Gospel Story Finder

As the girls join together in various groups, one of the groups appears isolated from the others. It is a small group of American girls whose parents work or are stationed temporarily in Italy. They don’t speak Italian, and they are not familiar with some of the everyday customs that come naturally to the Italian girls. They feel awkward. The Italian girls huddle together, then walk over to the Americans and tell them about an experience they had at a Church-sponsored event in Florence last year. “One of the members of our group did not speak Italian, so we decided to go through a whole day without speaking, using only hand signs. When the day ended, we all felt much closer to each other.” Soon both Americans and Italians are talking and singing together. It is a beginning.

During the winter of 1846–47, when the Saints were at Winter Quarters preparing for their long and difficult trek across the plains, my grandfather, Heber C. Kimball, for twenty-one years a counselor to Brigham Young, was one of them. During that winter the Lord declared in a revelation to President Young, “My people must be tried in all things, that they may be prepared to receive the glory that I have for them, even the glory of Zion; and he that will not bear chastisement is not worthy of my kingdom.” (D&C 136:31; italics added.)
Few miracles in our history exceed that of establishing our settlements in a desolate land no one else wanted and then making the desert blossom as a rose. Our people not only survived but flourished because of their faith and their family solidarity. Our pioneer character was molded in the crucible of hard work, sacrifice, pulling together, and depending upon the Lord.

Moira nodded. Heavenly Father had helped her before. Like when she and Mamá had joined the Church a year ago.
Moira had been excited to tell her best friend, Dorita, about her baptism. But when Dorita’s parents found out, they wouldn’t let Dorita play with Moira anymore. Moira had felt so lonely.
But Heavenly Father helped her make new friends. On her very first Sunday at church, she saw a girl standing by the door.
“Hi,” the girl said. “I’m Carmen. Do you want to sit with me?” Soon Carmen and Moira became good friends.

Lisa had $3.50 to spend on supplies for her bird feeder. She bought a box of oatmeal for 70¢, sunflower seeds at 80¢ a pound, and suet from the butcher for $2.00. When she got home, she still had 40¢. How can that be?
Answer:

My sister danced around the kitchen in her lion costume, with black whiskers stuck on her face.
“Come on!” I hollered at her. “You’re supposed to help me set the table.”
“I’m practicing,” she said, spinning around perfectly on the linoleum floor. “My stomach is too wiggly to eat, anyhow.”
“It’s only a skating show,” I said. “It’s no big deal.”
“It’s the ‘Wizard of Oz,’” Laura declared, “and I’m going to be the lion. Come and see me.”
“I have plans,” I told her. I knew that the guys were going bowling, and there was no way that I was going to sit and freeze just to watch a bunch of seven-year-old kids skate. I finished setting the table by myself, and everybody sat down to eat.
“What’s for supper,” I asked Mom as she set a pot on the table.
“Mystery casserole,” she replied with a wink.
“Oh, great,” I mumbled. Mystery casserole was what Mom made when she was in a hurry and threw leftovers into a dish and baked it.
“We have to hurry tonight,” Dad said. “Laura has to be at the ice show in an hour. Are you coming with us, Son?”
