Gospel Story Finder

A mother of a child with a disability says, “My nature is to be optimistic and act as though I am in control. But I have one friend I can be honest with, and I have found it therapeutic to occasionally cry and let out my feelings.”

Later in my life, I was preparing to leave college and I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do. I went to a meeting where information was given on several different kinds of work. I got excited about printing and decided that I wanted to be a printer. I made an application and was offered a position with a printing company. I had a vision in my mind of being in charge of a big printing press.
On the first day of work, I was delighted when the supervisor took me to a very large machine that was printing in two colors. I thought he was going to say to me, “This is your machine.” I didn’t realize how much training I would need to perform that responsibility. The supervisor assigned me to work with the man in charge of that machine, which I did for six months. All I did that six months was move the paper to be printed on into the machine.
After that, I was put on another machine, and I worked with somebody else. Then I was assigned to a third machine, which was a handfed machine. That means that I “fed” each sheet of paper into the machine by hand. I could do that because by that time I had learned to handle paper well.
A few weeks later, the supervisor came up to me and said, “We feel that you have come to the point where you can be in charge of this machine.”
I was excited. This machine put glazing on the labels that were used for a very popular product in the United Kingdom.
The supervisor said to me, “Before I leave you in charge, you need to spend a little while longer developing your skill. There are a few more things that you need to know.” He stood by me while I was feeding paper into this machine and said, “There is one special thing you need to know—you need to listen for a particular sound. It’s sort of a clicking sound.”
The noise of the machine running with its gears rolling, along with the noise of twenty-five other machines, made it difficult to distinguish sounds, but I confidently said, “Yes, I hear that.” I thought that I was hearing what he was describing.
He said, “That’s all you need to know. As long as you can recognize that, you’ll be fine.”
He left, and I fed the paper into the machine for forty-five minutes. Suddenly the machine came to a grinding halt, making an incredible noise. All sorts of parts were knocking together. The other workers came running to see what had happened.
My supervisor came back and said, “Did you hear the sound?”
I said, “I thought I did.”
He said, “Let’s clean the machine up.” There was paper on the rollers and the cogs, and it took us about thirty minutes to clean up the machine. When he turned the machine on, he said, “Listen, there’s a sort of clicking sound. That’s the best way I can describe it. Can you hear it?”
I listened and just heard all the same noises that I’d heard before, but I said, “Yes.”
He said, “Fine.”
About thirty minutes later, the same thing happened. The supervisor said to me, “You can clean the machine by yourself this time.”
It took me over an hour to clean the paper off the rollers and out of the cogs and get the machine ready to run.
The supervisor came back and stood beside me and asked again, “Can you hear the clicking sound?”
Suddenly, above all the other sounds, I heard a sound that I hadn’t heard before, and the best way I could describe it was that it was a sort of clicking sound. The supervisor explained to me that the sound was made when the paper separated from the printing plate. The sound was determined by the consistency of the gloss that was glazing the paper.
If that sound changed, it meant that the gloss was getting too thick and too tacky. And when that happened, the paper would jam up in the grippers, causing a big pileup of paper that stopped the machine. Once I discovered that sound, I could fix the consistency of the gloss, and my machine never stopped again unless I myself turned it off.

Once a month the young adults of the Poole Stake and the young asylum seekers from the Bournemouth area, along with students that attend the weekly English Connect Classes, meet to share a meal and to spend a couple of hours playing board games and socialising. This gives the students an opportunity to practise their English away from a classroom setting. The event is known as YIP - The Youth Integration Programme, and involves members of the charity Unity in Vision, Westbourne Rotary Club, and The Poole Stake. On Sunday 17th March 2024, instead of the normal YIP event, we hosted a special evening for the students and the families of refugees that we regularly serve with.
Mrs Rita El-Gazali, Chair of Unity in Vision welcomed everyone to the Iftar and thanked all those who had supported the event by providing the food, drink and venue.
Following the welcome, a young 14-year-old asylum seeker, Saad Zia, gave the call to prayer and for all in attendance it was a very touching moment. For our Muslim friends that wished to give their personal prayers, they were invited to go to a separate room that had been set up appropriately with prayer mats facing Qibla (Mecca).
As is the tradition, the Iftar started with dates and water for all to enjoy, followed by a wonderful meal made up of dishes from Syria, Sudan, Egypt, Iran, India, and Great Britain.
The evening included members of the Muslim, Jewish and Christian faiths, and we had representatives from the countries of Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Egypt, England, France, Iran, Morocco, Sudan and Syria.
There was a lovely spirit of unity and friendship between all, even during the clearing up at the end of the evening where everyone joined in to help, where the laughter and chatting continued.
We all left the evening feeling very uplifted and strengthened by being unified in all that we have in common, in all that we share as children of God.

