Gospel Story Finder

In Italy there is a majestic sculpture of Moses with a crack on one of the knees. A tour guide may say that Michelangelo, viewing the masterpiece, hurled a chisel at the sculpture and exclaimed in disdain, “Why doesn’t it speak?”

As women, we can gather our little chickens under our wings with love and tenderness. Recently I watched a young mother talk to her two-year-old child. When she was crying and the mother couldn’t understand what she wanted, the mother said, “Don’t cry. Use your words. Tell me what’s bothering you.” She had shown such respect for this two-year-old baby that the baby stopped crying and “used her words.” This young mother is learning how to nurture.

The End of the Beginning: Being the Adventures of a Small Snail (and an Even Smaller Ant), by Avi. Join the adventure as Avon the snail and Edward the ant set out to find a happy life. Along the way they meet new friends (a caterpillar, a cricket, and a salamander, to name a few), and discover things about the world as well as themselves.

I grew up with the same friends for the first 12 years of my life. We were neighbors. We went to the same schools and attended each other’s birthday parties. I sometimes ate at their homes, they came to mine, and we had fun together. But when we became teenagers, things began to change. They were not members of the Church, and they swore, they smoked, and they drank alcohol. They had a completely different view of the law of chastity than I did.
I thought about the problem carefully, and then I talked to my father about what to do. He said, “You have to decide. These good friends are different from you. Before you couldn’t tell, but now there’s a very big difference.”
I trusted my father’s counsel. My friends knew I was a member of the Church, so when I decided not to always go everywhere they went, they understood. Eventually, we spent less and less time together even though we were still friendly.
It was a trial for me to leave my friends, but I knew that it was important to maintain the principles of the gospel in my life. I thought about Alma’s counsel to his sons when he taught them to have faith in God. He said, “Whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials” (Alma 36:3).
One of the things that helped me get through this hard time was going every week to Church activities, including Mutual. I also kept myself busy with dancing, sports, and youth conferences.

I would encourage them to study conference talks and scriptures about the temple, ask questions, and be open about their concerns. The Rome Italy Temple open house video also clarified a lot for me. I watched it after I received my endowment.
Johanna A., 21, Austria

On Sunday afternoon Elder Clayton began by saying he felt impressed to completely change his talk. The Spirit told him he needed to speak to a family present that day. I immediately sensed that he would be speaking to our family. He told of a stake president whose wife was diagnosed with cancer. After much prayer and fasting by family members, friends, and members of her stake, she had fully recovered.

Since my wife and I didn’t believe in the dole system in any form of finance, we kept wondering how our young family could begin to become self-sufficient. It wasn’t long until we were offered an opportunity to collate and distribute advertising materials to 5,000 homes. We worked at the project after school, in the evenings, and on Saturdays. Everyone was involved in collating several pieces of advertising materials. Mom or dad assisted by driving the children to different locations and offering encouragement. The project was repeated several times. Our children were beginning to earn money, and we learned that we could have fun together while working.

President Hunter has always had a special love for the Holy Land. The First Presidency assigned President Hunter to spearhead two special projects in Israel. One was to work with Elder LeGrand Richards in raising money to build the Orson Hyde Memorial Garden, which was dedicated in 1979. The other was to negotiate for a site for a center to house the Brigham Young University semester-abroad program, which had started ten years earlier. Sites in Jerusalem were at a premium, and when at last a choice one was found and a lease obtained, the representative of the land authority received the lease payment and said, “This is a lot of money.” Joseph Kokia, the Church’s distinguished Israeli attorney, responded, “Yes, it is a lot of money, but my family has lived in Jerusalem for fifteen generations, and the property that you have is beyond price.” Upon that special site the magnificent Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies was built, despite much opposition. President Hunter’s close personal relationship with Mayor Teddy Kollek and other leaders helped make possible the building of the center. President Hunter dedicated the Jerusalem Center on 16 May 1989.

