Gospel Story Finder

Born on September 8, 1873, in Huntsville, Utah, David Oman McKay was the first son of David McKay and Jennette Evans McKay. When the younger David was just seven years old, his father accepted a mission call to serve in Scotland—even though at the time Sister McKay was expecting a baby and had only her young son to help on the farm. Her encouragement was undoubtedly a key factor. As soon as she read the missionary call letter, she said: “Of course you must accept; you need not worry about me. David O. and I will manage things nicely.”2
Under Jennette’s direction the farm did well. Strong spiritual growth paralleled the temporal prosperity the family experienced during David Sr.’s mission. “Family prayer was an established procedure in the McKay home, and when Jennette was left alone with her small family it seemed an ever more important part of the day’s events. David [O.] was taught to take his turn at morning and evening prayers and learned the importance of the blessings of heaven in the home.”3

I want to thank you for “Around Town Down Under” in the October 1982 issue. That article had special meaning for me because that same month I spent two weeks touring Australia. Many of the photographs printed in that article were of places I had been, and I was excited to show my parents the places I had been rather than just tell them about them. I am grateful for this fine magazine because it helps me to live the gospel and prepares me for the future.
Jamie GourleyWest Valley City, Utah

When I forget to do my chores, I can say I’m sorry.
Did you remember to clean your room?
I’m sorry, Mom. I forgot. I’ll do it right now.

As I began preparing my first general conference talk, I realized what a daunting task that can be! Speakers in general conference are not assigned topics, so I needed to discover for myself what the Lord would have me say.
I prayed and waited for direction. After some time, my wife, Isabelle, who is wise and knows me well, saw me struggling to begin.
“Look, you have got to do something,” she said. “Get started and write something!”
That is what I did. In the process, I started six or seven possible talks. As I pondered the various possibilities, I became comfortable with one of them and felt it was the talk I should give. The Spirit settled my mind, and the rest of the talk flowed.

“When I got there, there were older people walking around in white,” said one girl. “It was so neat to see these older people who are still married, because my parents are divorced. They’re so sweet together, holding hands. It shows how things can be eternal.”

“I used to do the right things out of habit,” says Raquel Alonzo, 17. “I was raised in the Church, and because I had been taught to choose the right, I did. But I didn’t really feel it in my heart. One day while talking to my mom, I truly felt the Lord’s Spirit.” Her mother told her about huge sacrifices she had made as a young woman to be faithful to the gospel and to serve a mission, even though she was going against her father’s wishes. “She said the only reason she is so happy now is that she was smart enough to cling to the Savior throughout her life. At that moment, my testimony grew more than ever. I am a child of God, and Heavenly Father loves me. Even if the world falls in on me, He is going to help me.”

Called to the Brazil Cuiabá Mission, Randy and Lou Ellen Romrell of Utah were concerned. Although Elder Romrell had served in Brazil as a young missionary, he’d let his Portuguese slip. And Sister Romrell didn’t know Portuguese. Study and effort, however, helped Elder Romrell’s Portuguese skills to return and Sister Romrell’s to grow. So did a ukulele.
“I wasn’t really planning to bring it,” Sister Romrell says, “but Elder Romrell was inspired to, and it’s amazing to see what it’s done. As we teach investigators and work on reactivation and fellowship, it’s fun to use it to get people to sing hymns. We learn the language, and the hymns bring a strong spirit with them.”
Even though her Portuguese skills are still developing, she is already fluent in music. “Music brings people together,” she says. “Even if I can’t understand everything they say during a visit, when we sing, we connect.” Invited to speak in schools about the American holiday of Thanksgiving, the Romrells sang hymns of gratitude—accompanied by ukulele. And Sister Romrell also uses a more conventional instrument, the piano, to accompany hymns at church.
And Portuguese? “Even if you’re not fluent, learning just a few words helps,” she says. “Simply saying hello and greeting people goes a long way. Let them know you’re learning. Make it simple and rely on the Spirit.” And the Spirit, of course, is another language everyone can share.

Katy’s eyes widened. She pointed to the rug Nana was braiding.
“Do you remember all about the cloth in this rug?”
Nana smiled. “You bet I do! This red piece is from the dress I wore when you were born. I remember pressing my nose to the glass window in the nursery to get a closer look at you. You were still all pink and wrinkly.”
Katy and Nana laughed together as Nana continued to tell Katy stories from the rug.