1. In my home up above, such a short time ago,
I prepared for a mission on earth.
Such a faraway land, what a strange, foreign place,
was I ready for my chance at birth?
There would be trials ahead, time for learning and growth.
I’d experience sadness and pain.
“Dear Father,” I cried, “will you stay by my side?”
Then lovingly came this refrain:
Chorus
“Child, I will always be near you
to watch you and guide you back home.
I know of your fears, your heartaches and tears,
but with me you are never alone.
At times the way won’t be easy.
You’ll see many choice souls go astray.
But be patient and strong, and I’ll help you along,
for I’m only a prayer away.”

Besides helping her overcome challenges, Haylee knows that Heavenly Father protects her. “One time my mom and I went hiking in Kodachrome State Park,” she says, “but as we started up the trail, I didn’t feel good about it. I asked my mom if we should turn back, and she didn’t think so. I asked if we could say a prayer, so we did.” A few minutes later, they heard a strange rattling noise. Haylee had nearly stepped on a coiled rattlesnake! She knew that Heavenly Father had answered her prayer.

Please notice the Lord’s pattern of providing spiritual knowledge in the following statement by President Joseph F. Smith:
“When I as a boy first started out in the ministry, I would frequently go out and ask the Lord to show me some marvelous thing, in order that I might receive a testimony. But the Lord withheld marvels from me, and showed me the truth, line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little, until he made me to know the truth from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and until doubt and fear had been absolutely purged from me. He did not have to send an angel from the heavens to do this, nor did he have to speak with the trump of an archangel. By the whisperings of the still small voice of the Spirit of the living God, he gave to me the testimony I possess. And by this principle and power he will give to all the children of men a knowledge of the truth that will stay with them, and it will make them to know the truth, as God knows it, and to do the will of the Father as Christ does it. And no amount of marvelous manifestations will ever accomplish this. It is obedience, humility, and submission to the requirements of heaven and to the order established in the kingdom of God upon the earth, that will establish men in the truth” (Gospel Doctrine, 11th ed. [1959], 7).
It is interesting to note how as a young man President Smith expected a big answer quickly and all at one time. Ultimately, however, he received many small answers over an extended period of time, and thereby his testimony grew ever stronger.

While in the hospital, Peter had a lot of time to think about what to do. He still had a long, painful time ahead of him before he could be released from the hospital. It was during this time that several good friends helped him learn about setting goals and controlling attitude. One in particular was from his ward, Brother Lawrence Oburn. He came to see Peter often and was always encouraging him to set a goal. At first, Peter didn’t want to try. Brother Oburn insisted by saying, “It’s what is on the inside that counts, not the outside.”
I remember how angry I got. I said very sarcastically “Okay, why don’t you get burned and you come here.” I could hear him crying although it was muffled by the bandages around my head. As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t because he had done so much for me. He said, “Peter, if I could, I would.” This was when I realized that this man truly loved me, like a son. That was when I determined to do everything he asked.
They decided on a goal. Peter would count the stitches he had during each surgery. The doctors and nurses asked to be allowed to stop counting just before they reached 2,000.
Peter set another goal—to count his shots. He quit counting at 1,252. He set a third goal—to be the most enthusiastic patient in the hospital. Even though he was often angry at the world, Peter tried to keep his goal. When he left the hospital, the staff presented him with a plaque naming him the most enthusiastic patient in their care.

Sister Zoe Campbell, 24 years old, is the first young-adult sister in Scotland to undertake a service mission for the Church. She was set apart by her stake president, Lee Mcleman, in June 2021.
Sister Campbell will be serving in Aberdeen for the next 18 months.
She will be busy working with the local nuns, cooking food each week for those in the city who struggle with poverty. She is also involved with the Care Hub in Aberdeen, which works with the homeless providing food, clothing, and cooked meals. She is also signed up to work with the British Heart Foundation in its charity shop.
Zoe is not a teaching missionary but, by her example, she is teaching how to serve as Christ served, reaching out to those who need a little help. She looks forward to the wonderful opportunities for her 18-month mission to be filled with service in the City of Aberdeen.