“I recorded when I went to the sesquicentennial ball, and how exciting it was to see the Apostles and other General Authorities there. Just having a whole bunch of Mormons together was great.”
—Melanie Jorgensen, Newark Second Ward, Fremont California Stake

I’m grateful for the example of a father who, as a busy executive of a great supermarket chain, still found the time to demonstrate by his concern that groceries were less important than his boy.

Like many young men, I once had a paper route; and I had to get up early in the morning to deliver them. One morning I woke up and looked outdoors to see one of those torrential Arkansas downpours. I thought we were in for another flood! As I prepared to go out in that rain, my father came into the room dressed in his business suit. “Get in the car, Paul,” he said. “I’ll drive you around your route this morning.” This meant that he would have to go without his own breakfast.

On that morning, in addition to the heavy rain, the papers came late. By the time we had them delivered, it was considerably past the hour that my father had to be to work. And on this particular morning he had scheduled a very important board meeting.

He arrived at the meeting late, walked into the board room, and announced, “I’m sorry I’m late, gentlemen, but I had to deliver my papers this morning.”

Do you think that there was ever any doubt in my mind as to my father’s greatest concern? Interestingly, I don’t recall too many lessons my parents verbally taught, but their example is still a part of me till this day.

“Do any of you know about a new family down on that block by the river?” Bishop Barton asked. “They are new converts from Brazil, and I think the oldest boy should be old enough for Scouts.” The cold air of the bishop’s office kept me, the Scout leader, awake.
“John,” said the bishop. The slumbering deacons quorum president raised his head, showing red lines where the heater he was using for a pillow had left a mark. “Glad to see you again,” observed the bishop, laughing. “I need you to get with Brother Wood and Brother Tolson and go see who this boy is and invite him to Scout meeting.”
“Okay,” John said. But I feared the assignment would turn into one of those we’ll-get-around-to-it kind of things that somehow never happens.
“Maybe you’ll need an address.” The bishop was already writing it out. “His name is Rurik Janiszewski.”
That is how we came to stand before a dilapidated door at the Janiszewski home one night.
“Guess they aren’t home,” John said after one timid attempt at knocking. Brother Wood, John, and I turned to go, but I saw a small face at the window. It quickly disappeared. The door then opened slowly, and a little girl in pajamas stood there among a pile of newspapers.
“Missionero?” she asked. Brother Wood broke into his mission Portuguese, and they talked for a few minutes. Then the door closed.
“She said something about everybody delivering newspapers,” he said. We looked in the carport and saw stacks of thick papers. Right then a beat-up minivan pulled up, and a smiling man emerged from the car. Inside the house a woman said a few things and a cascade of children hurried about, grabbing papers. I could tell that the subject of the bishop’s query was the big kid who looked at me suspiciously from the dimly lit house.
Brother Wood explained the purpose of our visit and then spoke to me. “They are new to the Church; he’s never heard of Scouts,” he said. Somehow we got the point across.
I’d like to say it was easy for Rurik in the Scout troop, but it wasn’t. His English was pretty good, but his winter camping skills weren’t. He was often late, and he sometimes missed our meetings. Unfortunately, some guys teased him about his lack of preparation and camping gear. Despite this, he kept coming and earned a few merit badges.
One day after a troop meeting, Rurik’s dad approached me, seeming a little nervous.
“Would you like to earn some money?” he asked, catching me off guard. He explained in broken English that he did a newspaper route and that he had a problem that he could only take care of by leaving with his family for two weeks. I said something noncommittal, as it was still a few weeks away.
He called again, however, and after some persistence on his part I reluctantly accepted and quickly enlisted a few Scouts in the effort. We decided to go out a couple of times and learn the route. I was unprepared for what we saw.
As I watched that little family scurrying about, dodging traffic to deliver 300 newspapers all over town in the hardest places while negotiating lots of stairs, I was humbled to realize this was how they made a living.
I called the newspaper supervisor, who in a gruff way explained that the Janiszewskis would lose the route if they didn’t obtain a substitute. That was pretty motivational to our effort. The Scouts battled and struggled, and lots of people came to help. It nearly turned into a ward project, and we were really dragging by the end of two weeks. I realized what a sacrifice it had been for Rurik to come on trips and to meetings held during times when he was delivering papers. That’s when I decided in the future we would wait even if Rurik was late to troop activities.
I knew how my perspective had changed, and the Scouts’ reactions didn’t disappoint when Rurik returned from his trip.
“Rurik, how do you do that whole paper route every night?” asked Jason. “Even when it rains?” questioned Kevin. Rurik nodded, flashing a rare smile, basking in his new popularity with the troop.
“Every day,” he said. “Why do you think I come to campouts? I don’t have to do the papers then.” There was a newfound respect for Rurik and his family. It was obvious we had come to love them when the troop refused Brother Janiszewski’s attempt to pay us.
Rurik and his family moved back to Brazil not long after that. Rurik asked for some pictures of our snow camps and igloos, as he was sure no one in Brazil would believe what he had experienced.
We hope he won’t forget us, for we will never forget how much we learned from a thing as simple as a paper route.

