Gospel Story Finder

When my dear wife returned home to our Heavenly Father, it was necessary for our family to find a suitable grave site. In doing so, I faced opposition when I wanted to have the term resting place included on the gravestone. The term did not meet the cemetery management’s policy.
Thus ensued a tenacious struggle. At one point the minister of the church to which the cemetery grounds belonged asked about the term. I was able to bear my testimony that I believe in the literal resurrection of the body, quoting the Savior: “All that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life” (John 5:28–29). I testified that this grave is a sacred resting place for us until the Resurrection.
Then the minister made an inspired suggestion: “Have the following words inscribed on the gravestone: ‘The Bohne and Lehmann families are resting here in anticipation of the Resurrection.’ ” So it was done. And with that, my testimony was chiseled in stone.

I’m not as tall as John is,
nor even Mary Jo.
The fact is, I am shorter
than most kids whom I know.
Neighbors whisper words such
as “tiny,” “little,” “small.”
But today while I worked with my dad,
He said, “Good!”And I felt tall.

Another sacrifice I was spiritually guided to make was my job. Before I joined the Church, I worked in a pub, and although no gospel teachings go against this, I didn’t feel good about it. I started searching for a new job and found one rather quickly at a restaurant that serves very little alcohol and is managed by one of the kindest families I have ever met!

Fire!: The Library Is Burning Books, many whose value was beyond price, were either burned to ashes or were being destroyed by the very water that put the fire out. This is the story of the fire and of people, from kindergartners to food scientists, who did what they could for the library.Barry D. Cytron9 years and up

Elizabeth is very tenderhearted, and can’t stand to see anyone being hurt, even in movies or on television. Someday she wants to work with people who don’t have any houses or food or water. When Brother Gould gave her a name and a blessing, he felt impressed to say that she would be an ambassador of peace and gifted in language. She is indeed gifted in language, with a vocabulary beyond her years. She studies French and speaks it with her father, who learned the language on his mission.

Lisa Benham, 17, helped a blind lady through the temple at the open house. “I put the booties on her feet and went through the temple with her and her dog. She felt the walls, and I was tingling inside as the purpose of the temple was explained to her. I wondered if she would accept the gospel. It was a very special feeling.”

Early in my youth, I was counseled in a blessing to stay close to my mother and to keep her advice near me, and I would be safe. I have always remembered that, but I often wondered about it because it was my father who seemed to give most of the advice. Then one winter when I was in the seventh grade, I had blood poisoning and became quite ill. My father was traveling at the time—in the summer he farmed, and in the winter he traveled, selling livestock feed. It was during this period that mother gave me some important counsel. It concerned moral cleanliness, and I’ll always be grateful for that advice. It helped me to set some personal standards early in my life.

Sunny is an exchange student from Korea. She is living in a strange new land with a new language and a new family. School was hard and she had no friends to eat with or talk with or go to school activities with. She said: “I felt so miserable. Then I started thinking about praying. I had not thought about praying for help to Heavenly Father and for comfort and faith in myself. Then I began to read the Book of Mormon every morning and pray before I went to school. School began to be much easier. I was so surprised that I could understand better! I felt like someone was helping me while I was studying” (letter in possession of Young Women office).

Just two weeks ago, I was sending e-mail, or electronic messages, through our personal computer in our apartment in Tokyo, Japan, to a nephew in China; a son in Pocatello, Idaho; and another nephew in Longview, Washington. In the midst of formulating these e-mail messages, a miracle occurred. Our son-in-law in Salt Lake City sent us an instant, on-screen e-mail message. He simply asked, “Are you there?” I immediately responded, “I am here.” And we “spoke” with one another via the miracle of e-mail.

