Gospel Story Finder

The Jewel Box Ballerinas, by Monique de Varennes, illustrated by Ana Juan. Bibi has two of everything money can buy. She has two houses, two dogs, and even two big black limousines. But she doesn’t have even one friend. Then she buys a jewelry box with two very sad ballerinas in it. As Bibi tries to cheer up the ballerinas, find out what she discovers about true friends.

Jenneke loves Family History Bingo. She loves her oma, too, and was really happy when she came from Hamilton, New Zealand, to play the piano at Jenneke’s baptism. Because her grandma doesn’t live nearby, they don’t get to see each other very often.

I have learnt from my own experience that my weeks are better when I am focused on my Savior during the sacrament. It doesn’t necessarily mean that my weeks are better because I have fewer challenges and no moments of weakness. No, this is not the case, but I find myself wanting to pray more, wanting to feast upon the words of Christ more, wanting to serve, wanting to do and become more, so that I can overcome more through my Savior.

I still remember that day. It could have been the most terrible day of my life if I hadn’t had the gospel of Jesus Christ. It was July 12, 2001, when my mother died of an illness that had struck on Sunday night and took her life the following Thursday morning. I was 16 years old. I had to miss exams in school to be with my family and attend my mother’s funeral services.
I went home from the funeral feeling completely undone. I had a great hole in my heart, a hole so huge I thought it would never heal. I lay down on the bed, broke into sobs, and asked myself, “Why did she have to go so soon? Why did she have to leave me?”
My 10-year-old brother and I decided to listen to some quiet Church hymns. I had that lonely, sad, comfortless feeling, and then a warm sensation came over me. I felt great peace and tranquillity. My sad expression vanished, as did the empty feeling in my chest.
I was still feeling this comforting spirit when I went with my family to the church where my relatives were mourning. All of my relatives were very sad, with some breaking into heartrending sobs. Deep pain was reflected in their faces. They looked at my family strangely, as if they wondered why we didn’t seem to feel as bad as they did. But my heart was beating calmly, and my whole body was filled with peace. I knew that the Comforter, the Holy Ghost, was calming our pain. He was also testifying that Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father live and that this is the true Church, with eternal covenants.
Afterward, I wrote in my journal: “Our mother didn’t want us to cry very much. I do feel sad, but still I have a great peace inside. I just have to be strong and live a good life so I can see her again. My faith and testimony have grown, and so have my desires to serve my God and my fellow man on a full-time mission. She will always be there, helping me stay on the right path. I know that families can be forever. On a day like today 15 years ago, my family and I were sealed as an eternal family in the Lima Peru Temple, and this is what comforts me.”
My family and I continue to experience many difficulties. But each time my testimony falters, I remember the time when the Holy Ghost comforted me and testified to me of the eternal truths of the gospel.

When I was the Young Women class president, we started out with only five girls in the class. But then a new girl moved in, and we wanted to help her feel welcome and included.
I started out not knowing her that well, but I tried to be extra nice to her. After a while, the “extra nice” just became the normal amount of nice as she became my friend. I began to understand how God loves His children. I was able to feel that love for the girls in my class. Serving others helps me feel genuine love toward them.

Here is an experience that Sister Krull had.
Jonny, whose name has been changed for privacy purposes, was a local area Facebook referral.
We introduced ourselves and explained our purpose as missionaries. Over a few months we had the opportunity to share with him Jesus Christ’s restored gospel.
We helped to answer all his questions. He grew up with a Christian background but, like many others, noticed that not all we said was in the Bible; he eagerly accepted a copy of the Book of Mormon.
Jonny had a desire to learn more about God and to become a better version of himself. He agreed to be baptised at the beginning of 2021. His baptism, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, was limited in the number of people that could attend. Now, all of this sounds like a typical missionary story, but not so.
For some months, all we knew was the sound of Jonny’s voice over the phone call. We had never met him in person until the day of his baptism. Finally, we could put a face to the name we had been teaching.
I mention this because many people think that you can only feel the Spirit when you are face-to-face. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Once you are testifying of the Saviour Jesus Christ, the Spirit is there.
The fact that Jonny was baptised showed us that we weren’t the only ones to feel the presence of the Holy Ghost. All of this happened because of a Facebook advertisement that invited him to understand and to seek God.
This experience is a witness of how missionary work has continued to move forward despite the crazy times we are in.