“No,” I answered. “I already have other plans.”
“Fine,” Mom said. “You do what you think is important.”
I hate it when my mom says stuff like that. She makes me feel like I’m doing the wrong thing at the same time that she says to go ahead and do what I want. Besides, I’ve already spent the best years of my life watching Laura.
It all started when Mom began working part-time and I had to begin baby-sitting full-time. I gave Laura her snacks when I got home from school and her breakfast early Saturday morning, a real sacrifice on my part. I helped her put on her clothes and carted her around on my bicycle to baseball games. I even took her to one of my Boy Scout meetings. Then there had been that summer when Roger had invited me to go camping at the lake with his family for two whole weeks! Did I get to go? No! I had to watch Laura because Mom couldn’t find anyone else to do it. I had to stay home and build baby puzzles with Laura and help her tie her shoes. I had definitely gone above and beyond the call of duty as far as Laura was concerned.
Of course, I had been reimbursed for baby-sitting, and I liked Laura—most of the time. She was OK for a sister, but enough was enough.
The first game I bowled was lousy; I didn’t even break one hundred. The guys razzed me and asked me if I needed a handicap. I blamed it on the bowling ball and went to pick out a different one. I didn’t do much better the next game. I couldn’t seem to concentrate. Instead, I kept watching the clock. I knew that the skating show would be starting in thirty minutes, and I wondered if Laura would be skating first.
“Come on, Michael,” Roger said. “You’re up.”
I picked up my ball and carefully stood in our lane, mentally counting my steps: One, two, three. I stepped forward and rolled the ball—right into the gutter.
The guys laughed. They thought that it was hilarious, and I knew that I’d be hearing about this game for the next week, at least. I looked up at the clock again. The ice show started in fifteen minutes. I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care and that I was just having an off night bowling. Then I told the guys that I had to leave and go to my sister’s ice show.
They said that I was lucky that I didn’t have to finish my game, because I’d set a new world record for the worst game ever bowled.
The ice arena was cold. I pulled my hat over my ears and stuffed my hands into my pockets. The place was packed, and I gave up looking for Mom and Dad. I found an empty seat by the door where all the skaters stepped out onto the ice.
Laura was easy to pick out in her tawny lion costume. I cheered extra loudly for her and held my breath while she did her loops and one last spin. She had almost finished when her skate tip caught the ice and she went down in a heap. She leaped up quickly and kept going like a real trooper, but I could see that her shoulders were sagging.
I waited by the dressing room door after the show, and she came out with her skates draped over her shoulder and her lion whiskers dangling crookedly.
“Did you see me?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “You did a great job.”
“I fell.”
“You got back up,” I told her, “and that’s what counts. Just wait till next year—you’ll be leaping through the air! I can tell.”
“I’m glad that you came,” Laura said, and she grabbed my hand.
“Of course I came,” I told her. “I couldn’t let you skate without your own private cheering section.”

