Gospel Story Finder

My first attempt at doing recreational activities with my siblings was rough, to say the least. But a turning point for me was a trip to the Blue Ridge Mountains. The leaves were every color, and the amusement park was fun, but moments of curt words, selfish actions, and teasing gone wrong often dampened the mood. Before we left, my sister and I hiked up a small hill and sat quietly as we listened to the nature around us. It was the first time in a while that we had sat without quarreling, quietly discussing the days ahead and our current struggles. The Spirit was present, bringing peace I had forgotten.
I started to try to go out of my way to talk to my siblings, ask them about their day, give them a hug—just be involved in their life. I helped my youngest, autistic brother with his homework. I helped my youngest sister make grammar flash cards and create silly rhymes to memorize the different parts of speech. On her next test she had improved by more than 20 points and received her highest test grade. The joy I felt from those moments was different and more profound than I had expected. Being in a family can be hard, but in times likes those it is all worth it. Those little moments lead to ones of fun, games, and laughter; and I have felt a new unity in my family.
Emily C., 17, North Carolina, USA

I had to call my three kids back home and tell them. I wanted to share the love that Christ showed me.
“I met some missionaries here,” I told them. “They taught me this. They taught me that.” I told them to go investigate the Church.
My kids are all in the Church now, baptized in Sierra Leone. One even wants to go on a mission. That’s the goodness of Christ. Other family members are also coming into the Church, but some are hesitant. I still present Christ to them.
I’m lonely for my children, and they are lonely for me. But I told them, “I’m not in Sierra Leone, but the Church is there. The Church is your new family.” The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is growing there. When I heard we were getting a temple in Sierra Leone, I stood up and jumped. The temple is so peaceful. It will be the most beautiful building in the whole country.

Prior to my introduction to the restored gospel, I spent much of my time playing football, including games on the Sabbath day. Even though I had been brought up to have respect for the Lord’s day, it was through applying the principle after I came in contact with the Church that I gained an understanding of the doctrine and its blessings. Withdrawing from the Sunday league team was one of the significant sacrifices that led to my conversion. It helped me appreciate the value of the gospel in my life.
Three years later, when work commenced on building the chapel in Norwich, England, I also withdrew from the Saturday league team so that I could make my contribution to the building project. The mist of self-interest that had previously restricted my vision was beginning to disperse, and a new panoramic view was emerging, bringing with it a deeper appreciation for and an increasing love of life.

The El Centro California Stake hosted a regional Young Adult conference stressing the theme “Ye Shall Find Me.” With the whole desert as a backdrop, the young people got together for some fun on the sandy hills. They enjoyed exploring; playing volleyball, football, and frisbee; as well as trying an impromptu game of golf in one big sand trap.
The group met at the stake center for a series of workshops and a devotional. The workshops stressed such topics as coming to know Christ through service, learning to communicate, teaching children, and learning more about their own potential.
The workshops were followed by an evening of square dancing with the local police chief calling the dance. They feasted on Mexican food and used up their excess energy.
The conference concluded with Relief Society and Priesthood meetings and a testimony meeting in which many of the young adults talked about their testimonies and the importance of the youth programs in their lives.

We need an eternal plan. Life’s plan and the challenge to be successful are demonstrated in an Aesop Fable, “The Man, the Boy, and the Donkey.” The objective of the man and the boy was to journey to the city marketplace and sell the donkey for winter provisions. As they started to town, the father rode the donkey. In the first village, the villagers said, “What an inconsiderate man, riding the donkey and making his son walk!” So the father got off the donkey and let his son ride.

In the next hamlet, the people whispered, “What an inconsiderate boy, riding the donkey and making his father walk!”

In frustration, the father climbed on the donkey; and father and son rode the donkey, only to have the people in the next town declare, “How inconsiderate of the man and the boy to overload their beast of burden and treat him in such an inhumane manner!”

In compliance with the dissident voices and mocking fingers, the father and son both got off the donkey to relieve the animal’s burden, only to have the next group of onlookers say, “Can you imagine a man and a boy being so stupid as to not even use their beast of burden for what it was created!”

