Gospel Story Finder

As Heber J. Grant matured, his faith in God also matured. His wife lay critically ill, and Heber J. Grant called his children into her hospital room and told them that their mother was going to die. President Grant’s daughter, upon learning of this, pleaded with her father not to let her mother die. She pleaded with him to exercise his priesthood in her behalf. She and his other children left the room and President Grant knelt by his wife’s bed. Of that prayer President Grant said:
“I told the Lord, I acknowledged his hand in life and in death, in joy or in sorrow, in prosperity or adversity. I did not complain because my wife was dying, but that I lacked the strength to see my wife die and have her death affect the faith of my children in the ordinances of the gospel. I therefore pleaded with him to give to my daughter Lutie a testimony that it was his will that her mother should die. Within a few short hours, my wife breathed her last. Then I called the children into the bedroom and announced that their mamma was dead. My little boy Heber commenced weeping bitterly, and Lutie put her arms around him and kissed him, and told him not to cry, that the voice of the Lord had said to her, ‘In the death of your mamma the will of the Lord will be.’ Lutie knew nothing of my prayers, and this manifestation to her was a direct answer to my supplication to the Lord, and for it I have never ceased to be grateful.”

His parents joined the Church when he was a baby. His father was hired into Huntsman Packaging by a young Ronald Rasband when both men were in their twenties. His parents’ association with members of the Church helped them gain a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

True friendship has been one of those gifts. I had several good friends while growing up. The gospel bound us together, and special leaders helped us choose the right. We had a wonderful Sunday School teacher named Eva Manwaring who knew how to handle a group of ruffian boys. I don’t think there were too many sisters who would have put up with us, but she did. Her husband took care of us in Scouts, helping us get our Eagle ranks. I am grateful for good friends and leaders who helped me make good choices, especially the choice to serve a mission.

“I had some difficulty in school because of sickness. As an incentive for me to try really hard in school, my dad, who was the bishop, told me that on my twelfth birthday he would take me to Salt Lake City, Utah, to attend a conference. Going to Salt Lake City seemed like going to the end of the world! I remember going to that conference and sitting up in the balcony on the north side and seeing the General Authorities and realizing that they were real people. When I look back on that and then think of going to conference now and sitting in one of those red seats, I know that I never had thought of myself in my present position. I think if we could have some idea of what the Lord has in mind for us, we would probably have a lot more confidence in ourselves as we grow up. No matter how humble your circumstances, how far away you live, or what the size of your town is, believe that the Lord has something special for you to do.”

Imagine that you are asked to keep a written record of the people of your country and to also write a shortened record of over one thousand years of their history. While you are doing this, your people are at war, and you must often hide to protect your writings. You may not use a typewriter or computer but must inscribe on metal plates so that your record can be safely buried in the earth.

Growing up with parents who are deaf, I was keenly aware that my family was different. When I was young, there was no one to interpret for my parents at Church meetings or activities, so we didn’t attend often.
I always felt like an outsider looking in, wanting what others in my ward had—a family who prayed and studied together.
Near the end of my senior year in high school, however, we became more active in the Church. My parents were sealed in the Mesa Arizona Temple, and two of my four siblings and I were sealed to them.

