Gospel Story Finder

As you remember, the Willie and Martin companies ran into early snows in Wyoming, and many of the Saints perished in the cold. While on a trek a few years ago retracing their footsteps, my family and I stood looking down at the Sweetwater area where the Willie company had been stranded, cold and starving. We read from their journals of their severe trials and the joy of their rescue. John Chislett wrote:

“Just as the sun was sinking beautifully behind the distant hills, … several covered wagons … were seen coming towards us. The news ran through the camp like wildfire. … Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their furrowed and sun-burnt cheeks. …

“… That evening, for the first time in quite a period, the songs of Zion were to be heard in the camp. … With the cravings of hunger satisfied, and with hearts filled with gratitude to God and our good brethren, we all united in prayer, and then retired to rest.”9

Brother Camargo met his wife, Patricia, while his father presided over the Brazil Rio de Janeiro Mission in the late 1970s. The couple married on January 4, 1980, about a year after Brother Camargo returned home from serving as a full-time missionary in the Portugal Lisbon Mission. They have three children.

Chester Chipmunk’s Thanksgiving, written by Barbara Williams and illustrated by Kay Chorao, is about a chipmunk that tries to make the Thanksgiving holiday a happy one for others. What happens to Chester and some of his animal friends makes a delightful story. Exceptional illustrations add much to the text. (E. P. Dutton)

Thabo and Andronica also wanted to help their children understand the implications of this new assignment on their family. In a February 2017 interview, Thabo relates, “As you know in the first chapters of the Book of Mormon, Lehi is instructed to take his family and move into the wilderness and to take nothing save it were the essentials. It is interesting that we were able to use the story of Lehi and his family to help explain to our children what the Lord was going to do here with our family. We were now connecting two families—Lehi’s and ours—together. We helped our children understand that this was becoming real in their lives, ‘Wow, you know that Nephi says we must use the scriptures and liken them to ourselves and so we painted that picture for them.’”

Amelia and Pierce C., ages 3 and 5, Virginia, USA, stood and raised their hands to sustain our new prophet, President Russell M. Nelson. The Saturday morning session was called a “solemn assembly.” Everyone in the Church, starting with the First Presidency, got to sustain our leaders.

A couple of years ago as Sister Dickson and I arrived at the Provo Missionary Training Center to speak with the missionaries, the MTC president asked if I would tie my tie for the missionaries to help them understand that they could handle the challenges that come with missionary service. I considered his request and adjusted my talk to cover some of what has been mentioned in this article.
As I was about to conclude, I invited four missionaries in the front to come forward for a little race at tie tying. One asked if they should use just their left hand, but I suggested they would need both hands. As you can imagine, the missionaries were quite excited when I won.

Dr. Cline: Well, first of all I’d be delighted that he’d ask my opinion! In fact, I’d like to suggest something here. Wouldn’t it be a good idea if you—all Latter-day Saint youth, for that matter—could respect and love your parents sufficiently to ask their thoughts about a film you might want to see, especially the more controversial movies, because of your awareness of the confusing values these movies might relate about life?

In this instance, as I said, I’d be delighted that he or she would ask, as would your parents be. Then I might say, “Let’s go together and see it; then we’ll talk about it afterwards.” It would provide a marvelous opportunity for us to talk and get our values straight. Certainly we wouldn’t want to see everything that comes out. After a while, I’d hope, he’d come to learn that the very advertisements themselves are often good clues as to the type of values the movie will relay. Then we could begin to learn how to discriminate and to discover other kinds of activities than the latest movies—activities that would hold more likelihood of being productive and worthwhile experiences.

Reassurance from others is an important step towards faith. For example, there is the comfort given by parents to children afraid of the dark, or a wife to a husband about to change his place of work. I remember during my Royal Air Force service in India and Burma during World War II, one of our colleagues was always imagining a twisted stick to be a snake. We had to reassure him on numerous occasions to allay his fears. As Theseus remarked in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, “Or in the night, imagining some fear, how easy is a bush supposed a bear” (act 5, sc. 1, lines 21–22).

During one of my most challenging transfers as a missionary in Rwanda, I remember I recorded everything I was feeling at the time in my journal and I concluded my entry with this statement, “I did not come this far to only come this far”—Tom Brady.1
As I have remembered this distant and seemingly small memory of my mission, I have realised that I have actually unknowingly continued the application of that statement in many aspects of my life.

I was asked a lot of questions by friends and family when I decided to receive my temple endowment:
Are things getting serious in your relationship?
Is this a wedding announcement?
Are you even allowed to receive your endowment if you’re not getting married or serving a mission?
Although I did have a boyfriend at the time and I’d seriously considered a mission, my decision to go to the temple had nothing to do with those things and everything to do with the fact that I felt inspired to more fully accept the Lord’s invitation to “take hold of my covenant” (Isaiah 56:4). It was a sacred, personal decision, and one that I truly felt was right.
Soon after receiving my endowment, the COVID-19 pandemic hit, and temples shut down. I was so grateful for the covenants I’d made and the greater understanding I’d gained in the temple, and I knew that my desire to go was inspired. Although your prompting might not have anything to do with a worldwide disaster, the Lord knows when you will need the sustaining power of covenants. He knows when He will need you in His “holy mountain,” so that He can “make [you] joyful in [His] house of prayer” (Isaiah 56:7).