Miss Fee pointed to the enormous paper tree hanging on the back wall of the fifth grade classroom. “What’s missing?” she asked.
“Leaves,” our class chanted together.
“You’re going to help it grow leaves,” she said as she held up a green paper maple leaf. “Each leaf has a place on it to write the name of a book, its author, and what it is about.”
Some of the kids started groaning, but Miss Fee kept smiling. “It’s going to be a contest,” she said.
“Whoever reads the most books this week and collects the most leaves will win first prize.”
Now she had our attention. Everyone likes contests, especially when there’s a prize.
“First prize is a gift certificate for a large pizza,” the teacher said, and the class started cheering.
“Quiet down, please,” Miss Fee instructed. She gave us the rules on how long the books had to be, and what kinds would be included.
I walked home after school with Susan. We each had checked out a couple of books to read.
“You’ll probably win,” Susan said. “No one reads books as fast as you do.”
“I love reading,” I said. “Once I get started, I can’t stop. In fact, Mom usually has to tell me to shut off the light and go to sleep at night.”
“Look!” Susan whispered to me. “Look at Robert.”
Up ahead, Robert carried a stack of six books. He didn’t have many friends. His shirts were a little too big and worn, and his pants had patches on them. He sat by himself at lunchtime and didn’t ever talk to anyone. Robert ignored all the kids, even when they teased him.
“Do you think you’re going to win?” Susan asked him, laughing.
Robert glanced up at us, then looked down again and hurried past us.
“Let’s go,” I said. I didn’t feel right provoking him, but I didn’t want to admit it.
The next night I stayed after school and headed for the library. I wanted to get a couple of books on fishing, which is the thing I love best, next to reading. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Standing in front of the fishing books was Robert, holding one about trout.
“That’s a good book,” I whispered. “I read it last week.”
Robert nodded and didn’t say anything. I think he was almost afraid of me.
“I want to get a book about making flies,” I added. “Dad said he’d help me learn how to tie one.”
Robert hesitated a second, then bent over and pulled a slim volume out from the bottom shelf. “This is the best book about that,” he said softly. “It helped me a lot.”
“Do you know how to tie flies?” I asked, surprised.
“My grandpa is teaching me. We both like fishing.”
“Me too,” I said. It was a good feeling to find someone else who liked the exact same thing. Susan didn’t like fishing.
“Getting lots of reading done?” I asked as I took the book he offered.
“I’m trying to,” Robert said. He paused for a second. “I want to win the contest so that I can take my mom out for a pizza and surprise her. It’s her birthday this Saturday.”
“That’s a neat idea,” I agreed. “Good luck.”
The next morning, I found a wadded up piece of paper in my desk. I almost tossed it out, when I saw the note:
To Mike,
My Grandpa tied this for you.
Robert
I opened up the crumpled paper, and inside was an artificial fly. I picked it up and examined how it had been expertly put together. After math class, I stopped Robert in the hallway. “Thanks,” I told him. “I can’t wait to try it out.”
Robert smiled. “My grandpa’s taking me fishing along Silver Creek Saturday morning. You’re welcome to come with us.”
Before I could say yes or no, Susan walked up. “Come on,” she said. “I want to show you the book I found about dinosaurs.”
I know I should have said something to Robert, but I didn’t want Susan to start teasing me, so I walked away. My stomach felt funny for the rest of the day whenever I thought about it.
On Friday afternoon, Miss Fee declared the contest over. She asked everyone to get out their completed leaves.
“Who has more than five?” she asked. Eleven hands went up in the air.
“How about more than ten?” Only four hands stayed up.
“More than twelve?” Just Robert and I still had our hands up.
“How many leaves do you have?” Miss Fee asked Robert.
“Fourteen,” Robert said proudly. I could see that everyone in the class was surprised.
At that moment, I decided what I wanted to do. I slipped one leaf back into my desk, and when Miss Fee asked me, I said I had thirteen. I guess I wanted Robert to win more than I wanted myself to. I could imagine him telling his mom about the pizza and how happy they’d both be.
When Miss Fee gave Robert the gift certificate, everyone started clapping. I clapped the loudest. After school, I waited by the front door for him.
“Dad said I could go fishing with you tomorrow if you still want company,” I told him.
Right then Susan came walking up. “We’re going fishing tomorrow,” I told her before I chickened out.
“Don’t you want to come over and play basketball?” she asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon, if I get my chores done after I get home,” I said. “I have to try out this new fly.” I took it out of my pocket to show her.
“Did you make that?” Susan asked.
“Robert’s grandpa made it. I’m going to ask him to show me how.”
“Think he’d show me?” she asked.
“Of course,” Robert said. Then he smiled and waved at us. “I have to get home and tell my mom about our pizza date.”
I waved and smiled too. Robert had the gift certificate, but I still felt like I had won first prize.