If you’re ever asked how you’re dating, I hope that “intentionally” is one of your first responses. Let me try and illustrate this with an example.
More than half of my and my wife’s time dating was long-distance. I met Catherine while we were in school in Santiago, Chile. We started dating, but she moved back home to Antofagasta before I finished my degree. Because we wanted our relationship to develop, once or twice a month, I made the 20-hour bus ride back to Antofagasta on Thursday afternoons, spent weekends with Catherine (including church services), and took the bus another 20 hours back to Santiago to be at my 8:00 a.m. class on Monday morning.
On the days we couldn’t be together, we talked on the phone. Since we didn’t have cell phones at that time, I bought a phone plan that allowed me to make unlimited calls on public phones. I spent hours tethered to a phone booth, and if anyone else needed to use it, I would have to hang up and call Catherine back as soon as they were done.
Throughout this experience, because of the many obstacles in our relationship, I had to learn to be intentional about how I communicated with Catherine.

Carly W. from Rexburg, Idaho, USA, is a busy helper. At home Carly helps out by taking care of her family’s cats, dogs, and chickens. Because Carly is one of the best students in her class at school, she helps other children with math and reading. In Primary, Carly’s singing helps other children to feel the Spirit.
Because Carly has done such a good job helping others, some of her friends decided to help her too.
Carly was born with a disease called spina bifida. This disease makes it hard for Carly to use all of her muscles. Doing things like walking on uneven ground and climbing up stairs can be hard for her. At school, Carly wasn’t able to play on the playground because the playground equipment was hard for her to use. There were other children who also couldn’t play on the playground equipment.
“Sometimes I felt bad and frustrated at recess because I couldn’t play on the playground,” Carly says.
One of Carly’s friends, Halli Jo, and Halli Jo’s mom decided to earn money to build a playground that Carly and all the other students at the school could use.
Halli Jo, her mom, and a lot of other people worked to earn money for the new playground. It took a lot of work, but they were able to earn enough money to build a new playground that all the students could play on.
“It was a lot of hard work,” Halli Jo says. “But it never made me sad to do the work—it just made me love Carly more.”
Carly is happy to be able to play on the playground with her friends. She says, “I like walking up the ramps and going down the slides. Me and my friends have fun together.”

Jamie closed the shed door quietly and carried the heavy pail down the snow-covered trail to the deer feeding station. Carefully, he made three small piles of corn about six feet apart. Then, looking around, Jamie smiled and started up the trail to the warm cabin. He knew the deer had been watching him.
Jamie knocked the snow from his boots and, looking once more toward the white birch forest, slipped inside the cabin.
High in the loft where Jamie slept was a wide window close to the floor where he could watch the deer come to feed.
Jamie had named the doe and her fawns Mama, Flag, and Stomper. He had watched the fawns grow since spring when they were tiny, wobbly creatures no taller than the brush where they bedded down at night.
Ever since Jamie had named them, he had waited for the day when he would be able to feed them by hand and play with them and call them by name. But Jamie’s father had said it couldn’t be. “Animals in the wild must protect themselves from danger, and humans are a very great danger,” he explained. “If Flag and Stomper became your friends, they might not fear a hunter. We can feed the deer during the winter, but we must not make pets of them. They need to feel fear to survive.”
Jamie understood. He wanted his forest friends to survive. But he felt that somehow, someway, he could show the deer that he alone was their friend.
Later, as he watched from his window in the loft, the deer came out of the forest. First came Mama, slowly sniffing the wind and moving her ears to catch every sound. Then Flag bounced into the clearing and went straight to the corn. Stomper, Jamie knew, would wait out of sight in the brush. Then, when Flag and Mama were eating, he would appear at the far corn pile and stomp his feet—THUMP, THUMP, THUMP—while he ate.
All afternoon a fine snow fell, and by evening three more inches of it were added to the snow already on the ground.
After supper Jamie slipped on his heavy woolen jacket and his warm boots and stepped out into the cold winter night. The bright white light of the February moon cast long shadows as he walked down the wooded trail. He stopped and looked back at the cabin. The yellow orange light from the windows shone brightly on the white birches, on the snow-covered woodpile, and on the more distant snow-covered lake.
CRUNCH!
Jamie turned his head and listened. He pulled his hood back and listened again … THUMP, THUMP.
Jamie held his breath. Can it be? he wondered. It sounds like …
THUMP, THUMP. It was louder now, and Jamie’s heart beat faster as he tried to catch his breath. He knew what it was—who it was. Not moving a muscle, Jamie waited for it to come closer.
THUMP, THUMP.
“Stomper?” Jamie breathed quietly the name of his favorite deer. “Stomper?” He turned ever so slowly and waited, holding his breath. “Stomper?” he whispered again.
Then, as though he had been there all the while, as though he were a part of the frozen ground and snow-covered trees, Stomper appeared not ten feet away.
“Stomper,” Jamie whispered once more, letting his breath out slowly.
Stomper stood erect and tall, his eyes fixed on Jamie. The deer picked up his right leg, bent it, and—THUMP—stomped his foot hard on the frozen ground. Jamie dared not move, though he desperately wanted to touch the deer, just once.
Stomper moved one step toward Jamie! And then another! The deer stretched out its neck so close to Jamie that Jamie could hear him breathe. Jamie reached out slowly. Stomper didn’t move.
All of a sudden there was a terrific snort, a whistling snort, and Stomper wheeled about. “Mama!” Jamie gasped as the doe rushed toward Stomper, kicking her front feet and rearing up at the young deer.
“Jamie!” It was his father’s voice. “Come here, Son.” His father was crouched by the side of the trail.
Stomper and his mother bounded through the forest and stopped some distance away.
“Dad! You knew! And Stomper’s mother knew too!”
“Jamie,” his father said, “I guess both of us parents knew what would happen if you two had an encounter,” he said sympathetically. Putting his arm around Jamie’s shoulder, his father walked with him back to the cabin.
High up on the hill, the deer stood and watched the man and his son walking back to the lighted cabin. The doe licked the face of her little buck, and they turned and walked slowly into the winter forest.

