Gospel Story Finder

1838—My brother Don Carlos and my cousin George A. Smith returned (from missions through Kentucky and Tennessee), having traveled 2415 kilometers—1450 kilometers on foot, and the remainder by steamboat and otherwise. They visited several branches. When nearly home they were recognized and pursued by the mob, which compelled them to travel 160 kilometers in two days and night. They had little to eat and narrowly escaped freezing both nights.

Jamie covered his clothes with his father’s old shirt and started to paint a picture.
He began with a clean white sheet of paper and painted a blue swirl on it.
He added a jagged yellow line.
Then he painted a blob of black, some pink circles that looked like balloons, some orange spots resembling freckles, some red lines similar to jackstraws, and some green smudges just like the green smear on his chin.
He added a lavender patch like the one he had dropped on his dog, Sam. He painted dashes and slashes and twirls and curls.
Then his painting arm got tired. He was finished.
Jamie stood back and looked at it. “It’s beautiful,” he said.
Sam looked at it and growled.
Jamie ran all the way to the art museum where the art contest for the school was being held. He showed his picture to the director, Mr. Lundy, who scratched his head and said, “It might be a good painting and it might be a bad one. I’ll have to let the visitors decide.”
Mr. Lundy hung the painting, and under it he put a writing tablet, a pencil, and a sign. The sign read “If you like this painting, please vote for it.”
Jamie sat on a high stool beside his picture and anxiously waited for the visitors.
The first visitor was a man with a beautiful red beard. He looked at the painting and smiled.
“Do you like it?” Jamie asked, then held his breath.
The man nodded. “I’m a mountain climber and I see that this painter has painted the very mountain that I once climbed in far-off Switzerland.”
Jamie looked at his picture in surprise.
“It’s a mountain?” he asked.
“Yes, Mount Skyhook.” The man reached for the tablet. “I’ll be glad to vote for this picture.”
The next visitor was a teacher from Jamie’s school. She looked at the picture for a long time, then wiped her eyes with a lace hankie.
“Does the picture make you sad?” Jamie asked, forgetting he was always a little shy around teachers.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” She quickly hid her hankie in her purse. “I haven’t seen my father for a long time, and this artist has painted a picture of my father’s spectacles.”
“Your father’s spectacles!” Jamie blinked in astonishment.
The teacher nodded. “This artist must have known and loved my father. Now that summer vacation is nearly here, I’m going to take the next train home to see him.” She wrote her name on the tablet. “And I’m going to vote for this painting.”
Jamie had scarcely recovered from the reaction of the second visitor when a third appeared. The man was dressed in the clothes of a sea captain. He stared at the picture as he whispered softly to himself. Jamie couldn’t quite hear what he said.
Finally Jamie asked, “Do you have a boat?” Before Jamie had decided to become an artist, he had planned to be a sea captain.
“Ho there, boy. Didn’t see you.” The captain shook his head sadly. “Once I had a ship, the Dory-D—the sweetest little three-masted schooner afloat. We sailed the seven seas together, me and my Dory-D.” He wiped a blue sleeve across his eyes.
“Did you lose her?” Jamie asked, wanting to cry too.
“Aye, in the wickedest storm that ever lashed the African coast. So broken up I was that I settled on land and vowed never to set foot on a deck again. But after seeing my Dory-D …”
“Your Dory-D?” And Jamie stared again at his picture.
“Aye, lad, someone has painted my Dory-D to her very last jib. The picture has given me heart again. It’s off to sea I am with a deck under my feet and a sky over my head and oh, laddie, won’t that feel great!”
After that twenty-two people came to see Jamie’s picture and twenty-two people voted for it—each one for his own special reason.
When Jamie told the director about the visitors, Mr. Lundy nodded. “In your picture people could see what they wanted to see and it made them happy. Therefore, it is a good painting.” Then he added, “Of course, you and I know that it’s really a painting of the prize rosebush in my backyard.”
“No,” Jamie said, “it’s a picture of my dog, Sam. And Sam was the only one who didn’t like it!”