Then, in anger and total desperation, having tried to please all those who offered advice, the father and son both rode the donkey until it collapsed. The donkey had to be carried to the marketplace. The donkey could not be sold. The people in the marketplace scoffed, “Who wants a worthless donkey that can’t even walk into the city!”

The father and son had failed in their goal of selling the donkey and had no money to buy the winter provisions they needed in order to survive.

How much different the outcome would have been if the father and son had had a plan to follow. Father could have said, “I’ll ride the donkey one-third of the way; Son, you ride the donkey one-third of the way; and we’ll both walk the last third of the way. The donkey will arrive at the marketplace fresh and strong, ready to be sold.”

Then, as they received confusing advice while traveling through each hamlet and village along their way to the city, they could look at each other, give a reassuring wink of the eye, and say, “We have a plan.”

I will be forever grateful to my mother, who taught me the importance of the temple. For years, she prepared us for the temple by having pictures of many beautiful temples hanging in our home. We also had family home evening lessons about temples. All of this was in anticipation of the long-promised visit to the temple after reaching the age of 12.
The words of the song my mother sang, often at the breakfast table before family prayers, still ring in my ears.
I love to see the temple.
I’m going there someday
To feel the Holy Spirit,
To listen and to pray.
For the temple is a house of God,
A place of love and beauty.
I’ll prepare myself while I am young;
This is my sacred duty.
(Children’s Songbook, 95)
For each of us five children, Mother’s present for our 12th birthday was a trip to the temple. The closest temple—Johannesburg—was a long trip, a 16-hour, nonstop drive, and it cost a lot of money. It meant leaving at 4:00 A.M. and arriving after 8:00 P.M.—tired, hot, and sticky.
Yet my mother always made sure money for the temple trip was first in the budget, along with tithing. Each year, we made the journey to the temple to do work for the dead. By sacrificing so much, my mother helped me understand the beauty of the temple and the importance of the work done there.
When I think of my mother, beaming proudly, as she presented her two children, my sister and me, to the temple president and showed him our recommends, I am reminded of Hannah bringing Samuel to Eli in the temple and dedicating her son to the Lord. Although I didn’t fully understand the importance of the temple at first, each successive temple trip left an indelible impression on me. My love for the temple grew each year as my mother sacrificed so much for our experiences there. To see her children in the temple, dressed in white and doing the Lord’s work, meant more to my mother than anything she could have bought with the money she saved.

Nicholas Bailey loves journeys. His first major journey began just after he was born, when the Baileys drove to a social services office to pick him up and take him home. For Nicholas, like his sister, Shannon, and little brother, Chase, was adopted. Shannon (12) remembers grabbing some blankets and papers, then riding to the office. “I even remember what I was wearing,” she said.
Six years later another journey began. Nicholas and Shannon were part of the decision when their parents were thinking of adopting a third child. “Nicholas would have to share his room, and Shannon would have to take on some additional responsibilities,” said their mom. After the family had all decided that they did want another baby, they filed the proper papers with their lawyer and began the wait. One day the call came: “The baby is here. When can you come?” The next morning the Baileys all flew to another state, where the two-day-old baby was waiting for them. It was a journey none of them would forget. “We have the whole thing on video,” said Nicholas’s father. “It was absolutely great. Getting Chase was one of the most exciting things that our family has ever done.”
The Baileys have made three other very important trips in their lives—to the temple to have each of their children sealed to them. “It’s wonderful,” said Ellen. “We have the opportunity to raise them. Each of them has added another dimension to our family.”
Shannon and Nicholas remember the special day that they all went to the Portland Temple and Chase was sealed to their “forever family.” Shannon said, “I remember being in a waiting room. We had to wait for quite a while. Finally we went and got dressed in white. Then they took us in an elevator to the sealing room.” Nicholas remembers the mirrors in the sealing room that made the reflection of his family go on and on and on, just as his family would—eternally.