Seventeen-year-old Kathryn Broadribb loves to dance. She finds freedom in the flowing movements of classical and modern ballet, tap, jazz, contemporary, and national dance. Kathryn also finds a different kind of freedom in living the gospel.

Since Kathryn studies at the Northern Ballet School in Manchester, she lives away from her home in Norwich. Living away from home as a teenager might be too much responsibility for some people to take. But, like most other things, Kathryn handles it gracefully.

“The other girls from the ballet school live in a hostel and go pubbing and clubbing,” says Kathryn. “I don’t live close enough to be involved, and my friend Kate and I prefer church dances.”

Following the Word of Wisdom and keeping other commandments, like reading scriptures, helps give Kathryn the physical and mental strength to handle the rigors of her dance training.

“Often the pressure of it all is too much. I’ve wanted to give up a couple of times,” she admits. But it is what she wants and perseverance wins.

“All the pain is worth it when things go well and you pass your exams,” says Kathryn.

“Hurry!” seven-year-old Ryan called to his friend Ben as they burst through the door of Ryan’s house. He and Ben walked home from school together every day, and Ben stayed at Ryan’s house until his mother got home from work.
“Hi, Mom,” Ryan said, grabbing a slice of banana bread off of the counter.
Ryan’s mother smiled and handed Ben a slice of his own. She gave Ryan a hug as both boys dropped their backpacks and sped into the computer room. The boys were allowed 20 minutes of computer time when they came home from school, and they couldn’t wait to play their favorite game.
“It’s my turn first,” Ryan said. He flopped into the tall red chair and slid “Monster Trucks” into the computer. It was Ryan’s favorite game, and they played it every day.
“Yeeee-ha!” Ben shouted as he watched Ryan’s blue computer truck jump over three cars. Ryan gunned the truck up the side of a tall mountain.
Ben jumped up and down and yelled whenever Ryan’s truck did any death-defying stunt. But as Ben got more excited, he began yelling words that made Ryan frown. Ryan cringed as Ben took the Lord’s name in vain.
The day before, Ryan had spoken to his mother about Ben’s language.
“Ben and his family aren’t members of the Church,” his mother had explained, “so he doesn’t understand that it’s bad to say those words.”
Still, hearing Ben swear took all the fun out of the game. Then Ryan had an idea. What if he taught Ben that it was wrong to take the Lord’s name in vain?
The next time Ben swore, Ryan stopped playing and turned to face his friend. “It’s not nice to say those words,” he said.
Ben looked surprised.
Ryan moved out of the chair so Ben could take a turn on the computer. He said, “It’s called taking the Lord’s name in vain. It’s like insulting Him, and it hurts me to hear you do it.”
Ben shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll stop saying them.” Then he grabbed the computer controls and clicked on his red truck.
Ben used good language for the rest of the afternoon, and Ryan’s smile grew bigger and bigger. He and Ben were best friends, and he was sure that Ben would try hard not to take the Lord’s name in vain again. Now this wouldn’t stand in the way of either their fun or their friendship.

Joseph Sr. preceded Lucy and the children to Palmyra. By the time the family was reunited, their ready money had been reduced to a few cents. But that arrival showed two important traits of the family. First was their unconcealed joy at being reunited. Lucy wrote that she felt joy “in throwing myself and my children upon the care and affection of a tender husband and father” and witnessing the children “surround their father, clinging to his neck and covering his face with tears and kisses that were heartily reciprocated by him.” And second was a united approach to solving their problems. Lucy said, “We all now sat down and maturely counseled together as to what course it was best to take [and] how we should proceed to business.” Joseph Sr., Alvin, and Hyrum worked to pay for land. To maintain home and to replenish provisions, Lucy, aided by Sophronia and the younger children, took care of household chores and sold Lucy’s oilcloth art. They also made baked goods and root beer, which young Joseph sold in the village from a homemade handcart.
The family’s united effort greatly improved their material circumstances. Two years after arriving in Palmyra as “strangers, destitute of friends, home, or employment,” Lucy wrote, “we were able to settle ourselves upon our own land [in] a snug, comfortable, though humble habitation, built and neatly furnished by our own industry.”

Sometimes making a difference is as easy as saying one sentence. A couple of years ago, before the beginning of the girls’ basketball season, Sue said, “Let’s say a prayer.” They followed her suggestion before that first game, and it became a habit. “I always said the prayer before every game. Sometimes I would say, ‘Doesn’t someone else want to offer the prayer today?’ And a couple of times someone else would. But most of the time, the team would all be standing around waiting for me, calling, ‘Sue, come and say the prayer.’”

Last December, I had an accident. I fell on the street and broke my hip on both sides and my right arm. This has been one of my greatest trials because it kept me in bed, and I couldn’t walk for more than seven months. They put a hip prosthetic on one side, and the doctor decided to wait until I could walk before they put the other one in. I am still struggling with this challenge today, but I’m not facing it alone. I know my Savior has been by my side every day and always will be. This time, I prayed to help me regain my health so I could continue to enjoy the blessings of going to the temple and serving others. Many people have come to support and assist me. I’ve learned to be humble, recognize my weaknesses, and accept the service they have given me.

I think of her. I think of my father. I think of all those General Authorities who’ve influenced me, and others, including the widows whom I visited—85 of them—with a chicken for the oven, sometimes a little money for their pocket.
I visited one late one night. It was midnight, and I went to the nursing home, and the receptionist said, “I’m sure she’s asleep, but she told me to be sure to awaken her, for she said, ‘I know he’ll come.’”
I held her hand; she called my name. She was wide awake. She pressed my hand to her lips and said, “I knew you’d come.” How could I not have come?