Years later when my childhood dreams of a mission were realized, I was called far away to New Zealand. There I first met the Maori people who have brought so much into my life by their simplicity, sincerity, and great faith.
One of my first assignments was to a Maori village called Judea, where the missionaries were helping in the construction of a small chapel. At that time I was trying to learn the Maori language. Each day I prayed to our Heavenly Father for help. And then one day I was surprised to be surrounded by Primary children. My prayer for help with the new language had been heard, and our Heavenly Father had inspired the branch president to send these children to help me. They followed me everywhere I went for weeks, talking to me in Maori. Their first lesson I shall remember forever:
Hei tito tito te ngeru me te whiro
Te kau peke runga te marama
Ka kata te kuri ki tana mahi pai
Ka oma te rihi me to punu.
The words sounded beautiful, but they were meaningless to a new missionary. I thought I was learning an old Maori war chant. What a surprise to me when I found out the children were teaching me “Hey, diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon. …”
How grateful I shall always be to those children of New Zealand for the wonderful blessing they brought to their new missionary.

I recall a priesthood meeting held in the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City when I was a holder of the Aaronic Priesthood. The President of the Church was speaking to the priesthood, and he made a statement I have never forgotten. He said, in essence, that men who commit sexual sin or other sins do not do so in the twinkling of an eye. He emphasized that our actions are preceded by our thoughts, and when we commit sin, it is because we have first thought of committing that particular sin. Then the President declared that the way to avoid sin is to keep our thinking pure. The scripture tells us that as we think in our hearts, so are we.6 We must have the mark of virtue.