“Dad, I don’t want to go,” Spencer said.
“You promised Grandpa you would help him today,” Dad said.
“I don’t want to go to the dump,” Spencer said. “Why doesn’t Grandpa put his garbage can on the curb like everyone else?”
“You promised you would go, so you need to go,” Dad said.
“This is silly,” Spencer thought. Why did he have to waste a day of his vacation at the dump?
A few minutes later, Grandpa drove up in his pickup truck. Two garbage cans were loaded in the back. Spencer climbed into the passenger’s seat.
“We have just a few stops to make before we go to the dump,” Grandpa said.
“This is going to take forever,” Spencer thought as he stared out the window.
Grandpa pulled into his neighbors’ driveway. The couple who lived there had been his grandparents’ neighbors for almost 50 years. Arlo and Wanda were always nice to Spencer when he came to visit. The front door opened and Wanda walked out.
“I wish you wouldn’t trouble yourself with this,” she said to Grandpa as he hauled her garbage can into the truck.
“No trouble at all,” Grandpa said.
“You have the kindest grandpa in the world,” Wanda said to Spencer.
“Give Arlo my best,” Grandpa said.
“I will. Thank you,” Wanda said. A tear fell down her cheek.
“What’s wrong with Arlo?” Spencer asked as they drove away.
“He’s really sick. Wanda has to do everything for him now. It’s a lot of hard work, but she doesn’t complain.”
A few minutes later they pulled into another driveway. A small woman was struggling to keep a garbage can from tipping over as she tried to move it from the garage.
“Minnie!” Grandpa jumped out of the truck. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just trying to help,” she said.
Minnie was another one of Grandpa’s neighbors. Grandpa took the garbage can from her.
“I think you’ve grown a foot since last summer, Spencer,” Minnie said, smiling at Spencer. “I’m sorry I haven’t brought over any waffles, but these old hands don’t do much cooking anymore.”
Minnie was an excellent cook and used to bring over a batch of waffles when Spencer and his family came to visit Grandma and Grandpa.
“That’s OK, Minnie,” Spencer said.
“I don’t know what I would do without your grandpa and grandma, Spencer,” Minnie said. “This world needs more people like them.”
Grandpa loaded Minnie’s can into the back of the truck, and soon they were driving down a long, dusty road outside of town. “This is our last stop,” Grandpa said.
“Who lives here?” Spencer asked.
“A new family that moved in a few months ago. They are having a hard time. I told them I would haul their trash for them so they wouldn’t have to pay for garbage service. At first they told me I didn’t need to.”
“Then why do it?” Spencer asked.
Grandpa smiled at Spencer. “Because I can,” he said.
Spencer stared out the window, thinking about what Grandpa had just said. He realized that Grandpa didn’t help people because he had to do it. He helped people because that’s the kind of person he was.
Grandpa parked the truck, but before he could get out, Spencer said, “You stay in the truck, Grandpa. I’ll get these cans for you.”

Martha Cumming was born in Scotland in 1884. She reluctantly attended a meeting of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Edinburgh in 1912, at the invitation of a visiting missionary cousin from America. When those present began to sing, “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet,” she pressed her hands tight to her ears until they had finished.
Working as a domestic servant in a Presbyterian minister’s home in Edinburgh, Martha continued to have occasional contact with the Church. She prayed to be the means of showing them the error of their teachings.
After one meeting with the missionaries, she related, “When I got home that night, I laid there with the lights on pondering the many things pertaining to the gospel, even to the Prophet Joseph. I thought ‘Maybe I am wrong and there is only one way to find out — talk to my Heavenly Father.’ I got out of bed, got on my knees, and prayed. I felt that prayer did not reach further than the ceiling, so I got out of bed again. I felt very humble, so humble and sincere that my prayer was sobbed out — each word. I asked my Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was really His prophet; I said I didn’t want a sign (as I had known most of my life it was wicked to ask for a sign). I told my Heavenly Father so, but I said, ‘How am I ever going to believe about Joseph Smith unless in your own way, Heavenly Father? Please won’t you tell me. And please forgive me if I am asking wrong’.
“By this time, I was shaking with sobs. I was talking to my Heavenly Father and asking for something that meant so much to me. I got into bed, the light still on, when all at once I heard the most beautiful organ music. Then a choir started to sing — all the parts were sung with the most beautiful voices I had ever heard on this earth. … They sang to me the first song I ever heard in the Mormon meeting in Edinburgh, Scotland when I stopped my ears so I could not hear the few people who were at that meeting singing the song I didn’t want to hear. Yes, it was ‘We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet’! That singing went on and on … I lay spellbound listening to every word with tears streaming down my face, my heart and soul rejoicing at every word I heard … Heavenly Father heard me, a humble young woman who earned her living in a minister’s home.”
Taken from the testimony of Martha Hunter Hurry Cumming Clark, as written to her granddaughter Carole Clayton Pulley in 1952. More information can be found at https://ancestors.familysearch.org/en/KWZN-FDZ/martha-hunter-hurry-cumming-1884-1963