About four years later, however, some missionaries knocked on my door. I was so happy to see them. While they were out working, they had listened to the Spirit, which led them to my house. I’m so grateful they were obedient. I was baptized and confirmed soon afterward.

While in school, I met my husband, and we were married in 2007. My mother also joined the Church that year. She told me that she had never known why I was so happy, even with all the terrible things that had happened to us. But once she joined the Church, she understood. The gospel of Jesus Christ has blessed my family, and I’m happy to see my mother blessed after all the sacrifices she has made. I will always be grateful for her.

With her permission, I would like to share part of a sweet letter I received from Sister Linda Seamon of the Flagstaff Arizona Stake.

“We are a young family. My husband and I are 33. We have three small children. This is a busy ‘family time’ for us in our lives. For months, Diana, our ward genealogy person, would call us on a regular basis to ask if there was anything she could do to help us get started on our family history.

“We of course thanked her for the call, but firmly replied that ‘Aunt Leona, Cousin Nellie, and Aunt Bertha have done all there is to do on our families.’ Then, intrigued by an article in the Ensign about the new 8½-by-11 forms for family history, I mentioned this to Diana and a week later she was at my door with the forms! I took a look and thought how neat it would be to fill in the forms with our own names in the blanks. This simple experience of a loving, persistent family history representative was what got us started.

“We both come from Mormon families several generations back. We thought the ordinance work for our ancestors had been completed. We were wrong! In the short months we have been collecting copies of family group records, we have had so many experiences that confirmed to us the Lord’s hand in this work: 44 baptisms, 45 endowments, 29 children sealed to parents, 16 marriage sealings. All of these from records that were supposedly ‘all done.’

“Words cannot express the joy we have felt in the temple performing ordinances for our ancestors. Family relationships, some estranged since childhood, have been healed. Our extended families have also become involved. We have sent names to five different temples so that we could be united in helping to complete the temple work.

“We believe that it takes just one temple experience for one’s ancestors to convince a person of the importance of this work. It is possible to become involved in this exciting work at any age. We’re committed to it!”

Wong Yun Tai remembers the warm September evening in 1984 when her life changed. The Wong family live on the 21st floor of the Wu Yuet House, a government housing project in the Tuen Mun area of Hong Kong’s New Territories. That evening, 15-year-old Wong Yun Tai, who goes by the English name Belle, was eating dinner when a knock came at her door. Two strangers wearing white shirts, ties, and curious black name tags were at the door. They talked to her through the metal gate that remained locked even though the door was open.
Belle was busy eating, so she told her two visitors to come back in an hour. “I was interested in religion, and I really wanted to know what was true. I was just like Joseph Smith. I really wanted to know which church was God’s true church,” recalls Belle.
When the missionaries returned, she listened politely to their message. Afterward, they gave her a Book of Mormon to read, said a prayer, and then left. It was a simple meeting, but it had a powerful effect on Belle. “When I prayed, I had a very unique, good feeling in my heart,” she says.
A month later, Belle was baptized. Then the real work began. Belle, the second oldest child of Wong Hong Tsuen and Wong Leung Nan Ho, wanted her parents and brothers and sisters to experience the same gospel joy that had become such an important part of her life. She began sharing what she had learned.
Now, more than a decade later, she’s still sharing. Since those humble beginnings, seven of the eight Wong children have joined the Church, as have Mom and Dad. Belle served a mission in Hong Kong. So did two younger sisters, Angela and May.

It is this last point I would like to enlarge upon. I had the honor recently of being assigned to visit the Samoa Apia Mission and attend some stake conferences in that country. I found the missionaries all well and the work progressing. One afternoon following our meeting, the mission president, Patrick Peters—who is a native Samoan—said, “Elder Dunn, there is something I’d like to show you.” We drove a few miles from the mission home and climbed the brow of a small hill to a place that was isolated by palm trees and other tropical vegetation. I suddenly realized that we were in a very old graveyard. At the center of this graveyard was a plot that was surrounded by a cement wall low enough to step over. President and Sister Peters told me this was where some of the first missionaries in Samoa were buried. There were eight graves.