On June 23, 2009, the Philippines experienced a typhoon. That afternoon, our area was placed under a severe storm warning. The rest of that day and into the night, we heard something banging on our rooftop. When my son asked what it was, I told him it was our santol tree being whipped by the wind.
I regretted not picking the santol’s sweet fruit a day earlier, as I had planned. But my mother had told me the fruit wasn’t ripe yet and to leave it alone.
At 5:00 a.m. I went outside to look at the tree, fearing to see all the fruit on the ground. I couldn’t see into the tree—it was still dark outside—but I did see four small fruits scattered around our backyard.
An hour later I again inspected the tree. To my delight I saw many big, yellow-green fruit still clinging to the branches. Collecting those that had fallen, I noted that two of them had brownish lesions at the bottom. Black speckles discolored the other one, and the last was misshapen and warty in appearance.
I had expected the bigger, heavier fruit to have fallen; they were twice as big as the ones I collected. But there they were: still securely hanging on to the tree.

I am an avid reader of the New Era, and I have been reading it since November of 1985 when my friends gave me a gift subscription. How wonderful it is to have friends like them. If it had not been for them, I still might not know about the New Era. As I read the New Era I get a happy feeling inside of me. I have come to realize how hard it really is to become as perfect as I want to be, but I will keep trying. I want to express my thanks to Brother and Sister Cullimore for giving me all the wonderful stories and poems that come to me as a result of their gift subscription.
Marites BautistaPhilippines

When I was younger, I had trouble falling asleep each night. It was frustrating to be so tired and still not be able to rest.
I talked to my parents about my struggle, and they suggested I switch out my pillows, move my head to the other side of the bed, and not be near any electronic devices before bedtime. But even after following their advice, I still couldn’t sleep!
Then my dad gave me one more suggestion that changed everything. He said, “When you say your nighttime prayers, just talk to Heavenly Father.”
So night after night, I began talking to Heavenly Father about my day. I would start with when I woke up and talk about everything that happened until right when I was in my bed. I told Him about people I saw, blessings I was grateful for, how pretty it was outside, and things that made me feel happy. I also told Him about things that were sad, like if I hurt my leg or made a mistake.
I wasn’t able to fall asleep right away, but I noticed that my relationship with my Heavenly Father was strengthening. He listened to me. He understood my high points and my low ones. He helped me feel calm enough to eventually fall asleep each night.
I am so grateful I could talk to Heavenly Father during those sleepless nights. I know He loves me and helps me, even with small things like helping me sleep.
Alyssa B., 19, Virginia, USA

In the early days of his mission in Great Britain, a young Elder Gordon B. Hinckley felt considerable discouragement. President Hinckley’s biographer, Sheri Dew, has written:
“After he had taken as much as he felt he could, Elder Hinckley wrote his father that he wasn’t getting anywhere with missionary work, and that he couldn’t see the point in wasting his time and his father’s money. Responding as both father and stake president, Bryant Hinckley sent a reply that was brief and to the point: ‘Dear Gordon, I have your recent letter. I have only one suggestion: forget yourself and go to work.’
“Earlier that day [Elder Hinckley] and his companion had studied the promise recorded in the Gospels: ‘For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel’s, the same shall save it’ (Mark 8:35).
“That scripture, combined with his father’s counsel, seared his soul. With the letter in hand, he went into his upstairs bedroom at 15 Wadham Road and got on his knees. As he poured out his heart to the Lord, he promised that he would try to forget himself and lose himself in the Lord’s service. Many years later [President Hinckley] indicated the significance of that series of events: ‘That July day in 1933 was my day of decision. A new light came into my life and a new joy into my heart. The fog of England seemed to lift, and I saw the sunlight. Everything good that has happened to me since then I can trace back to the decision I made that day in Preston’” (Go Forward with Faith, 64).
Elder Gordon B. Hinckley, had “decided to decide.”