Let me close with one last, lengthy lesson on perseverance.
On July 28, 1847, four days after his arrival in that valley, Brigham Young stood upon the spot where now rises the magnificent Salt Lake Temple and exclaimed to his companions: “Here [we will build] the Temple of our God!” (James H. Anderson, “The Salt Lake Temple,” Contributor 14, no. 6, Apr. 1893: 243).
Its ground would cover an eighth of a square mile, and it would be built to stand through eternity. Who cared about the money or stone or timber or glass or gold they didn’t have? So what that only a handful of seeds had been planted and the Saints were yet without homes. Why worry that crickets would soon be coming? And so would the United States Army.
They just marched forth and broke ground for the most massive, permanent, inspiring edifice they could conceive. And they would spend 40 years of their lives to complete it.
The work seemed ill-fated from the start. The excavation for the basement required trenches 20 feet wide and 16 feet deep, much of it through solid gravel. Just digging for the foundation alone required 9,000 man-days of labor. Surely someone must have said, “We don’t need a temple this big.” But they kept on digging. Maybe they believed they were “laying the foundation of a great work.” In any case they worked on, “not weary in well-doing.”
And through it all Brigham Young had dreamed the dream and seen the vision. With the excavation complete and the cornerstone ceremony concluded, he said to the Saints assembled:
“I do not like to prophesy much, … But I will venture to guess that this day, and the work we have performed on it, will long be remembered by this people, and be sounded as with a trumpet’s voice throughout the world. …
“… five years ago last July I was here, and saw in the spirit the Temple. [I stood] not ten feet from where we have laid the chief corner stone. I have not inquired what kind of a Temple we should build. Why? Because it was [fully] represented before me” (Contributor, p. 257).
But as Brigham Young also said, “We never began to build [any] temple without the bells of hell beginning to ring” (Discourses of Brigham Young, sel. John A. Widtsoe, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1961, p. 40). No sooner was the foundation work finished than Albert Sidney Johnston and his United States troops set out for the Salt Lake Valley intent on war with “the Mormons.” In response President Young made elaborate plans to evacuate and, if necessary, destroy the entire city behind them. But what to do about the temple whose massive excavation was already completed and its 8-by-16-feet foundational walls firmly in place? They did the only thing they could do: they filled it all back in again. Every shovelful. All that soil and gravel that had been so painstakingly removed with those 9,000 man-days of labor was filled back in. When they finished, those acres looked like nothing more interesting than a field that had been plowed up and left unplanted.
When the Utah war threat had been removed, the Saints returned to their homes and painfully worked again at uncovering the foundation and removing the material from the excavated basement structure.
But then the apparent masochism of all this seemed most evident when not adobe or sandstone but massive granite boulders were selected for the basic construction material. And they were 20 miles away in Little Cottonwood Canyon. Furthermore, the precise design and dimensions of every one of the thousands of stones to be used in that massive structure had to be marked out individually in the architect’s office and shaped accordingly. This was a suffocatingly slow process. Just to put one layer of the 600 hand-sketched, individually squared and precisely cut stones around the building took nearly three years. That progress was so slow that virtually no one walking by the temple block could ever see any progress at all.
And, of course, getting the stone from mountain to city center was a nightmare. A canal on which to convey the stone was begun and a great deal of labor and money expended on it, but it was finally aborted. Other means were tried, but before the railroad came in the 1870s oxen proved to be the only viable means of transportation. In the 1860s always four and often six oxen in a team could be seen almost any working day of the year, toiling and tugging and struggling to pull from the quarry one or, at most, two monstrous blocks of granite of medium size.
During that time, as if the United States Army hadn’t been enough, the Saints had plenty of other interruptions. The arrival of the railroad pulled almost all of the working force off the temple for nearly three years, and twice grasshopper invasions sent the workers into full-time summer combat with the pests. By mid-1871, fully two decades and untold misery after it had begun, the walls of the temple were barely visible above ground. Far more visible was the teamsters’ route from Cottonwood, strewn with the wreckage of wagons—and dreams—unable to bear the load placed on them. The journals and histories of these teamsters are filled with accounts of broken axles, mud-mired animals, broken sprockets, and shattered hopes. I do not know if these men swore, but surely they might have been seen turning a rather steely eye toward heaven. But they believed and kept pulling. And through all of this President Young seemed in no hurry. “The Temple will be built as soon as we are prepared to use it,” he said (Contributor, p. 266). Indeed his vision was so lofty and his hope so broad that right in the middle of this staggering effort requiring virtually all that the Saints could seem to bear, he announced the construction of the St. George, Manti, and Logan temples.
“Can you accomplish this work, you Latter-day Saints of these several counties?” he asked. And then in his own inimitable way he answered. “Yes; that is a question I can answer readily. You are perfectly able to do it. The question is, have you the necessary faith? Have you sufficient of the Spirit of God in your hearts to say, yes, by the help of God our Father we will erect these buildings to His name? Go to now, with your might and with your means, and finish this Temple” (Contributor, p. 267).
So they squared their shoulders and stiffened their backs and went forward with their might. But when President Young died in 1877, the temple was still scarcely 20 feet above the ground. Ten years later, his successor, President John Taylor, and the temple’s original architect, Truman O. Angell, were dead as well. The side walls were just up to the square. And now the infamous Edmunds-Tucker Act had already been passed by Congress disincorporating The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One of the effects of this law was to put the Church into receivership whereby the U.S. Marshall, under a November court order, seized this temple the Saints had now spent just under 40 years of their lives dreaming of, working for, and praying fervently to enjoy. To all appearances, the still unfinished but increasingly magnificent structure was to be wrested at this last hour from its rightful owners and put into the hands of aliens and enemies, the very group who had often boasted that the Latter-day Saints would never be permitted to finish the building. It seemed those boasts were certain to be fulfilled. Schemes were immediately put forward to divert the intended use of the temple in ways that would desecrate its holy purpose and mock the staggering sacrifice of the Saints who had so faithfully tried to build it.
But God was with these modern children of Israel, as he always has been and always will be. The Red Sea parted before them, and they walked through on firm, dry ground. On April 6, 1892, the Saints as a body were nearly delirious. Now, finally, here in their own valley with their own hands they had cut out of the mountains a granite monument that was to mark, after all they had gone through, the safety of the Saints and the permanence of Christ’s true church on earth for this one last dispensation. The central symbol of all that was the completed house of their God. The streets were literally jammed with people. Forty thousand of them fought their way on to the temple grounds. Ten thousand more, unable to gain entrance, scrambled to the tops of nearby buildings in hopes that some glimpse of the activities might be had. Inside the Tabernacle, President Wilford Woodruff, visibly moved by the significance of the moment, said:
“If there is any scene on the face of this earth that will attract the attention of the God of heaven and the heavenly host, it is the one before us today—the assembling of this people, the shout of ‘Hosanna!’ the laying of the topstone of this Temple in honor to our God” (Contributor, p. 270). Then, moving outside, he laid the capstone in place exactly at high noon.
In the writing of one who was there, “The scene that followed is beyond the power of language to describe. The venerable President of the Twelve Apostles, Lorenzo Snow, came forward and led the forty thousand Saints in the Hosanna Shout. The eyes of thousands were moistened with tears in the fullness of their joy. The ground seemed to tremble with the volume of sound which sent forth its echoes to the surrounding hills. A grander or more imposing spectacle than this ceremony of laying the Temple capstone is not recorded in history,” he said (Contributor, p. 273).