As a convert to the Church in Malaysia, a country where there are few Christians, I sometimes found it hard to stand up for my beliefs. One day in December, my boss told me that our company would be having an anniversary party at the end of the year that I was expected to attend. I was worried and didn’t want to go because drinking alcohol at parties is part of our company culture. I also knew that my co-workers would try to force me to drink.
But my manager was firm that I should attend. I wondered how I would be able to overcome this challenge.
Later, a co-worker stopped me and asked, “Why don’t you want to come to the party?” I told him that because of my religious beliefs, I don’t drink alcohol.
He replied angrily, “You should worry about the world you live in now, not another world that may not even exist. Do you want to make money or give it up for your stupid beliefs?” When he asked me this, I felt afraid. I knew if I did not drink at the party, I might lose my job. Then suddenly a scripture came into my mind: “I, even I, am he that comforteth you: who art thou, that thou shouldest be afraid of a man that shall die, and of the son of man which shall be made as grass; and forgettest the Lord thy maker, that hath stretched forth the heavens, and laid the foundations of the earth?” (Isaiah 51:12–13).
Immediately I knew that I should fear God, not my co-workers or my boss. I also realized that my purpose on earth is not to earn money but to grow spiritually. So I answered my co-worker, “I will choose my belief, and you should respect it.”
A few weeks later I quit my job. On my last day of work, I had a good conversation with my co-workers. I explained how The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is different from other churches. I told them about my beliefs and my desire to keep the commandments.
About a week later I got another job that pays better than the job I left. My new job also gives me time to prepare to serve a full-time mission.
This experience not only taught me that keeping the commandments will enable me to return to Heavenly Father someday, but it gave me the confidence that no matter what challenges I face every day, the Lord will prepare the way for me (see 1 Nephi 3:7).