From among many exemplary lives in our rich history as a people, I wish to share examples from just two. The first is from the life of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
During a bitter winter of imprisonment in Richmond, Missouri, Joseph and some fifty other brethren were subjected to great hardship and exposure. One of their greatest trials was to endure the blasphemies and filthy language of their guards as they boasted of their unspeakable cruelty to the Saints.
Of one particularly tedious night, Elder Parley P. Pratt wrote:
“I had listened till I became so disgusted, shocked, horrified, and so filled with the spirit of indignant justice that I could scarcely refrain from rising upon my feet and rebuking the guards; but had said nothing to Joseph, or any one else, although I lay next to him and knew he was awake. On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:
“‘SILENCE, ye fiends of the infernal pit. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’
“He ceased to speak. He stood erect in terrible majesty. Chained, and without a weapon; calm, unruffled and dignified as an angel, he looked upon the quailing guards, whose weapons were lowered or dropped to the ground; whose knees smote together, and who, shrinking into a corner, or crouching at his feet, begged his pardon, and remained quiet till a change of guards.”
Elder Pratt continues:
“I have seen the ministers of justice, clothed in magisterial robes, and criminals arraigned before them, while life was suspended on a breath, in the Courts of England; I have witnessed a Congress in solemn session to give laws to nations; I have tried to conceive of kings, of royal courts, of thrones and crowns; and of emperors assembled to decide the fate of kingdoms; but dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1975], pp. 210–11).
Does not this image of the Prophet Joseph courageously rebuking the forces of evil move us to do likewise?

Though all of us have to do things we do not like, it is important that you ultimately enjoy your work. If you can’t stand to be indoors, maybe you had better try to find something that you would like to do outside. One high school senior loved to fish and camp, and consequently he became very knowledgeable about nature. He got in touch with two prominent naturalists and they hired him. His job? To help study the habits and life of the grizzly bear in Yellowstone National Park.

Quite by accident, we just happened to be in Trieste, Italy, the day before the Young Women of the ward there were to leave for the camp. Rita Schina, the Young Women leader in the Trieste Ward, invited us to accompany the group. We had other plans, but a whisper in our hearts told us to go to the camp instead, so we heeded the prompting. We have been thankful ever since that we did.
We attended the camp to see if such an experience could change the lives of young LDS girls. Now we realize that the experience changed our lives as well. The joy the girls felt in living simple gospel standards, and the unpretentious love and respect they showed to us and to each other, have been lasting influences in our lives.

As I’ve pondered how we receive answers to prayers, my mind was drawn to an experience with our youngest son, Kimball. You see, Kimball has Down Syndrome. This condition makes many physical tasks and skills much more challenging for him to learn than for most of us. One of the skills that Kimball has struggled to learn is how to ride a two-wheel bicycle. Recently, we were made aware of a program called “I Can Bike,” which teaches kids with special needs to ride a bicycle.
It works by using a cone-shaped training wheel for additional stability and a support person jogging alongside. As the rider gains confidence and experience, the size of the cone is reduced and eventually removed and replaced with a normal wheel. The support person also fades into the background. The results of this program have been tremendous, with the vast majority of participants learning to ride a bicycle in less than a week.
Kimball is with us here today. Kimball, would you please come stand beside me for a minute?
Last summer, Kimball participated in this program and, though far from expert status, has newfound freedom, confidence, and joy from the simple pleasure of riding a bike. Here’s a brief video of Kimball in action:
Thank you, Kimball. That was truly inspiring.