Tashia Wood, from the Lazona Ward, was paired with a 10-year-old girl named Angelica. Tashia, 16, was nervous at first, but soon discovered that she had more in common with Angelica than she thought. “It was really cool because they were just like us,” Tashia said. “They just wanted to have fun.”
After Angelica won a prize at one game, she gave it to Tashia and said, “I want you to have this because I don’t want you to forget me.”
“She wasn’t selfish at all,” Tashia said. “She taught me not to take for granted what I have, because I have a lot of stuff and I’m usually whining about things I can’t have. Instead she gave to me, and she hardly has anything. She usually doesn’t even have a home to go to at night.”

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Wow! What a haul! I love Valentine Day, don’t you?
I guess so.
What’s wrong?
Traci hardly got any valentines. I saw her crying after school.
It’s not your fault. You gave her one.
Yes, but she still thinks nobody likes her.
Heavenly Father does. He loves everybody.
I don’t think Traci knows that.
Why don’t you tell her?
OK! I’ll play with her at recess tomorrow and tell her then. And I’ll make her another valentine.
I’ll tell her that I like her too.

Phoebe Carter was similarly led 750 miles (1,200 km) from Scarboro, Maine, to Kirtland, Ohio, in 1835. Phoebe was 28 years old when she determined to gather with Church members, even though she had to make her trek alone. As she later reported: “My friends marvelled at my course, as did I, but something within impelled me on. My mother’s grief at my leaving home was almost more than I could bear; and had it not been for the spirit within I should have faltered at the last. My mother told me she would rather see me buried than going thus alone into the heartless world. … ‘Phoebe,’ she said, impressively, ‘will you come back to me if you find Mormonism false?’ I answered thrice, ‘Yes, mother, I will.’ … When the time came for my departure I dared not trust myself to say farewell, so I wrote my good-bye to each, and leaving them on my table, ran down stairs and jumped into the carriage. Thus I left my beloved home of childhood to link my life with the Saints of God.”6

At that point Phoebe had no idea that her footsteps of faith would lead her on a journey much longer than the 750 miles (1,200 km) to Kirtland. She would marry Wilford Woodruff and join with him in journeying through Missouri to Nauvoo and then on the 1,350-mile (2,170-km) trek through wilderness lands to the Great Salt Lake Valley.

The Liahona has been a fountain of knowledge for me and helps me overcome difficulties from day to day. The interview with Elder Henry B. Eyring, titled “A Discussion on Scripture Study,” in the July 2005 issue was sensational. Thanks to this material, I learned to use the scriptures in an efficient way.Sandro Everaldo Ponte Machado, Brazil

I was fortunate enough to meet missionaries from your church. Thanks to these young men, I became acquainted with the Liahona. It is a marvelous magazine! It gives a complete view of the mission and principles of your church. It discusses problems as well as how to solve them. It also talks about the direction of the future path of your church.
I read the article “The Fall of Adam and Eve” in the June 2006 Liahona. I want to thank you for vindicating our first mother, Eve, and for your tireless search for true explanations of complex events described in the gospel.Alla R. Muriseva, Russia