Among the news items of recent date was the report of a burglary, some incidents of which are unusual in the literature of crime. The safety-vault of a wholesale house dealing in jewelry and gems was the object of the attack. From the care and skill with which the two robbers had lain their plans, it was evident that they were adept in their nefarious business.
They contrived to secrete themselves within the building and were locked in when the heavily barred doors were closed for the night. They knew that the great vault of steel and masonry was of the best construction and of the kind guaranteed as burglar-proof; they knew also that it contained treasure of enormous value; and they relied for success on their patience, persistency, and craft, which had been developed through many previous, though lesser, exploits in safe-breaking. Their equipment was complete, comprising of drills, saws, and other tools, tempered to penetrate even the hardened steel of the massive door, through which alone entrance to the vault could be effected. Armed guards were stationed in the corridors of the establishment, and the approaches to the strong room were diligently watched.
Through the long night the thieves labored, drilling and sawing around the lock, whose complicated mechanism could not be manipulated even by one familiar with the combination, before the hour for which the time-control had been set. They had calculated that by persistent work they would have time during the night to break open the safe and secure such of the valuables as they could carry; then they would trust to luck, daring, or force to make their escape. They would not hesitate to kill if they were opposed. Though the difficulties of the undertaking were greater than expected, the skilled criminals succeeded with tools and explosives in reaching the interior of the lock; then they threw back the bolts and forced open the ponderous doors.
What saw they within? Drawers filled with gems, trays of diamonds, rubies, and pearls, think you? Such and more they had confidently expected to find and to secure; but instead they encountered an inner safe, with a door heavier and more resistant than the first, fitted with a mechanical lock of more intricate construction than that at which they had worked so strenuously. The metal of the second door was of such superior quality as to splinter their finely tempered tools; try as they would they could not so much as scratch it. Their misdirected energy was wasted; frustrated were all their infamous plans.

My parents had been within those very walls, though they weren’t able to frequent them as often as they would like to. They first went to the temple together a year after they were married. It was difficult because even though they knew they couldn’t afford to go, they knew they couldn’t afford not to either. It was always emphasized in our home to go to the temple as soon as we could and to make temple marriage our goal. My parents also showed me how important and sacred their covenants were. They taught me that they received many blessings from keeping their covenants, and because of their example, I decided that was something that I wanted too. Throughout the years, I kept reminding myself to “always keep the temple within my sights,”1 even though the nearest temple was far away.

Elder Fyans recalled another story, related to him by his daughter, Kathy, regarding her son, Robbie: “Recently Robbie came home later than usual from school. The principal had called his mother to tell her that her son had been detained at school that day. She asked the principal what the problem was and was told that Robbie would tell her about it when he got home. When Robbie came home, he went straight to his room, and his mother decided to just wait for a while to see if he would come and talk to her. After some time, when Robbie still hadn’t come out of his room, she decided to see if he were all right. He said that he was.

“Later that evening Robbie admitted to his mother that he and a friend had thrown some wet paper towels at the ceiling of the rest room at school and they had stuck there. The custodian took the boys to see the principal, and that was why Robbie had been late.

“‘What do the letters CTR stand for on the ring you’re wearing?’ his mother asked Robbie. ‘Choose the Right,’ he told her. She then asked him if he thought that throwing wet towels on the ceiling had been a right choice. He said, ‘No.’ A discussion followed about what kind of punishment he should receive for his misbehavior, besides the fact that he had been kept late at school. Robbie thought it over for a while and then told her that he felt he should be grounded for a week. After thinking it over a little longer, he decided that maybe he should also pay for the towels that had been wasted. The sum of one dollar was decided upon as a fair amount. Robbie wondered if he should take the money out of his missionary bank. However, his mother explained to him that payment had to come out of his spending money to make it right.

“The next morning Robbie and his mother took his dollar and went to school together. Robbie apologized, not only to the principal, but also to the custodian. Even though it was difficult for him to do, Robbie made the decision to repent as fully as he could for what he had done. He was able to ‘choose the right’ and make it right.”