I had a new coat and was eager to wear it to school the next day. I couldn’t wait for my friends to see it.
While I was playing outside for recess, a boy laughed at my new coat and made fun of it. At first I was really angry and hurt and wanted to say something mean back to make him feel bad. But then I remembered the lesson I had in my Primary class. My teacher taught us that in Old Testament times, the law was an eye for an eye. But when Jesus Christ came to earth, He taught about love and about how important it is to forgive someone when they do something mean or bad.
After I remembered my Primary lesson and thought about what Jesus would want me to do, I decided to just turn around and walk away. I know it was better to forgive the boy than to say something mean back. I felt good inside because I had made the right choice.

In 2011, while I was serving with my husband as mission leaders in beautiful Curitiba, Brazil, my phone rang during a meeting. Rushing to silence it, I noticed the call was from my father. I quickly left the meeting to answer: “Hi, Dad!”

Unexpectedly, his voice was filled with emotion: “Hi, Bonnie. I need to tell you something. I’ve been diagnosed with ALS.”

My mind swirled with confusion, “Wait! What is ALS?”

Dad was already explaining, “My mind will stay alert while my body slowly shuts down.”

I felt my whole world shift as I began to wrestle with the implications of this grievous news. But on that unforgettable day, it was his last sentence that found a permanent place in my heart. My dear father said with urgency, “Bonnie, never give up an opportunity to testify of Christ.”

I have pondered and prayed over Dad’s counsel. I have often asked myself if I fully know what it means to never give up an opportunity to testify of Jesus Christ.

Yet this plea felt more personal! It seemed as though he was saying, “Bonnie, don’t let the world overtake you! Stay true to your covenants with the Savior. Seek to experience His blessings every day, and be able to testify through the Holy Ghost of His power and presence in your life!”

My father has been gone for over 11 years now, but his words are alive in me. “Bonnie, never give up an opportunity to testify of Christ.” I invite you to join me in accepting his invitation. Look for Christ everywhere?I promise He is there! True joy rests on our willingness to come closer to Christ and witness for ourselves.

When he was twenty-four years old, John had the opportunity to migrate to Canada to join his family, who had moved there two years before.
Before John’s ship left the English Channel, however, there was a horrible storm. Many people on the ship got sick as the storm tossed the ship from side to side.
Ships all around John’s were being destroyed by the storm, and the officers and crew of his ship prepared for the worst.
But John wasn’t worried. He even walked calmly around the deck at midnight during the raging storm! He knew that he had a work to do in Canada, and he trusted Heavenly Father to protect him so that he could do that work.

Sue Ann wants to share the gospel with as many people as she can. Recently a friend of hers, Elouise Meyers, finished the missionary discussions and was baptized. Sue Ann explained, “I had an appointment with my bishop and decided to take a buddy with me. I took Elouise. I knew she didn’t know much about the Church. While we were waiting for the bishop, the missionaries walked by. I asked them if they were teaching anyone that night. They answered, ‘No.’ ‘Well,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you teach my friend?’ They set up an appointment.”

The Empty Pot, by Demi. All the children are given the task of growing the most beautiful flower from a seed given them by the emperor. See what Ping does when his seed won’t grow.

In high school, most of my classmates invited me to drink alcohol and watch pornography. I always said no because I do what the Savior wants me to do. I remember Him and keep my covenants. Sometimes my friends and classmates do not tempt me because they already know what my religion is. Sharing our beliefs and testimony with others—especially with friends, classmates, neighbors, and family—will lessen the temptation in our surroundings. I know that by living the gospel, we can overcome the temptations in our lives.
Romeo P., age 19, Negros Occidental, Philippines

Martin, who mortgaged—and later lost—his farm to finance the publication of the Book of Mormon, was rebaptized in 1842 in Kirtland, Ohio. He didn’t move to Utah, however, until 1870.
During the final five years of his life, Martin had ample opportunities to share his witness with the Saints. During the last year of his life, he testified: “I tell you of these things that you may tell others that what I have said is true, and I dare not deny it; I heard the voice of God commanding me to testify to the same.”11
George Godfrey, a longtime acquaintance, sat up with Martin for many nights while he battled the illness that eventually claimed his life on July 10, 1875, in Clarkston, Utah. Just a few hours before Martin’s death, Godfrey said, “I asked him if he did not feel that there was an element, at least, of fraudulence and deception in the things that were written and told of the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, and he replied as he had always done, so many, many times in my hearing, and with the same spirit he always manifested when enjoying health and vigor.”
Martin then declared: “The Book of Mormon is no fake. I know what I know. I have seen what I have seen and I have heard what I have heard. I have seen the gold plates from which the Book of Mormon is written. An angel appeared to me and others and testified to the truthfulness of the record, and had I been willing to have perjured myself and sworn falsely to the testimony I now bear, I could have been a rich man, but I could not have testified other than I have done and am now doing, for these things are true.”12