As a forester working on Mount Makiling during the 1990s and early 2000s, I learned the indispensable value of using both a map and a compass to plan and carry out expeditions. These tools helped me discover and protect the forest from harm. In much the same way, I have relied on the Book of Mormon to guide me through my spiritual journey and the challenges of life.

Years ago one of our daughters asked me to come outside and play tetherball with her. She told me to sit down and watch as she hit over and over again a ball on a rope that wound itself around a pole. After watching several windings, I asked what my part was in the game, and she said, “Oh, Mom, you say, ‘Good job, good job,’ every time the ball goes around the pole.”

Here is the action from “Take Me Out to the Games Machine”:
“Young looked at Robinson, then wheeled and fired a fast pitch to Musial; Musial met it with the bat and laced it over the first baseman’s head and on into short right field. Mickey Mantle fielded it on one hop and threw to Lou Gehrig at first; Musial slid in just ahead of the throw.
“And Jackie Robinson rounded third base and pounded down the line for home!”

Gospel seeds were first planted in Argentina among German immigrants in 1925, when Elder Melvin J. Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles dedicated South America for the preaching of the gospel. Shortly after, he declared: “The work of the Lord will grow slowly for a time here just as an oak grows slowly from an acorn. … [But] the South American Mission will be a power in the Church” (quoted in Melvin J. Ballard: Crusader for Righteousness [1966], 84).

Argentina, as well as other areas of South America, is seeing the fulfillment of Elder Ballard’s prophecy. Those seeds have spread slowly but steadily over the years among this people, descended largely from European immigrants. Today Latter-day Saints in Argentina number more than 277,000 members in 64 stakes.

It was while he was announcing high school basketball games as a college freshman that his wife first met him. June Dixon was still attending high school in nearby Spanish Fork when someone introduced her to him at a game.
They were married on 24 June 1952, while both were attending BYU. It was the height of the Korean War, and he was in the Utah National Guard, expecting his unit to be called to active duty at any time. But while other, closely related units went, his was never activated. At that time, a limited number of young men were being called on missions because of the war, and Dallin was not among them; the quota in his ward was filled.
“I think he’s always wished that he had enjoyed that opportunity. But later he was stake mission president in Chicago. And he was a good one,” his wife comments.

I was reading the Book of Mormon after I got in trouble. My mom came in and saw me reading and said it was a great idea to help me calm down. I had a warm feeling.
Ellie K., age 7, New Hampshire, USA

Age 60
Mayor
First counselor in bishopric
The tsunami that struck Samoa in September 2009 took my grandson. It took my sister’s son. I lost my home, two cars, and almost everything I owned. Nearly our entire village is moving into the hills so that this doesn’t happen again.
I know God loves those who survived because, through the Church, He has given us new homes, food, and water. I know He loves those who did not survive because, through His power, we can be together again. We have been blessed.

Just after my call as a General Authority 16 years ago, in a stake conference where I accompanied President Boyd K. Packer, he said something I have not forgotten. As he addressed the congregation, he said, “I know who I am.” Then after a pause, he added, “I am a nobody.” He then turned to me, sitting on the stand behind him, and said, “And, Brother Andersen, you are a nobody too.” Then he added these words: “If you ever forget it, the Lord will remind you of it instantly, and it won’t be pleasant.”

There was a time in my life that I felt ashamed and guilty. I thought Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were not going to forgive my mistakes or the many times I had failed Them. I felt like I couldn’t be forgiven. But kneeling and saying a prayer helped me feel the Holy Spirit.