“Why are you still inside?” Corey’s mother asked. “You always like to play in the puddles when it rains.”
Corey sat on the window seat, watching the last of the rain drip-drip-drip off the roof. “I always play in the puddles with Lissa,” he said. “But we had a fight yesterday.”
“Oh?”
“She named her new kitten Mannington. I told her that was a dumb name for a cat.”
“Did you tell her you were sorry?”
Corey stuck his chin out stubbornly. “I’m not sorry,” he said. “It is a dumb name.”
Mother smiled and said, “Do you remember the name you gave the goldfish we had last year?”
Corey remembered that he had named the timid little goldfish Shark, just to be funny. “I guess it was kind of a dumb name, too,” he admitted. “I think I’ll go outside now.”
Corey spattered a few puddles with his rubber boots. He swish-swished through the water running down the gutter.
“Puddles aren’t any fun alone,” he mumbled. “There’s nobody to splash with or to help me bomb the puddles with big rocks.”
He started slowly back home. He didn’t kick through the puddles. He didn’t even jump over them. He walked around them with regular, un-rainy-day steps.
In front of his house the rainwater ran along the curb like a little river. He watched the leaves scooting along like tiny boats toward Lissa’s house.
Lissa was outside playing by herself too. I know what I’ll do, Corey thought, racing into his house. In a few minutes he came back with a cardboard boat that he had made out of an old cereal box.
He launched his boat into the gutter, then hid behind a tree to watch. Bump … dip … spin. It was a rough ride, but his craft was seaworthy.
Lissa squealed happily when she spotted the boat. She reached down and plucked it from the water. Then she looked up and saw Corey peaking out from behind the tree. She waved and called to him.
When he got close to her, he said, “I think Mannington is an OK name for your cat. I’m sorry I made fun of it.”
“Thanks, Corey, for telling me that.” She smiled at him and handed him the boat. “Come on—let’s see who can find the biggest puddle to splash in.”

After my family hiked to the top of a cliff, at night I couldn’t stop thinking about falling off! Then I decided to use my imagination to change the ending. I imagined myself spreading my arms and flying. It was fun! The scary thoughts stopped, and I went to sleep without worry.
Larry Hiller, writer of Matt and Mandy

Many years ago I was in a professional association with two older, more experienced men. We had been friends for many years and found it mutually beneficial to help one another. One day, one associate sought our help on a complex matter. As soon as the issue had been explained, the first thing the other associate said was, “What’s in it for me?” When his old friend responded so selfishly, I saw the look of pain and disappointment on the face of the one who had invited our help. The relationship between the two was never quite the same after that. Our self-serving friend did not prosper, as his selfishness soon eclipsed his considerable gifts, talents, and qualities. Unfortunately, one of the curses of the world today is encapsulated in this selfish response: “What’s in it for me?”

When George Albert Smith (1870–1951) was the President of the Church, he taught Church members to donate work, food, and clothing to help feed and clothe others. After World War II left many people starving in Europe, President Smith went to the president of the United States and asked for help to send food and clothing to these people. Because members of the Church had produced food and donated clothing under a welfare program, the Church had enough to help those in need. The United States government agreed to send the food and clothing, which helped many people in Europe.
The members of the Church followed the prophet and willingly donated work, food, and clothing. When a time of terrible need came, the Church was prepared to help. Many people in Europe were blessed because members of the Church followed the prophet.

As part of their ministering, Elder Tune, President Kendall and the missionaries brought a much-needed laptop and monitor to donate to Chevalier Catholic High School on Abemama, where over 500 students from other small islands board.
“It was a humbling experience to see their computer lab. We walked into the building with the ‘computer lab’ sign over the door and there were no computers there. So, when we came with a laptop and a screen, the principal and the students were so excited! Now they have a computer in their lab,” Elder Tune said.

When I saw the cover of the October 2001 Liahona, I decided to serve a mission. It was the special missionary issue, and as I prepared spiritually and physically, I found in the Liahona everything I needed to know about a mission.
I love to read the magazine from cover to cover, especially Latter-day Saint Voices. These experiences strengthen my testimony.Elder David Ávalos Banda, México Veracruz Mission