The thing that struck my interest was that out of the eight graves, four represented children under the age of two and one was a twenty-one-year-old wife and mother. What role could these have possibly played in missionary work in Samoa?

During the next two days, when time would permit, I searched the history of the mission for an answer. While I was unable to gather information on all of the eight, I did discover the following.

About 10 years ago, I was assigned to minister to a man living in our ward by the name of Carl (name has been changed). Carl’s name had been on our ward list for many years, but nobody seemed to know anything about him. I vividly remember the first time I knocked on his front door. Carl answered my knock but was not at all happy to see me. I told him I was a member of his ward and had stopped by to see him. His response was a very stern and angry, “Get out of here!”
I could tell by the way Carl slurred his speech that he had been drinking alcohol. As I departed from his doorstep with my knees somewhat shaking, a thought came to me: “I wonder if Carl was so drunk that he won’t even remember this visit if I knock on his door again next month.” Several weeks later, I did knock on his door and received a similar response, again with the smell of alcohol on his breath. He was not happy to see me and once again shouted at me to leave. Nevertheless, I was determined to befriend him and was committed to trying again.
My third attempt was dramatically different from my first two attempts. When I knocked, Carl quickly answered the door. This time, he had not been drinking. I was prepared for the worst, but before I could say anything, Carl offered me a warm greeting. He invited me to come into his home and have a seat. He was very friendly and so happy to see me.
Our regular visits continued for the next six years until he moved to another state. We had a standing appointment to meet on the first Sunday of each month. He never forgot when I was coming and was always eager to meet with me.
Carl, his wife, and their children had joined the Church about 35 years earlier. He was in his young 30s at the time. After being a member of the Church for only one and a half years, he was called to the stake high council, where he happily served for a couple of years. Carl loved to tell me stories about his life and how grateful he was to have joined the Church. One of his sons had served a mission. Several grandchildren had attended Brigham Young University. Unfortunately, his relationship with his wife soured, and they eventually went their separate ways. Carl was so embarrassed about his marriage that he did not feel worthy to continue attending church. He still maintained contact with the full-time missionaries who taught his family the gospel, but he hadn’t had a visit from another Church member in his home in over 30 years.
The more I got to know Carl, the more I enjoyed getting to know him. He had so many stories about life and the gospel that he wanted to share. He shared his testimony with me time and again. I could tell that Carl had a strong testimony of the restored gospel. He began to regularly invite the full-time missionaries to dinner in his home. In spite of our growing friendship, he was still unwilling to attend church, though he did watch sacrament meeting every Sunday on BYUtv. During our visits, he would relate what he had learned from the broadcast that day.
Carl had a deep respect for his Church leaders. The thought came to me that I should invite our stake president to attend a ministering visit with me so that I could introduce him to Carl. When I told Carl that our stake president would be joining our next visit, he was overjoyed! I will never forget the visit. Carl and our stake president chatted nonstop for 30 minutes. It turns out that our stake president’s mission president was Carl’s first bishop. The ward Carl belonged to when he first joined the Church was the ward that our stake president grew up in. I counted over 20 people who were members of the Church that they both knew, loved, and respected. It was truly a marvelous visit. Prior to our departure, we invited Carl to attend church. Carl accepted our invitation and was beaming from ear to ear when he attended church the following Sunday.
Sadly, Carl moved to another state two weeks later. When I called him at his new home, he told me that the first person he called when he arrived was his new bishop. He requested a home teacher (now ministering brother) and asked if he could feed the missionaries. Carl recently passed away, but I am so grateful that I was able to become his friend. My life is richer and fuller because of him.

Youth are not the only ones who slip into crevasses.
A stake president recently told me that a respected member who had held Church leadership positions was enticed by some business friends to try the cocaine drug “crack.” The men were depressed. Their company was failing, and they succumbed to the evil enticement of illegal drugs.
He wasted $18,000 buying “crack,” lost his job, underwent a personality change, and finally was hospitalized. Through it all, his wife stayed by him. She found a job, and they began the struggle of putting his life back together. His Church friends helped him get another job.
His mind is seriously affected. He is still somewhat dependent on some drugs. The hope and prayer of his family is that he will be able to hold on to the lifeline.