Our relationship changed after that incident. As we grew older I tormented him less, and when I did, he fought back. We basically ignored each other until our family moved to California one summer.
When school started, Eric and I were the only people we knew at school, and we had to rely on each other. Instead of eating lunch by myself, I met Eric and we sat on the stone steps together. As we dug through our brown bags and munched ham sandwiches, I was surprised at the growing number of people who waved at, talked to, and sat down beside Eric. His cheery grin, relaxed attitude, and silly jokes soon had us in the middle of a noisy group of friends. Others saw in Eric what I had kept myself from seeing, and they showed me his strength, his dedication, his strange but hilarious sense of humor, and his amazing ability to shrug off pain.
One lunchtime Eric was a couple of minutes late. He spotted our group and sprinted across the sloping lawn, gripping his brown sack in his good left hand. His backpack bumped against him, his shirttail billowed, and his shoelaces straggled behind him. His weak right ankle tangled with his charging left foot, and he went down in a heap. He tried to catch himself, but his right arm crumpled and he plowed the grass with his face.
A couple of guys and I jumped up and ran to him. By the time we reached him, he was sitting up in the middle of his spilled backpack and smashed lunch. Dirt and grass smeared his nose and forehead, and he had a bloody scrape on his chin. He grinned up at us and said, “I hate it when that happens!”
One of the guys asked him incredulously, “Did you do that on purpose?”
Another example of his determination was when he joined the swim team. I had swum the year before and lettered in water polo. Eric decided he’d like to take a crack at competitive sports. He never missed a practice, even though he never placed higher than last in any meet. Sometimes he ended up in the wrong lane because his left side was so much stronger than his right, and he often worked up such momentum that he crashed into the concrete pool sides. But by the end of the season, he had halved his personal best time for the 50-meter freestyle.
Eric has been an example to me, even when I wouldn’t admit it. He taught me how to be tolerant of other people’s differences, how to overcome and overlook weakness, and how to find strength. He taught me to use what I have and to never give up. He showed me the value of being myself and how to love without condition.

George Staples (pictured as an adult)

George Staples left his home and family in England to travel to Utah. When he was 16, he joined a company of Saints in the United States, but as they crossed the plains, George was separated from the group. The company had to keep moving or risk running into warring Sioux Indians. As the story goes, he stayed behind.

George later joined a Sioux tribe and lived as an honorary Sioux for years.

People in the Salt Lake Valley heard about a white boy living as a Sioux. Eventually, a group came looking for him. As the group neared the tribe, George recognized someone. With a wild whoop, he ran to his father. They were thrilled to see each other, but George’s Sioux mother was devastated to lose her adopted son. So, before leaving with his father, George promised to return and visit his Sioux family. He kept his promise.2

Let me provide an example. When I first visited Czechoslovakia, accompanied by Hans B. Ringger, long before the freedom bell sounded, I was met by Jiri Snederfler, our leader through this dark period, and Sister Olga Snederfler, his wife. I went to their home in Prague where the branch met. Displayed on the walls of the room in which we assembled were picture after picture of the Salt Lake Temple. I said to Sister Snederfler, “Your husband must truly love the temple.”
She responded, “I, too; I, too.”
We sat down for some soup Sister Snederfler had prepared, after which she brought out a treasure trove: an album containing individual pictures of the missionaries who were serving there in 1950 when the government edict came for the mission to be closed. As she slowly leafed through the pictures of different missionaries, she would say, “Wonderful boy, wonderful boy.”
Brother Snederfler has been a courageous Church leader in Czechoslovakia and has been willing to put everything on the line for the gospel. When the opportunity came that we would seek recognition for the Church in that country, the government leaders, then Communist, said: “Don’t send an American. Don’t send a German. Don’t send a Swiss. Send a citizen of Czechoslovakia.”
There were ominous implications in that particular statement because to have admitted that you were a church leader during this period of the prohibition of religion was tantamount to possible imprisonment. And yet, this call came to Brother Snederfler to be the designated person to go before the government and to forthrightly state that he was the leader of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for all of Czechoslovakia and that he was seeking recognition for his church. He later told me that he had been somewhat frightened and had asked for the prayers of his brothers and sisters in the Prague Branch. He went to his sweet wife, Olga, and said to her: “I love you. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll be back, but I love the gospel, and I must follow my Savior.”
With that spirit of faith and devotion, Brother Snederfler went before the government officials and acknowledged that he was the leader of the Church and that he was there to seek a restoration of the recognition the Church had enjoyed long years before. In the meantime Elder Russell M. Nelson had been working tirelessly to bring about the desired decision. Later, Brother Snederfler heard the good news: “Your church is again recognized in Czechoslovakia.” How eager Brother Snederfler was to tell his dear wife and the other stalwart members of the Church the wonderful news that once again missionaries could come to Czechoslovakia and the Church could provide a haven for freedom of worship in that nation. It was a happy day for Czechoslovakia.
Where are Jiri and Olga Snederfler today? Just last month they responded to their calls to serve as temple president and matron of the Freiberg Germany Temple, where faithful members of the Church in Germany, Czechoslovakia, and surrounding nations attend. These two saintly souls find themselves each day in the Lord’s house they so dearly love.
And what of Richard Winder, one of the former missionaries of whom Olga Snederfler exclaimed, “Wonderful boy, wonderful boy”? He is now the president of the Czechoslovakia Prague Mission, responding to the call to him and his wife, Barbara, to reopen the work in that country.