Mary Ellen Edmunds tells of a sister she met in the Philippines who had lost her first child. Now Sally Pilobello was expecting again. “What can I do,” she asked Sister Edmunds, “to have a healthy Mormon baby?”
Sister Edmunds and other welfare missionaries taught Sally some truths about health and nutrition, and Sister Pilobello courageously adopted the new principles.
Years later, Sister Edmunds received a letter from Sally, thanking her for teaching her principles that were blessing Sally’s family. “I realize now that some of the things my mother taught me—things her mother taught her—were not correct. But the truths I’m learning will now be taught to my children, and to their children, and to the generations to come” (Tambuli, March 1993, 18).

On Sunday, Brother Edwards walked by the driveway where Pete was playing basketball. Brother Edwards was wearing a white shirt and tie, and under his arm he had a book. He stopped and watched Pete sink a jump shot from the corner of the garage.
“Hey, Pete,” he called, “are you coming to church today?”
Pete caught the ball before it could bounce under the fence. He dribbled it between his legs while he looked at Brother Edwards. “Nah,” he said. “Church is boring. Besides, I need to practice using my left hand.”
Pete bounced the ball back and forth, first with one hand, then with the other. Suddenly he spun around and drove hard toward the basket. He used his left hand to gently push the ball up toward the hoop. It touched the backboard and dropped through the net.
“Wow!” said Brother Edwards. “How long did you practice before you learned to do that?”
Pete shrugged. “I don’t know. I practice every day.”
“Every day! Why do you do that?”
“Because I have to. I want to be gooood.”
The next Sunday Brother Edwards stopped again. He was wearing a different tie this time, but under his arm was the same big book. He stood at the top of the driveway and watched Pete, who was concentrating very hard on the basket. Pete turned the ball over in his hand and dribbled it once. Then he took a deep breath, bent his knees, and shot.
The ball hit the inside of the rim and bounced out. It rolled off the back of the car and down the driveway. Brother Edwards stopped it with his foot. “Uh-oh,” he said as he stooped to pick it up. “Did I break your concentration?”
Pete caught the pass from Brother Edwards and shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s OK. I have to get used to it.”
“How many had you hit before that one?” Brother Edwards asked.
“Eight in a row. I need to get to twenty-one without a miss.”
“Why do you have to do that? You’re already a good free-throw shooter.”
“I want to be as good as my big brother,” Pete said. “When he was my age, he hit twenty-one in a row without missing. Now he plays for a college team. He makes eighty-one percent of his free throws. He’s gooood.”
Pete stood at the edge of the driveway, the toe of his sneaker on the painted yellow line. He dribbled the ball slowly and concentrated. He took a breath, bent his knees, and shot.
Brother Edwards waited for the ball to go through the net. “Good shot,” he said. “That’s one.”
Pete smiled and dribbled the ball back to the yellow line. He made another one.
“You know a lot about your brother,” Brother Edwards said. “Is he your hero?”
Pete shrugged. “I don’t know. I like to go to his games and watch him on TV. I saved all the articles about him from the newspaper. I even have the basketball from when his team won the state championship. I could show it to you some time. He signed it.”
“Wow! I’d like to see that.”
Pete was quiet for a moment as he stood at the line, turning the ball over and over in his hand. Finally he spoke. “Yeah, I guess you could say he’s my hero, ‘cause I want to be just like him. He’s the best.”
On Tuesday, Brother Edwards was mowing his lawn when Pete came walking home from school. Pete carried a backpack on one shoulder; with the other hand he was bouncing a ball. Brother Edwards slowed the mower and called across the hedge. “I see you’re still practicing. How was school?”