My brother and I never used to get along. Then one day when I was on a vacation, he gave me a call to check on me. From then on, we both got along. All it took was one nice gesture at the right time. We talked about it later, and we just agreed that we both had stopped making an effort not to be rude. Discussing it helped strengthen our friendship, and though it took time, once we realized it took effort from both of us, we began becoming much closer.
Megan G., 19, Virginia

Tina and her family went back to Orem, Utah, to see the little house where she lived as a child. “When we moved into that little house, the yard was run-down and full of weeds. We had to clear all the weeds and the rocks before we could plant lawn. It was the nicest lawn, and everyone came to play there. When we went back, we found it had all gone to weeds again. I was so sad. I remember how hard I worked.”

I was blowing soap bubbles
One fine day—
Pink and gold and amethyst
And every shell-like hue—
The airiest, the fairiest,
The very I-don’t-care-iest
I ever, ever knew.
I was blowing soap bubbles
One fine day—
Rings and strings and clusters
That seemed magic, magnified—
Such shimmery and flossy ones,
Such glittery and glossy ones
That when I blew the biggest one
I blew myself inside!
I floated round the town and back,
And everywhere I went
Everything looked sunset-tinted,
Radiant, rainbow-gay!
But though I tried, I never quite
Blew another half so bright
And lovely as the one I blew
That one fine day,
That pink and gold and amethyst
Never-forgotten day.

After President Wilford Woodruff joined the Church he desired to serve a mission.
“I was but a Teacher,” he wrote, “and it is not a Teacher’s office to go abroad and preach. I dared not tell any of the authorities of the Church that I wanted to preach, lest they might think I was seeking for an office” (Leaves from My Journal, Salt Lake City: Juvenile Instructor Office, 1882, p. 8).
He prayed to the Lord, and without disclosing his desire to any others, he was ordained a priest and sent on a mission. They went to the Arkansas Territory.
He and his companion struggled through a hundred miles of alligator-infested swamps, wet, muddy, and tired. Brother Woodruff developed a sharp pain in his knee and could go no further. His companion left him sitting on a log and went home. Brother Woodruff knelt down in the mud and prayed for help. He was healed and continued his mission alone.
Three days later he arrived in Memphis, Tennessee, weary, hungry, and very muddy. He went to the largest inn and asked for something to eat and for a place to sleep, although he had no money to pay for either.
When the innkeeper found he was a preacher, he laughed and decided to have some fun with him. He offered Brother Woodruff a meal if he would preach to his friends.
A large audience of the rich and fashionable people of Memphis gathered and were quite amused by this mud-stained missionary.
None would sing or pray, so Brother Woodruff did both. He knelt before them and begged the Lord to give him His Spirit and to show him the hearts of the people. And the Spirit came! Brother Woodruff preached with great power. He was able to reveal the secret deeds of those who came to ridicule him.
When he was finished, no one laughed at this humble holder of the Aaronic Priesthood. Thereafter he was treated with kindness (see Leaves from My Journal, pp. 16–18).
He was under the guiding, protecting power of his Aaronic Priesthood. The same power can be with you as well.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles shared how Bishop Monson cared for the widows: “Many may know that young Bishop Monson took a week of his personal vacation time every Christmas season to visit all of those eighty-five widows in his ward. Many may not know that for the first several years the gift he would take them was one of the … hens raised and dressed out by him in his own poultry coops.”1

An African sister says, “My husband’s priesthood service makes him more patient and kind. And I am becoming a better wife and mother.”

One day in high school, I had a geography test where I was asked to recognize and name each continent and country in the world. Sounds tough, right? Well, it was. Especially since I am mostly blind.
I have tunnel vision, so my eyes—well, the one that works—can only focus on a small portion of a page at a time. Not ideal for a test where I needed to see the whole picture all at once.
I got frustrated pretty quick. I couldn’t tell Europe apart from South America or Africa from Australia. I got so frustrated that I started to cry, making the already jumbled shapes on my paper even more blurry. Thankfully, I was saved when my dad walked in to pick me up at the end of the day.
My teacher gave me extra time to complete the test at home. After dinner that night I sat at the table, ready to try again, while my siblings watched a video in the living room.
I started trying to fill in the map when something in the video caught my attention. A blind man was asking the Savior if He would give him sight. At that moment, that’s what I wanted more than anything.
Suddenly I realized that if anyone could help me, it was Jesus Christ. I didn’t have sight given to me that day, but as I listened to the Savior heal that man, I felt joy! I knew Jesus Christ cared about me and would help me finish my test.
I knelt down and offered heartfelt thanks to my Heavenly Father for the gift of His Son. Then, with newfound determination, I picked up my pencil, ready to try again.