In the first few years after my wife and I joined the Church, my prayers would not be classified as “feasting in prayer.” They were more like nibbling or, at best, snacking. They were brief and often without depth. Seldom did I feel like I was communing with our Father in Heaven or that he was hearing me. Have you ever felt that way? Influenced by the scriptures and numerous talks from the pulpit, I realized that I needed to spend more time in prayer. So I finally decided that I would pray for a half-hour each morning. The first day I arose early and locked myself in a spare bedroom in our apartment, knelt by the chair, and placed my watch next to me on that chair. I then began to pray. When I had finished repeating to the Lord the same things I had said to him rather routinely every day for the previous year or two and could think of no more to say, I opened my eyes and looked at my watch. Three minutes had elapsed. I remember thinking, “Oh great, what am I going to talk about for another 27 minutes?”
It was then that I admitted to myself that I wasn’t allowing the Lord into my heart. Part of the problem was that I wasn’t even allowing myself into my heart. You sisters are probably saying, “Typical male!” I simply wasn’t thinking consciously about my concerns, about the people I loved, or about my own repentance. I wasn’t even taking the time to prepare for my time with the Lord. Think about that. If you had an appointment to talk with President Hinckley, wouldn’t you plan ahead and think about what you would like to talk with him about? Yet I wasn’t doing that with the Lord.
That morning, realizing my problem, I began constructing a list of things that were really important to me and that I would like to talk with the Lord about. Each morning I reviewed that list before beginning my prayer, and the list continued to grow as I thought of new things to add. In the next few days and weeks, my prayer became much more meaningful, and I began to feel the promptings and reassurances of the Lord during my prayer. I began to look forward eagerly to my private interview with the Lord. Furthermore, it soon became common for me to look up at my watch and discover that the 30 minutes had already gone by, and I had only discussed the first few items on my list.

On one occasion, an ancient mathematician named Archimedes was asked by his king to determine if the king’s new crown was solid gold or if the goldsmith had dishonestly substituted some silver for gold. Archimedes pondered the solution; finally an answer came. So overjoyed was he by this discovery that, according to legend, he ran about the city crying, “Eureka! Eureka!”—meaning, “I have found it! I have found it!”

I was born into a family of many children, and I remember being able to have open discussions with my mother. One day, I asked her: “Mommy, why does one of my classmates always obtain the highest grades in class?” She looked at me and kindly replied: “Indeed, you are going to the same school; but he does something differently than you do. In fact, he goes to church every week, but you only attend Church sometimes.”
Since that day, I made a personal commitment to always attend church on Sunday so that I could do better at school. My grades became better because I did go to church regularly, although I did not always fully understand the teachings.

As a student, you probably have or will learn about William Shakespeare in school. But what if, instead, Shakespeare was a student who learned at your school? For David Arnold, this was a reality. He went to King Edward VI School in England, where Shakespeare is said to have attended.
This school was appealing to David because it has a good reputation. Getting in is also really competitive, and David didn’t know if he would be accepted when he applied at age 11.
But getting into the school taught David something about himself: “I’m better than I thought I was,” he says. “It made me realize that I can do it.”