I think that I’ll do lots of the same things that you’ve done. I want to go on a mission and be a good missionary like you. You said that I should memorize all the Articles of Faith. Last week I finished the last one! And so far I’ve saved more than $220 for my mission.
I’ve tried to learn other things for my mission too. Mom showed me how to mend, and I sewed a button back on my shirt and helped her sew the banner for your welcome-home party. She also showed me how to wash and iron my clothes and how to cook some things. I helped her and Kelly and Natalie make some of the food for your party. We had fun making Missionary’s Heavenly Trifle.* We used white cake and vanilla pudding and pears and bananas and coconut and marshmallows and white chocolate chips. Kelly says that everything in it is white because it’s “ready to harvest.” She says that that’s what missionaries do—they harvest people because “the field is white already to harvest” (D&C 4:4).

A few weeks before leaving to serve a full-time mission, I went to visit the home of an old friend who was not a member of the Church. I intended to stay for just a few minutes, but due to a heavy rainstorm, I had to stay longer than anticipated. So my friend, his mother, and I sat down and began to talk about the Church and my upcoming mission.
I explained that I might be assigned to serve in cities such as Rio de Janeiro, Belo Horizonte, or Brasília.
For some reason, my friend’s mother decided to give me the address of her sister who lived in a town near Rio de Janeiro. She said that I should go and visit her if I were ever sent there.
I left for my mission on July 7, 1982. I served in many different cities, including one near the place my friend’s aunt lived. I thought about visiting her, but her home was not in my area. I didn’t tell the missionaries assigned to that area about her because I was still hoping I would be able to go myself.
At that time, missionaries served for 18 months. The time passed without seeing my friend’s aunt and her family.
Years later, while attending a ward social, I happened to see my nonmember friend. I learned that he had been invited by one of his relatives, an aunt named Etiene who had recently been baptized into the Church. I then found out that Aunt Etiene had just moved into our ward from the state of Rio de Janeiro. I quickly came to love his aunt Etiene, and we loved to talk together about our memories of Rio de Janeiro. To my embarrassment, I learned that she was the same woman I wanted to visit during my mission. She had been baptized only recently, after the unexpected death of her husband.
Fortunately, she has forgiven me for not encouraging other missionaries to visit her. However, she was disappointed over the time she lost while she was not enjoying the blessings of the gospel.

Elder Marcus B. Nash, First Counselor in the Africa West Area Presidency, presided over the semi-annual conference of the Accra Ghana Adenta Stake held on January 20 and 21, 2018.
As part of the conference, the Adenta Stake was divided due to an extraordinary growth in membership. Daniel Kabason was released as president of the Adenta Stake, as were his counselors. With the leadership reorganization of the Adenta Stake, the Accra Ghana Madina Stake was created. The new Madina Stake is the 23rd stake created in Ghana. It is also the 95th stake organized in West Africa since the Church was introduced in 1978.
The newly called Adenta Stake president is Michel Djimedo Avegnon, with first counselor James Belale Yeri, and Richard Paapa Dadzie as second counselor. Samuel Enos Eghan was called as president of the Madina Stake. Yaw Adjin Danso will serve as first counselor, with Edwin Kobina Ewudzie as second counselor of the Madina Stake.
Elder Marcus B. Nash commented on the historic Sunday morning event. “This conference was a sweet confluence of the faith of the pioneer members, current members, as well as the faith of the rising generation,” Elder Nash said.
“We enjoyed the simple and powerful testimony of Brother Opare, the first stake president in Accra,” said Elder Nash. “As a result of the humility and faith of those who have gone before, the faithful labors of inspired and capable leaders today, and with the help of parents and children who choose to obey the Lord, the Adenta and Madina stakes will contribute in miraculous ways to the Church, both in Africa and throughout the world.”

When the city of St. George, Utah, decided to designate historic sites with white picket fences, it called for volunteers from the community to help. The young women from the St. George Third Ward were quick to lend a hand to a young Boy Scout who needed help with his Eagle project by painting fences—and each other!
The project gave the girls a chance to get to know each other while they provided a service to their town.