I had a serious case of the “I feel worthless” syndrome. I lacked self-esteem and refused to care for or about myself.
My parents tried to encourage me, but any suggestion could cause an eruption. Talking to me was like walking on eggs. “Just leave me alone!” I would exclaim, louder and more angrily than I had intended. I knew my parents spent many sleepless nights worrying about their daughter.
One Sunday evening, my mother insisted that I go to a stake fireside with her and my father. “I don’t want to go to that stupid fireside!” I said. I was always looking for an argument, for any way to blame others for my misery.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Paige. Of course you’ll go,” my mom answered.
When we walked into the chapel, I noticed that some of my friends were already sitting—not in the pews, but on the stand. Trying to go unnoticed, I sat down.
A youth leader tapped me on the shoulder, “Paige, why don’t you sing with us?”
“I’m sorry, Sister Daines, but I haven’t been to any of the practices. I don’t even know the name of the song.”
“Don’t worry,” she said as she helped me up from my seat. “You’ll be fine.”
Before I knew it, the stake president was introducing “a vocal number by the great youth of the stake.” Panic raced through my heart.
The pianist touched the keys, and the opening bars of the song echoed throughout the chapel. Tears slowly slid down my cheeks as I began to sing. I knew the words to this song. I had all along.
“I am a child of God,” I sang. As the words came from my lips, I looked at my parents, smiling from the front row. Their eyes said, “We love you.”
Suddenly I knew I was not alone. From that moment, I have known that truly I am a child of God and that he has sent me to parents kind and dear.
The words of the song had come out of my mouth many times. Now they had finally entered my heart.

While on a school trip to Las Vegas, my brother and I were wandering along “the Strip” looking for souvenirs and seeing the sights. We proceeded innocently into a large and impressive hotel, which, we discovered only after we went inside, had a casino attached. We had no intention of gambling, but everywhere we turned were opportunities to do just that.
We wandered deeper and deeper into the building, looking for a store with souvenirs we might be interested in. Built like a maze, the corridors of the casino all seemed to lead from one area of slot machines to another. At last we realized we were lost. The lights were dim, and we were surrounded by all sorts of flashy and offensive advertising. We knew that the buses to go back home would be leaving without us if we didn’t find an exit soon.
Finally we found a security guard and asked him about the quickest way out. He had an annoyed expression, but after giving a disgruntled cough he told us the way. The instructions were complicated, and we had to ask him to repeat them several times. Luckily, with his directions, we found a well-hidden set of doors which led out to the sunlight. We found ourselves on the main street and soon met our supervisors.

In this world where there is so much sleaze, permissiveness, and immorality, having good friends will go a long way in ensuring our ability to withstand the evils of this, our day. Having good friends will put you in a position to attract the kind of eternal companion you will hope to find. Such was the case with Sister Rasband. We were first great friends. An invitation for marriage came later.

Several LDS groups invited my minister friend to speak on the topic of “loving our neighbor despite religious differences,” and she experienced a great deal of acceptance from those who attended. In turn, she invited several Latter-day Saints, including me, to speak to different congregations on the same topic. After the services, I found myself surrounded by congregants wanting to talk to me, hug me, and even shed tears of mutual love and understanding. In experiences like these, I have found Elder Holland’s conclusion to be true:

Sixteen-year-old Mattie Hughes was thrilled when she heard about what the prophet had said. Becoming a doctor was her dream. And now President Brigham Young was actually encouraging women to become doctors!
Mattie knew that some medical schools were finally letting women in. Of course, she would have to get a college degree before she could go to medical school. And she would have to save a lot of money. It would take a lot of time and a lot of hard work. She knew that.
But Mattie thought of her little sister, Annie, who had died on the wagon trip to Utah. There had been no doctor to help her when she got sick. Then Mattie’s father had died. Here in Salt Lake City, Mattie knew lots of people who were sick or hurt. If Mattie became a doctor, she could help them.
Mattie decided to have faith. The prophet had said women should train to be doctors, and she wanted to be one of them! God would help her find a way to go to medical school.
Mattie worked hard to save money. She got a job as a typesetter for a newspaper. She had to carefully arrange every letter of every word in the right order so the newspaper could be printed. After work, Mattie went to classes at the university to get ready for medical school.
Between home, work, and school, Mattie walked six miles (10 km) every day! She wore heavy men’s boots because her regular shoes weren’t tough enough to trudge through the mud. She wished she could ride in the mule-drawn streetcar instead of walking, but she was saving every penny for school.
Mattie worried that she wouldn’t be able to save enough money. She knew her mother and stepfather would try to help her, but they had other children to take care of. What else could she do?
Mattie decided to hold a fundraiser and ask friends and ward members to share whatever money they could spare. They were happy to help. Mattie was only the third woman to try to follow President Young’s call to become a doctor, and they wanted her to succeed.
After the fundraisers, Mattie had enough to go to medical school! She traveled across the country to a university and studied hard.
Two years later, Mattie held her head high and marched onto the graduation platform to receive her diploma. She was finally a doctor! She had never felt so excited.
Mattie looked into the cheering crowd of strangers. None of her family or friends from home could be there, but she knew they were proud of her. Soon she would return home to care for them and teach them what she had learned.
After going back to Utah, Mattie worked at the Relief Society’s hospital in Salt Lake City. She loved her job as a doctor. She helped treat diseases, heal injuries, and even teach classes on how to deliver babies.
Becoming a doctor had been hard work. But Heavenly Father had helped her. Now Mattie would spend the rest of her life helping others.

With the knowledge that her little brother had leukemia, Michelle went to Bear River High School sad and despondent. She struggled through the school day, grateful when the dismissal bell rang. As she collected her books, a friend approached, “Michelle, come into the music room with me.” Half-heartedly, Michelle accompanied her. Entering the music room, she was surprised to find the entire a cappella choir. In the straightforward manner of youth, they told Michelle they had been fasting for her little brother and wanted her to join them as they prayed together to end their fast.

Mary, a young girl with mental disabilities and not a member of the Church, was limited, but she wanted very much to be included. Sensitive to her needs, several young women invited her to participate in the ward road show. Her family was invited to the performance. Mary’s father wanted to know more about a church whose people cared enough about his daughter to include her. The whole family embraced the gospel and were baptized.

Some years ago a priests quorum decided to gather food for the needy as a service project. Jim, one of the priests, was excited to participate and was determined to collect more food than anyone else. The time arrived when the priests met at the chapel. They all went out at the same time and returned at a specified time later in the evening. To everyone’s surprise, Jim’s cart was empty. He seemed rather sober, and some of the boys made fun of him. Seeing this and knowing that Jim had an interest in cars, the adviser said, “Come outside, Jim. I want you to look at my car. It’s giving me some trouble.”
When they got outside, the adviser asked Jim if he was upset. Jim said, “No, not really. But when I went out to collect the food, I really got a lot. My cart was full. As I was returning to the chapel, I stopped at the home of a nonmember woman who is divorced and lives within our ward boundaries. I knocked on the door and explained what we were doing, and she invited me in. She began to look for something to give me. She opened the refrigerator, and I could see there was hardly anything in it. The cupboards were bare. Finally, she found a small can of peaches.
“I could hardly believe it. There were all these little kids running around that needed to be fed, and she handed me this can of peaches. I took it and put it in my cart and went on up the street. I got about halfway up the block when I just felt warm all over and knew I needed to go back to that house. I gave her all the food.”
The adviser said, “Jim, don’t you ever forget the way you feel tonight, because that’s what it is all about.” Jim had tasted the nutrient of selfless service.

I recently became employed in Bengaluru, India, a city that is far from my hometown of Chennai. I enjoyed my new job; however, going to a new branch was a different feeling. I felt like a stranger, and I missed my home branch. Then I read the article “Making Any Ward ‘Home’” in the January 2008 Liahona. I felt comforted, and I started introducing myself to many members. I received a calling and made new friends. Most importantly, I know better why I come to church. Now I look for new faces and reach out to them. Thank you for the article.
Joseph Isaac, India

Several of the grandchildren included learning to cook as a goal. When they came to town, we cooked together. For those who live farther away, we do a video call with each other to discuss recipes and cook in “real time.”

I love reading the New Era. It makes me feel like I am doing the right things in my life! Just recently I read the article “Right on Track” in the June 2006 New Era. It made me realize the true meaning of family and why it’s important to support and love each other. That’s the secret of getting along. I took that advice and have tried extra hard to get along with my sister. Thank you for taking the time to publish each article! I love everything about the New Era.Samantha A., Idaho