mountain on a low-altitude bombing run. Although his F-4 Phantom II jet was destroyed, this pilot had pulled the yellow handle and bailed out while careening through the air, and he lived. Belief strong enough to apply his knowledge had saved this pilot.