Pete stopped and adjusted the backpack to the other shoulder, but he kept the ball bouncing. “Oh, you know—just the same stuff over and over. School’s pretty boring.”
“I know what you mean. Sometimes I get tired of mowing this lawn over and over, but I know what would happen if I stopped working at it.”
“Yeah,” Pete said, “I guess it would get pretty bad.”
“By the way, I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
Pete looked surprised. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Sure you did. On Sunday. About practicing. You said you practice all the time so you can be good, like your brother.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Pete. “So?”
“Do you really do it every day?”
“That’s right,” said Pete. “If I didn’t practice, I’d forget what I already learned.”
Brother Edwards was amazed. “Some people would think that that was pretty boring—doing the same things over and over. Some people would wonder why you work so hard at it.”
“It isn’t boring. I like practicing, and I like working hard.” He dribbled behind his back without looking. “And someday all the work is going to pay off.” He went off down the street with the basketball still going. “Like I said,” he called back, “I’m going to be like my brother, and he’s the best.”
The next Sunday, Brother Edwards walked right on by. “Hey,” called Pete, “aren’t you going to stop for a minute?”
“Maybe just for a minute,” said Brother Edwards, “but I have to hurry. I’m on my way to practice.”
“I thought you were going to church,” said Pete.
“I am. I’m going there to practice. I have a hero, too, you know.”
“No way,” said Pete. “You have a hero? Who is he? What team does he play for?”
“He doesn’t play for any team.”
“Oh,” said Pete. “Is he one of those old guys? Have I ever heard of him?”
“Well, He did live a long time ago, but I’ll bet you’ve heard of Him. He’s the best kind of gooood. And the cool thing is, He can be everybody’s hero.”
Pete couldn’t believe his ears. He tried to think of all the famous names he knew, but he couldn’t guess. “Who is it?” he said. “Tell me, tell me.”
Brother Edwards laughed. “I’ll give you a hint. This book is all about Him.” He held out the blue book.
Pete stepped closer. “Hey, that’s the Book of Mormon. Oh, I know what you mean—you’re talking about Jesus Christ. But that doesn’t count. Jesus isn’t like a real hero.”
“Sure He is. He’s my hero. He was the best at everything He did. And wouldn’t you agree that He’s gooood?”
“Yeah, He was, but He’s not even alive.”
“Sure He is. He’s alive, and some people have seen Him. Some day I’m going to meet Him too.”
Pete was holding the ball under his arm and looking funny at Brother Edwards. “But why do you go to church?” he said. “Church is boring.”
“I don’t think so. I like learning about my hero, just like you like practicing the same shot over and over. That would seem pretty boring to me. Or reading all those newspaper articles. I bet you don’t think that’s boring.”
“Nope—it’s kind of fun. I guess it’s because I know my brother, and … I want to be like him so much. …”
On the fourth Sunday, Pete was shooting layups. He didn’t seem to be very interested, and he missed most of the shots. When he saw Brother Edwards, he dropped the ball on the grass. “Hey,” he called, “wait up. I have something to show you.” He ran into his house and was gone for a while. When he came back out, he had a book in his hand. “Look at this,” he called as he ran down the drive. “Look what my brother sent me.” Brother Edwards could see it was the Book of Mormon. Pete opened it and turned the pages until he came to a picture of Jesus. “See? It has all these stories about things Jesus did.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Brother Edwards said. “It’s just like mine. You could bring it to church with you. …” Suddenly Brother Edwards noticed that Pete wasn’t wearing his grubbies. “Are you coming to church today, Pete?”
Pete smiled. “Of course,” he said. “I have to come to church. I have to practice, don’t I?”
Brother Edwards laughed. “Well,” he said as they walked down the street together, “only if you want to be gooood.”