In 1982, because of my continued alcohol abuse, my wife, who had never failed in her faith, filed for divorce. At the time my family was living in Oklahoma, USA, but I had returned to Illinois, USA, where I had been raised. I had reached the point where I was about to lose the only thing that truly mattered to me: my family.
I began praying on my knees morning and evening to a God who I was no longer sure existed or, if He did, I figured He had long ago forgotten me. Yet for three months I prayed faithfully. Early one morning, while I was deep in prayer, a feeling of great relief came upon me and I knew that God lived, that He knew me, and that He loved me. I also knew I would never touch another drop of alcohol.
That very evening I received a call from my wife to let me know she was going to mail me the divorce papers to sign. During that conversation she suddenly said, “There is something very different about you. I don’t believe you are ever going to drink again, and I am going to tear up these papers.” We reunited, and two years later she gave birth to our third son.

“What does ‘Families Are Forever’ mean?” Mia asked. She moved her game piece across the board. She and her best friend, Zoey, were playing a game in Zoey’s living room. On the wall was a picture that said, “Families Are Forever.” Mia liked the sound of that.
“It means that even after you die, you’re still a family,” Zoey explained. She put down a card and moved her game piece.
Mia looked around the room. It looked normal. There were couches, tables, pillows, and a TV. But Zoey’s house felt different from her own. “Do you have a forever family?” Mia asked.
Zoey looked up from the game with a smile. “Yes! My mom and dad were married in the temple. So we can be together forever.”
“Is that why your house feels different?” Mia asked.
Zoey looked confused. “Different?”
Mia didn’t know how to explain the feeling in Zoey’s house. It was happy and warm. But that sounded silly to say. “Never mind,” she said. “Let’s keep playing.”
That night Mia couldn’t stop thinking about Zoey’s forever family. She loved the feeling in Zoey’s house. Mia’s family was going to move to Ontario, Canada, in a few days. She wondered how their new house would feel.
“Mom, Zoey’s house feels so happy,” Mia said as Mom tucked her into bed. “I want our new house to feel like that.” Mia thought about how much she loved Mom, Dad, and her little brothers. “I want our family to be forever too.”
Mom listened quietly. Then she said, “I do too.”
The next day, Mom called Zoey’s mom. She found out that Zoey’s family went to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“I want to go to that church,” Mia told her parents while they packed. Their house was almost empty now.
“Zoey’s mom said she could help us find a church building,” Dad said as he taped up a box.
Mia smiled and felt a flutter in her stomach. Maybe their new house could feel as warm and happy as Zoey’s!
Once they were settled in their new house, Mia’s family started going to church. The people there were very nice. Everyone called each other “Brother” and “Sister.” Mia went to Primary with her little brothers. She loved singing songs and reading the scriptures.
Soon two young women came to Mia’s house. Their names were Sister Justin and Sister Ramos, and they were missionaries. They told Mia’s family about Heavenly Father, Jesus, and the Book of Mormon. Mia loved hearing about the gospel. Even her brothers sat quietly and listened!
Mia told Sister Ramos and Sister Justin about Zoey’s house. “I want a forever family like Zoey’s.”
“Heavenly Father wants all of us to have forever families,” Sister Ramos said with a big smile. “He wants us to be happy.”
Soon Mia’s family decided to be baptized.
Zoey and her family drove all the way to Ontario for the baptisms. A year later, they came back again. This time it was because Mia and her family were being sealed in the temple!
The day of the sealing, Mia stood outside the temple with her family, dressed in white. They were all smiling from ear to ear. Mia felt warm and peaceful inside. “We’re a forever family now!” she said happily.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “We’re a forever family.”