By the way people turn and stare, smile and wave when the Roth family drives down the streets of Station-Siggenthal, you might think that they were celebrities. Although they don’t know everyone in the village, everyone seems to know them.
In Switzerland, where most families have only one or two children, the Roth family is extraordinary because besides Hans and Valerie Roth, the parents, there are ten children. And when they all pile into their van for an outing, it is quite a sight. Being all together is something Samantha (7) wishes that they could do more often.
With all of their busy schedules, it is sometimes difficult to see each other every day. Samantha, for instance, goes to school from 8:00 A.M. until 11:00 or 12:00 o’clock. Then she goes home for lunch. School starts again at 1:20 P.M. and goes until 3:00 or 4:00 o’clock. On Saturday, school is from 8:00 A.M. to 11:00 or 12:00 o’clock. Each child in the Roth household leaves for and comes home after school at different times.
Because of all this coming and going, not to mention other activities, Samantha wants her family to be together for supper each evening. It is a special time with everyone helping to get dinner on the table, sharing what’s happened to them during the day, and cleaning up afterward. If someone is not home, Samantha asks if he or she will be there the next night, because she really misses him.
She is grateful for family home evening, too, because it gives her family another to chance to all be together. A favorite family activity is to go on picnics. Mom makes and packs some “snake bread dough,” then they take hot dogs to one of their favorite spots, wrap the dough around the hot dogs, and roast them over a fire.
With such a large family, there are always things around the house that need doing. Shoes, boots, and coats all need to be kept in their proper places. Sports equipment is organized so that it’s easy to find. And household chores must be done daily.
“When you ask Samantha to help,” her mother said, “she never says, ‘No, I don’t want to.’” Samantha likes to vacuum, and she loves to wash dishes by hand, even though the family owns a dishwasher.
“She’s a good girl, and she helps a lot with the smaller children,” her father said.
She is always happy, smiling, and singing. “Samantha’s a very good singer,” said Naëmi (15). Sarah and Jessica (17), who are twins, appreciate her being always willing to help and to listen when they want to talk about their joys or problems.
When they have time, she plays basketball with Jérôme (16) and Joël (12). Manuel (10) is teaching her to play table tennis. But her favorite sport is swimming. Every chance she gets, weather permitting, she heads out the back door and down a grassy path to the nearby community swimming pool. She sometimes wishes that she could be a dolphin, leaping through waves and playing in the water all day.
Tending Semjon (4), Moana (3), and Jeshua (1) also helps the family. Once she learned a lot about faith and prayer. Semjon had wandered off, and she frantically searched for him for half an hour but couldn’t find him. She turned to Heavenly Father for help. After praying, she went on searching and sang “I Am a Child of God.” She feels that singing Primary songs pleases Heavenly Father. Soon she felt that she should return home. When she got there, she found Semjon. She was very grateful that Heavenly Father had answered her prayers.
She thinks all children should remember that when you have problems, you can always turn to your Heavenly Father in prayer. Sometimes it takes patience. Her brother Jérôme had worked very hard and saved money to buy a bicycle. When it was stolen out of the Roth’s garage, he prayed every day that he would get his bike back. After three months of praying every day, he felt impressed to go play in an area where he’d never gone before. He found his bike there. Samantha knows that Heavenly Father helped her brother find his bike. She knows He helped her find her brother Semjon. And she knows that although He doesn’t always answer prayers the way we want Him to, He does listen and answer everyone’s prayers.

I also learned about prayer from my mother. I grew up in the country on a cattle ranch. When I was eight or nine, my dad gave me a Shetland pony for my birthday, and I was really happy because I liked horses. A few days after I received this gift, a couple of boys asked if I wanted to go horseback riding with them. Mother said that I could go, so I rode with them for about three hours into the mountains. Suddenly, the two boys looked at me and said, “We have to go home now. We promised our mothers we would be back soon.” They had big horses. Mine was a little pony. They took off on a gallop, and my little pony couldn’t keep up with them. When they got out of sight, I stopped and I had no idea where I was. I became frightened.

Then I remembered what my mother had told me—if you get in trouble or if you need help, remember that you can pray to Heavenly Father. I got off my pony, knelt on the ground, and prayed. I don’t remember what I said, except “Please help me to get home.” After I finished my prayer, I got back on my pony. I sat there for two or three minutes holding the reins, not knowing what to do. I decided to drop the reins on the horse’s neck. After a few seconds, the horse started to walk. He walked faster and faster, and just before dark he walked into our backyard.

I learned two things from this experience. The first is that if we will pray to Heavenly Father in sincerity, He will answer our prayers. The second is that a horse knows its way home! I didn’t know that before I prayed.