I was seven years old when my foster sister, Patty Lou, came to live with us. My younger brother and sister and I were anxious for this new baby. Mom and Dad said that she needed a new family. We knew about foster children—they were newborn babies our neighbors brought home until a good family adopted them. We were excited to be a foster family, too.
But the baby our parents brought home was not what we expected. For one thing, this baby was nine months old, a lot bigger than a newborn. She had brown hair and big, dark eyes, but she never smiled. And even though she was old enough to sit up and crawl, she couldn’t do either one—she could only lie there and stare at us.
We three kids stared at her, too. Patty had a large red birthmark on her face that covered half of her cheek, nose, and lip. I had a birthmark on my leg, a light brown one, but Patty’s was different and it was hard not to stare at it.
Mom explained, “Even though Patty is still a baby, she has had a rough start already. We don’t know why, but her family neglected her and left her alone in her crib for many hours every day. They didn’t play with her or hold her or love her. As long as she lives with us, we are going to take care of her and show her lots and lots of love. I think that’s what she needs, don’t you?”
Overnight, our lives changed. The old crib that was gathering dust in the garage was put up in my brother’s bedroom, and suddenly there were bottles and diapers and baby toys all over the house.
At first, Patty just watched us with her pretty dark eyes, but it wasn’t long before she smiled for the first time. She started to coo and kick her legs, and soon she could sit up, propped up by piles of pillows and one of us sitting close enough to catch her if she toppled over.
I loved to entertain her in sacrament meeting with little toys and games. Other times, my brother and sister and I made funny faces to make her laugh. We were quickly learning to love our little foster baby.
I soon noticed how people stared at Patty in stores or restaurants. I didn’t like it, especially when someone was mean to her. I had learned in Primary that we should love everybody, no matter what they looked like on the outside. I had angry feelings inside, but my Primary teacher told us a story about Jesus and some people who had a disease called leprosy. Even though other people were mean to the lepers and called them names, Jesus loved them and blessed them. I knew that He loved Patty, too, and I tried to be kinder to everyone.
One day, I saw my parents looking at the newspaper and talking about Patty. They showed me that there was a picture of Patty in the paper, along with a little story that told about Patty’s need to be adopted. I read, “Patty is looking for a real family who will love her and take care of her.”
I noticed that Dad was very quiet and Mom had tears in her eyes. Patty had lived with us for almost a year, and it was hard to think of her going to live with anyone else.
Not long after that day, Mom dressed Patty in her prettiest outfit and put a ribbon in her brown hair. She told us, “There is a young couple who want to come and see Patty and take her on an outing to the zoo. They might want to adopt her, so I want everyone on their best behavior.”
I felt hot tears sting my eyes, and I ran to the bedroom I shared with my sister. I didn’t want to see the people who might take Patty away. I couldn’t pretend that I was happy that she might be adopted. I cried long and hard. By the time I came out of my room, Patty was on her way to the zoo.
Our family seemed to walk on tiptoe in the days that followed. We knew the adoption agency would call to let us know what this young couple had decided, and we jumped every time the phone rang. Finally one night the call came. The look of relief on my father’s face was clear—Patty was staying.
I bundled Patty up and put her in the stroller. While she waved her hands at all the neighbors, I pushed her happily around the block. I didn’t even mind when a group of kids pointed their fingers at her birthmark and started to laugh. I stopped the stroller and gave her a big hug. I was so happy, I thought I would burst!
Patty was our one and only foster baby. We put in our own application to adopt her, and she soon became an official part of our family. We changed her name to Patricia Lin and waited for the day we could go to the temple as a family to be sealed to her forever.
I remember waiting in the children’s room that wonderful day in the St. George Utah Temple, all four of us dressed in sparkling white. A temple worker came to take us to the sealing room at the top of a long staircase. As we entered the beautiful room and saw our parents and grandparents gathered around the sacred altar, little Patty called out, “Hi, Grandpa!” I remember how the Spirit flooded our hearts and made us all cry tears of joy. Patty was now part of our eternal family, just as if she had been born to our parents. We were a “real” family at last!

Hey, everyone,
Well, I only have three weeks left on my mission. Time goes so fast. I love being here and teaching all the different people about Jesus Christ. This city has people from so many different nations. It’s wonderful to think that we are all Heavenly Father’s children. Many people have come here to see the big symbol of freedom across the river, but people who have accepted the gospel get an even better appreciation for the freedom our Heavenly Father gives us.