I really love the New Era. It’s a really great magazine and spiritual too. In my school (Church College of Western Samoa), we have devotionals for our religion classes. When it’s my turn to give a spiritual thought, I get an article or story from the New Era and read it to the class. The Spirit is always strong.

Sometimes when our young women are without ideas for Mutual, I turn to the New Era for the Mutual tips on p. 49. Thank you for all the good articles and stories. They help me try to act the way Christ did.Urshla Adam, Pesega Third Ward, Pesega Samoa Stake

On Faith and Endurance
When the barn burned and we lost our cattle, some said, “I can’t believe you were able to get through it.” We said we couldn’t do it any other way than how we did. We just worried about keeping the Sabbath and getting over the pain. We believed that God was watching over us and blessing us.

For Laysa, the most important way she turns her sights to heaven is through regular prayer and scripture study.

For example, while she was preparing for the university entrance exam, “the first thing I did was to pray and read the scriptures beforehand,” she says. “I could see the Lord helping me to learn, to be more concentrated.”

Wangu, of the Kibuyu tribe, liked the hot dust of the road squeezing up between his brown toes. The African plain around him was spotted with many colored flowers, showing against the yellow grasses waving in the gentle breeze. Nandi flame trees flashed in the glaring sunshine. Wangu felt happy. He was sure something good was going to happen to him. Already he had found his bwana’s (white-man boss’s) lost cow and now he could see the tops of the huts in his shamba (village).
Wangu turned to pull on the lead rope to make the cow walk faster, and then he saw the bicycle. It was in the ditch beside the road and almost covered with thorn bushes. Wangu jumped into the ditch and with his panga (machete-like knife) he chopped the thorn bushes away. Then he dragged the bicycle up to the road.
It was a very old bicycle. Both its wheels were dented and it had many broken spokes. Its chain was stiff with rust. Some bwana threw it away a long time ago, he thought, but it was a bicycle and to own a bicycle was something Wangu had dreamed about.
Wangu had trouble leading the cow and carrying the bicycle, but he struggled on. A little farther along the road he stepped off into the grass, walking toward his shamba. He heard the neighing of an unseen zebra and the roar of simba (lion) a long distance away. The sounds did not disturb Wangu because he was thinking deeply about his four sons. They were a year or two apart in age, starting at age nine. He thought how much each boy would like a bicycle.
When Wangu entered the village his oldest son was the first to greet him. “What will you do with the broken bicycle, Father?” he asked.
His other three sons quickly gathered around him as he answered. “I will make it whole again so that it will be useful.”
“It is a beautiful bicycle,” his nine-year-old son said wistfully.
“I will make it even more beautiful,” Wangu promised, putting the broken bicycle in his thingira, a special hut where his wife could not enter. Then he took the cow to its place among his employer’s cattle.
Wangu began work on the bicycle by taking it apart. For help in understanding how to do it and to borrow tools, he went to the nearby mission.
Each month Wangu took part of the shillingi (English money) his bwana paid him for the work he did, and walked the seven miles to the ducca (general store) and bought new parts for the bicycle.
Repairing the bicycle was slow work, but for Wangu it was a work of joy. As he worked, his thoughts kept wandering to the worth of his four sons. He thought of how proud he was of them and of how fine and helpful they were to him.
Just before he finished working on the bicycle, he decided that his sons deserved to have it. But he couldn’t give it to all of them. Wangu knew that if he did that, the bicycle would cause many quarrels. He must give it to just one boy. He wondered how he could do that without hurting the feelings of the others.
Wangu painted the bicycle red and yellow; and while he waited for the paint to dry, he tried hard to think of a way to give it to just one of his sons. The answer came to him the night before he would take the bicycle out of his thingira and show it to all the people in the village.
The next morning Wangu wheeled the sparkling, newly painted bicycle out onto the hard-packed dirt in the center of the circle of beehive-shaped huts made out of wattle and mud. The people came running from all directions, shouting words of praise for the bicycle. Wangu waited for quiet and until his sons stood in front of him. As he looked at them he thought of how well they cared for his sheep and goats.
“It is my wish to give this bicycle to one of my sons, and I have found a way to do it fairly,” Wangu announced. “The people at the mission have taught us to write our names and some of the white man’s words.” Then he spoke directly to his sons. “Go and get a calabash (clay bowl shaped like a gourd), four pieces of paper, and a pencil.”
The boys left in an excited rush. Wangu waited, beaming under the admiration of the people. He waited until he became impatient. It seemed that his sons were taking much too long. When they finally arrived on the run he frowned at them.
“You will each write your name on a piece of paper, fold it so the name cannot be seen, and drop it into the calabash,” he told them. “Then I will lift out a name and whoever owns the name owns the bicycle.”
When this was done Wangu took the calabash and shook it. He pulled a paper from it. Wangu was the name written on the paper.
“This is the wrong name,” he said gruffly.
With his fingers in the calabash he stirred the papers around. Then he quickly took another one and unfolded it slowly. Wangu was also written on that paper. In a fast movement he grabbed the remaining two papers in the calabash and on each one was written the name Wangu.
All his sons had wanted him to have the bicycle. Tears filled Wangu’s eyes and his heart seemed almost to burst with the great love he felt for his sons.