When I was a teenager, I decided to invite the Savior into my life by being baptized and becoming a member of the Church. My friends were good examples to me. So was my grandmother. She was a temple worker in the Los Angeles California Temple. She would leave our house at 4:00 in the morning to serve the Lord in the temple.
Just two years after I was baptized, I decided I wanted to serve the Lord as a full-time missionary. On my mission, I helped many people learn about the Savior so that they could invite Him into their lives.

Last fall I found myself with a wonderful but challenging opportunity to develop and teach Primary training through a video made entirely in Spanish. At one time in my life I was a Spanish speaker, but recently I had been speaking Portuguese and knew what it would take to relearn Spanish. I did all the things each of you do to complete a task that feels extremely difficult. I found help from capable and dedicated Hispanic sisters. Together we studied, prayed, fasted, and worked long hours. The day arrived to go and do the thing the Lord had asked, and we not only were fearful but felt our work was inadequate. We had worked up to the moment of delivery, and nothing more could be done. I wanted to start over.
Each of our husbands gave us priesthood blessings, and peace and calm started to come. Like angels, help came in the form of a sweet husband who set the alarm on his watch so he could pray for me every half hour during the recording, a cameraman whose eyes radiated “Good job,” and Primary leaders who had confidence in the workings of the Spirit and were able to communicate that with power. We ended up with a finished film that was helpful for our Spanish-speaking leaders. All who participated in it were partly surprised and entirely grateful for its success. We walked as far as we could go, and when we thought we might abandon our carts and drop by the wayside, angels somehow pushed from behind.

I wish I could be like a dragonfly
And not bother with dressing at all;
Then I’d just grow a larger suit
When my old one became too small.
If I could be like a dragonfly,
My small suit would gently split,
And I’d just wiggle and jiggle around
And step right out of it.
Underneath there would be a suit
That would fit me to a tee!
If I could have grow-on clothes
How pleasant that would be!

Often I have felt the priesthood power, power outside myself, moving through me to the person being blessed. I remember blessing a young mother who came seeking renewed strength to endure a difficult pregnancy with her third or fourth child. She had great faith, and as I blessed her as her bishop, I felt power streaming down my arms and through my fingers into the crown of her head. I felt it course through her body, even to the tips of her toes. It was a powerful, cleansing, rejuvenating force, almost electric in its energy, yet calm and soft and assuring. After the blessing, she arose, and with tears in her eyes said, “I felt that all the way to the tips of my toes.”

“Kent?” I whispered into the dark, but my brother was already asleep. Just minutes ago we had raced downstairs, said our prayers, and hopped into bed. How could he fall asleep so fast?
“Kent!”
Still nothing.
I squirmed down under my covers until my eyes barely peeped out above my cowboy blanket.
I glanced to the left. There was my favorite stuffed animal. It should have made me feel better. But my stomach flip-flopped inside of me. What if a tiger crept out of the laundry room next door?
I glanced to the right. There was the hat I got at an amusement park this summer. But my heart was thump-thumping. What if spiders attacked from under the porch?
I glanced up. Hanging from the ceiling were the model airplanes Dad and I had pieced together and painted so carefully. I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined them flying above me at night, warning me of danger.
My eyes popped open. I had an idea! On the dresser by my bed was a picture of Jesus that I had gotten in Primary. Slowly I reached out and propped up the picture. The light from our nightlight seemed to make the words at the bottom of the picture glow.
I am the way. Come and follow me.
I rolled onto my side so that I could see the picture and read those words again and again. I looked at Jesus’s hands and thought about how He blessed little children. My stomach stopped flip-flopping. I looked at Jesus’s feet and thought about how He went to find people who needed help. My heart stopped thump-thumping. I looked at Jesus’s face and thought about how He knew my name.
Tigers and spiders faded from my mind as I snuggled into my blankets. Heavenly Father and Jesus loved me! I felt warm and peaceful and safe.
And very, very sleepy.

Even though Corey was constantly busy with his academic studies and activities such as debate and drama, he made the choice to attend early morning seminary. He knew he would have to give up something, and that something was swimming. By then he knew he wanted to focus on academics, and that made dropping swimming much easier. Seminary, on the other hand, was too valuable. Corey says, “I’ve known all my life that I would take seminary. It is very helpful in understanding the scriptures. If you study the scriptures every day, you come to a better understanding of what they are all about.”

My brothers and sisters, it’s difficult for me to believe that it was 71 years ago, in 1948, that I was a missionary in England and 44 years ago that my wife, Barbara, and I took our family to Canada when I was the president of the Canada Toronto Mission. While serving there in April 1976, I was called to the First Quorum of the Seventy, and unexpectedly in 1985, I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. Unlike my previous callings, which included future releases, my release from my calling to the Twelve is not the best option right now; however, I pray that day will come only after I have finished all the Lord has called me to do.