George T. Johannesen, Sr., of the Kalamazoo Ward, Lansing Michigan Stake, tells about his college classmate, Pete Cavallo, who wanted nothing more than to become an athlete even though he was barely 1.5 meters and weighed scarcely more than 45 kilograms. Cavallo (the name means “Horse”) decided to try cross-country running.
The first year, Pete finished the race, but only long after the stadium was empty. The next year he did a little better, and by the third year he had improved enough to finish while spectators were still left in the stands. By the fourth year, people were saying, “we sure do wish those little Cavallo legs could win this year!” But nobody thought they would.
Still, there was a feeling of expectancy. Everyone was watching the hill leading to the stadium, hoping to see Pete Cavallo at the front of the pack of runners as they made the final dash to the stadium. Then one of those big, long-legged runners charged into view, and a sigh of disappointment was heard. Fans started leaving.
But suddenly there was little Pete running over the hill. The stadium became very noisy, everyone shouting, “Run, Pete! Run, Little Horse!” The winner was forgotten as if Pete had come in first. And perhaps in a way he did, because people still remember today his example of working to do the best he could.

In Primary we learn lots of songs, and I love singing about the temple. I want to get married there someday. I told my mom I want to marry Daddy. She said he is already taken, but that I will find another great man to marry when I grow up. I know the temple is Heavenly Father’s house. I can’t wait until I can go to the temple.Abigail Emma Smith, age 3, with help from her momOlney, Maryland

I have seen the law of the harvest fulfilled in my own family.
Some years ago I was visiting family, when the bishop asked me to conclude the sacrament service. As I was coming down from the stand, a woman approached me with her seven children and introduced herself as Sister Rebecca Guzman.
She asked, “Elder Rasband, do you know Rulon and Verda Rasband?”
I beamed and replied, “They are my parents.”
You can see where this is going. With Rebecca’s permission, who is here with family in the Conference Center, I share her family’s story.
My parents, Elder Rulon and Sister Verda Rasband, were serving as a senior couple in the Florida Fort Lauderdale Mission. They were proselyting and by divine guidance knocked on the door of Rebecca’s home. She was just a teenager and loved listening to the music of the Osmonds, in particular our friend Donny—who is here with us today. She had listened to their media interviews and learned they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She felt there was something different about them, and thinking it might be their religion, Rebecca spent two years researching the Church’s beliefs in the school library. So, when a kindly-looking couple knocked on her family’s door and introduced themselves as Latter-day Saint missionaries, she was taken back.
“My mother told me to get rid of them,” Rebecca later wrote, “but my heart said, ‘No.’ I looked into their faces, and I felt so much warmth and love. The memory still brings tears to my eyes and deep emotion to my heart.”
Rebecca invited them in, and my missionary parents shared a message with her, her two younger sisters, and, despite her objections, her mother.
Rebecca described to me: “Both your parents were wonderful in explaining any questions we had. I can still see their faces as if there was light surrounding them. We always hugged your mother when she left, and she always made a point of helping my mother feel comfortable and respected. Your father always had a sparkle in his eyes as he was teaching us about Jesus Christ. He tried to include my father in discussions and eventually won him over. My father was a chef at a local country club and started cooking dinners for your parents, including making your father’s favorite, key lime pie.”
When Elder and Sister Rasband asked Rebecca and her family to read the Book of Mormon, Rebecca did so in five days. She wanted to be baptized immediately, but the other members of her family were not ready. After four months, Rebecca insisted she be baptized and join the true Church. She recalled, “Every fiber of my soul knew it was true.” On April 5, 1979, missionaries baptized 19-year-old Rebecca, her mother, and two sisters. My father was a witness at the baptism.
When I met Rebecca and her family at church, we took a photograph of her family with me. I took it home to my elderly mother, and she held it close to her heart. Then she said to me, “Ronnie, this is one of the happiest days of my life.”