One night a friend of another faith visited me. I usually study my scriptures alone, and I had taken them out to study that night. I was prompted to invite her to join my scripture study, but I was afraid and began instead to study alone. I knew that I had ignored a prompting of the Spirit. After a few minutes I cautiously asked, “Would you like to study the scriptures with me?” Without hesitation my friend replied, “Yes.”
We then read from the Book of Mormon. She asked me some questions, and I could feel the Spirit guide me as I answered. I bore my testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. After I did this, she told me, “I have been crying and fearful all day. I had just prayed to God for help when you asked me to read the scriptures with you. I feel so much better now. Thank you.”
The Lord had used me as an instrument to answer a prayer and serve one of His children in need. I know that promptings are divine instructions from a wise, glorious Father. When we put aside our fears, we allow Him to manifest His power through our obedience.

I received my New Era subscription last year from a roommate at a dance camp. Each issue served to prod me to learn more about the LDS church and was also a reminder of a friend who had such strong faith in herself and her religion. In every issue of the New Era I have found either an answer to a question or else some other fact I didn’t know about the Church. I was baptized into the Church at the end of last summer and want to thank you for a publication that helped me so much. After being a member of two other faiths, I have found great joy in belonging to His Church and knowing the true and full gospel.
Cindy OvermanAlbuquerque, New Mexico

President Thomas S. Monson tells of a Sunday School teacher from his youth, Lucy Gertsch. One Sunday, partway through a lesson about selfless service, Sister Gertsch invited her students to give their class party fund to the family of one of their classmates whose mother had passed away. President Monson said that in giving that invitation to action, Sister Gertsch had “closed the manual and opened our eyes and our ears and our hearts to the glory of God” (“Examples of Great Teachers” [worldwide leadership training meeting, Feb. 10, 2007], Liahona, June 2007, 76; Ensign, June 2007, 108). Sister Gertsch had clearly used the manual to prepare her lesson, but when inspiration came, she closed the manual and invited her students to live the gospel principle she was teaching.

The new home was just about ready for the Smith family in October, 1825, when Joseph went to work in Harmony, Pennsylvania. It was there he met Emma Hale, oldest daughter of Isaac and Elizabeth Hale. The tilt of her head and her sweet singing voice entranced Joseph. Unexpectedly he found himself more lighthearted than he had been for some time.
Their friendship deepened into love. A sweet peace filled Joseph. “You know how lonely I have been since Alvin died,” he confided to his parents. “Emma has lifted that loneliness. She is my choice above all others.”
Father Smith put his arm around Joseph’s shoulder. “We are happy for you, Joseph!” he exclaimed sincerely.
“You must bring her here to live in our new home with us,” Lucy added warmly.
They were married in January, 1827, a little over a year from their first meeting, and the year in which Joseph would receive the record. Their life together was to be one of great contrasts—Emma, with her gentle dignity and bewitching dark eyes, and Joseph, tall like his father, with his compelling blue eyes enfolding her in warmth and tenderness.
It was a proud Joseph who took his bride home to his family. The pathway to the big house was swept of snow and the window panes sparkled in the bright winter sunshine. Inside, every chair and table and floor was scrubbed and shining, and savory smells hinted at delicious food prepared and waiting.
“She sure has pretty hair,” approved William as Father and Mother Smith opened their arms in welcome. The rest followed with affectionate hugs and handclasps while little Lucy, now over five years old, curtsied shyly. In response, Emma flashed a smile of appreciation to each one. The family circle widened to include Emma in its love and concern.

Another young married woman, concerned about religion, had lived in New York for years, but she had never gotten around to seeing the pageant until this year. When Samuel the Lamanite called out the destruction of the City of Zarahemla with thunder, lightning, and fire to back him, this sister, in her ninth month, felt great conviction within herself. She had her child that night, and the missionaries came in response to the referral card she had filled out. Had she not gone that night before she had the child, she feels she might never have seen the missionaries. Coincidence? Those who have been at pageant know that there are very few coincidences attached to it.

My brain was exhausted! I had read one page in my history book three times without remembering one word. It was well after midnight when I rubbed my burning eyes and slammed the book shut. I wanted to do well on my final test, but the time had come to give up studying because nothing was getting into my throbbing head.
I set my history book down and, almost out of habit, picked up a different book of history. The cover of my Book of Mormon felt soothing as I opened it to Alma and started my nightly reading. I was not expecting to learn anything in this frame of mind, but to my complete surprise my pounding headache ceased and I felt a warm, comforting peace envelop my body.
My mind was calm and alert. The words were clear and easy to understand. It was as though my kind Heavenly Father were speaking directly to me.