1978: President Kimball’s revelation on the priesthood is presented for acceptance by the Church in general conference.

His success as a counselor comes from his faith in people. “If you don’t have faith in people, they won’t change for the better,” he says. Elder Ashton experienced this principle in his own young life. “When I was in junior high school, I was not getting the best grades in geometry. My teacher said, ‘I’m not going to tolerate this when I know what your potential is. You can do better, and I’m not going to let you do worse than you really can.’ “Elder Ashton recalls, “That was a turning point, not only in that class, but in my life, because I knew that that teacher believed in me. The best bishops I ever had were the ones who believed in me enough to give me something extra to do—just working around the churchyard as a deacon was enough.”

One day as my children approached their teenage years I sat in the temple and prayed, “Father, I am willing to sacrifice anything thou wilt ask of me if thou wilt bless my children and lead them back into thy presence.” It was one of the most sincere prayers I have ever offered. I would be willing to suffer any pain if I knew that my suffering was producing in my children the qualities of godliness. I believe most parents understand this desire. It is not unique to me.

Today, Moroni statues are made in different sizes for different temples. The entire process takes three to four months, and the completed statue will weigh about 118 kilograms and stand 4 meters high, including its ball base.
This same construction process, except for the gold leafing, is used to make the oxen that support the baptismal fonts in the temples.
First, a wooden profile is cut out and positioned. The profile holds up the framework of the statue.
A substance is applied to the profile to make the framework. This gives shape to the sculpture and supports the heavy clay that will be added.
The sculptor then applies the first layer of clay.
A second layer of clay is added, and the sculptor begins to shape the muscles and to carve details in the rough clay.
A final layer of clay forms the statue’s draping, or clothing.
Creating the statue layer by layer makes it look more lifelike. Close to a thousand pounds of clay are required to model each statue.
A worker makes the cast or mold and places seams in the clay so the mold can be taken apart easily.
Another worker sprays polyester resin over the clay to make the mold.
After the mold hardens, it is pulled apart at the seams.
The clay is scraped out of the molds, which are then filled with the fiberglass to make a hollow casting of the statue.
The final casting is then covered with two extremely thin layers of gold leaf. (One layer will last about twenty years.)

As I drove to work through our neighborhood in Puyallup, Washington, I began to notice a young girl among a group of children waiting for the school bus.
Washington is well blessed with rainfall, and there were many cold, wet mornings when the kids would huddle together. But I could always count on her to ignore the elements and come up with a big smile and wave as I passed the bus stop.
The young girl was tall and slim and about 13 years old. She wore a mouthful of braces and I could see them glisten in the glare of my car lights.
Somehow her little effort to be friendly helped me get my day started right and became something I looked forward to.
I told my wife about the little friend I had, and how without fail she would always be there with that sweet smile and friendly wave. We didn’t know who she was, but she seemed to be an outstanding young girl.
It wasn’t very long after this that our own 13-year-old daughter, Cheryl, asked if she could go to an activity that a local church was having. She called it MIA. She was going with a neighbor girl, Vicki, and promised us that there would be parental supervision.
Cheryl began to attend MIA regularly, and after a few occasions she told us that Vicki was a Mormon. Cheryl also said Vicki was my friend from the bus stop.
Discovering that Vicki was a Mormon gave us a good feeling. I was aware of the reputation the Mormons had of being a good and family-oriented people.
A short time later Cheryl came home from school and relayed a message from Vicki. She was sending two young men over, missionaries, to tell us about her church.
“Tell Vicki that I have been waiting for 30 years to know what a Mormon is,” I told my daughter.
The elders arrived and we heard about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith. I will never forget when those young men bore their testimonies of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith being a true prophet of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Over the next few weeks we began to read and were soon captivated by the new scriptures.
I finally met Vicki—she was at church our first time and was in the audience, smiling, when the three members of my family were baptized. We moved away from that part of the state soon after and have not seen Vicki since. I recently heard she is married now and has a family of her own.
Through her actions and those of the young people we have known since, my wife and I are thoroughly convinced that the greatest potential for missionary work lies in the youth of the Church. We have served as stake missionaries and have served a full-time mission in Pennsylvania, and each time have relied upon the referrals and good example the youth have supplied.
We will never forget Vicki and will be forever grateful to her.