“I recorded how I felt when the priesthood was opened to the blacks. I remember the day it was announced on the radio. I was with some Mormon friends, and we just started shouting, we were so happy.”
—Ruth Fellows, Ygnacio Valley Ward, Concord California Stake

Most of us recognize that God speaks to all His children in their own language. We have likely seen how He communicates with us in our language and how He communicates with others in their own language. This is especially noticeable if we have had the opportunity to live in a country other than our own. I initially became aware of this principle as a young missionary when my first companion and I taught the gospel of Jesus Christ in standard Italian, a language that was not our native tongue.

During our time together in Lugano, Switzerland, my companion and I found and taught a family from Sicily, Italy. We spoke Italian, but the family spoke Sicilian, which is distinct enough from standard Italian that it is considered a separate language. The local branch members spoke a different variation of Italian that is even less well-known: Swiss Italian. Yet the branch members used their native Swiss Italian to help us fellowship and teach this young family.

Despite the differences between standard Italian, Swiss Italian, and Sicilian, the Lord spoke to and through each of us by the Holy Ghost, according to our language and understanding. Eventually, this young family entered the waters of baptism and were confirmed members of the Church.

“How long is it until my birthday?” Jonathan asked Mother one cold, snowy day when he couldn’t go outside to play.
“Four months,” Mother said. “Why?”
“Oh, I just wondered. How long is it until Susan’s birthday?”
“Don’t you remember? Susan’s birthday was just last month,” Mother said. “It will be eleven months before she has another one.”
“Oh,” Jonathan said. “Christmas was last month too.” He sighed as he walked down the hall. More than anything, he liked times like Christmas and birthdays.
“I like getting presents,” Jonathan told his dog, Wags, when he got to his room. “I like giving presents too. I wish today was Christmas or a birthday so we could have presents.”
Suddenly Jonathan realized that he hadn’t asked Mother about her birthday or Dad’s. He ran back to the kitchen.
“No,” said Mother, looking up from the big pot of soup she was stirring. “Neither Dad nor I have one today. Why do you keep asking about birthdays?”
“Oh, I just like them.” Jonathan trudged back to his room. He opened the bottom drawer of his dresser, where he kept his special treasures. “If it was Mother’s birthday,” he told Wags, “I could make her a crayon print with these leaves I saved. Mother liked the crayon print I made her at kindergarten. She liked it a lot.
“If it was Dad’s birthday,” he told Wags, “I could give him this nice block of wood I found in the park last week. Dad’s always looking for wood that he can carve into animals.
“If it was Susan’s birthday,” he told Wags, “I could give her five of my best marbles. They would look very pretty at the bottom of her fish tank.”
Jonathan gave a deep, big sigh. “Oh, Wags,” he said, “I do wish it was someone’s birthday, or Christmas, or any day at all when I could give a present!”
Then he smiled, “Maybe, just maybe, today is a day when I can give presents. He grinned a big grin. “Yes, it is!” he told Wags. Then he went to work.
First, he put his pretty leaves under a sheet of paper. Carefully he rubbed across the paper with red and yellow and orange crayons.
Next, he took out the block of wood and wiped it with tissue paper so that it would be nice and clean for Dad to carve.
Finally, he counted out five of his prettiest marbles.
“It’s time for dinner,” Mother called.
Jonathan carried his presents to the dinner table and placed them beside the right plates.
“Presents for everyone!” he exclaimed when Dad and Mother and Susan sat down.
“But it isn’t our birthdays,” said Mother. “I told you that.”
“And it isn’t Christmas,” Susan and Dad said at the same time.
“No, it isn’t a birthday or Christmas,” Jonathan said. “It’s another special day I thought of—it’s today! And I decided that today was the best day for giving ‘just because I like you’ presents!”
“What a lovely idea,” Mother said. “As soon as we’ve eaten, I’ll hang up this picture where we can all enjoy it.”
Dad said, “This block of wood is just the kind I like for carving.”
Susan said, “The marbles are really pretty. Thank you, Jonathan.”
Jonathan was smiling from ear to ear. He had more treasures in his bottom drawer, and lots of friends he could give presents to on another “just because I like you” day.