In the beginning God created man and woman and gave them a commandment: “Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth” (Genesis 1:28; Moses 2:28). My husband and I have been married for four and a half years, yet we have no children. There may be those reading who would respond (and I’ve heard it all before):
“Oh, but you’re still young!”
“Just enjoy this time without kids!”
“Take advantage of the freedom while it lasts!”
I’ve learned not to take offense and to simply let the comments pass because I know those speaking don’t mean to be hurtful. I realize that there are people who have been married longer who still do not have children. However, I do know that even though it’s been only four years, that still doesn’t mean it’s been easy.
There are moments that are easy. For the past two years, my husband and I have lived in Europe, traveling to places we never dreamed we’d get to go. We’ve eaten delicious food. And we’ve met tons of friends from around the globe who have enlarged our ideas, opinions, and worldviews. In many ways it would be foolish not to be grateful for this time. My relationship with my husband has been strengthened, I’ve learned a ton, and we’ve had some amazing adventures.
But we’ve also spent many nights on the couch watching movies. We’ve created memories that our future children won’t be a part of. Our ward has only one young couple without children, and—spoiler alert—it’s us. And it seems like no matter what adventures we are having, the thought of children is always there.
During my ups and downs, I have found myself often reflecting on the commandment given to Adam and Eve. We believe that this commandment remains in full force today1 and that we are expected to follow it. However, my husband and I haven’t yet been able to. But neither could Adam and Eve, at first. So what did they do? The only thing they knew how—they took care of the garden. While I don’t live in the Garden of Eden, I do live in the garden of the earth, the garden of the Netherlands, the garden of my family, and the garden of my ward. These are my gardens that the Lord has asked me to multiply and replenish. These are the words that have been the focus of my pondering. These words have helped me to refocus my life on serving others and the Lord. I often think about:
How can I multiply the gifts that the Lord has given me and others?
How can I multiply love toward God’s children?
How can I multiply my time and effort to serve others?
How can I replenish my own spiritual well?
How can I replenish what others have lost, whether temporal or spiritual?
How can I replenish hope and faith that seems to be lost for many in the world?
As I’ve focused more on these questions, I have been blessed with opportunities to answer them in powerful ways. I have had the opportunity to serve in the Young Women organization. I have had the flexibility to drop whatever I’m doing and help someone pack or care for friends’ children. I’ve been able to teach theater to kids from all over the globe. I’ve spent more time studying the gospel. I’ve been able to better bear the burdens of others and comfort those who stand in need of comfort. And most importantly, I have gained a greater knowledge, testimony, and spiritual understanding of the gospel and God’s plan for me.
I’m not saying the commandment to “multiply and replenish” doesn’t mean to have children. We are here to raise families up in righteousness, and that includes having children, if possible. But while waiting for the blessing of children, we can still fulfill that commandment by taking care of the gardens around us. So when I get sad, upset, bitter, jealous, angry, or scared because of my infertility, I always try to ask myself: what am I doing to take care of my gardens? And that makes all the difference.
Jean Yellowhorse is a drama teacher who loves socializing, playing games, and exploring the world, both real and fictional. Since the writing of this article, Jean and her husband have moved on to their next adventure (and garden) in New Mexico, USA. They are excited to welcome a new baby girl this month.

I close with another example of a family relationship. At a stake conference in the Midwest about 10 years ago, I met a sister who told me that her nonmember husband had been accompanying her to church for 12 years but had never joined the Church. What should she do? she asked. I counseled her to keep doing all the right things and to be patient and kind with her husband.

About a month later she wrote me as follows: “Well, I thought that the 12 years was a good show of patience, but I didn’t know if I was being very kind about it. So, I practiced real hard for over a month, and he got baptized.”

Kindness is powerful, especially in a family setting. Her letter continued, “I am even trying to be kinder now because we are working on a temple sealing this year!”

Six years later she wrote me another letter: “My husband was [just] called and set apart as the bishop [of our ward].”2