Gospel Story Finder

When Barbara Jinx Boquecosa, 18, of Mandaue, Philippines, and the rest of her family became less active, she noticed the difference in her life immediately. “When we stopped going to church, there was no peace in our home, and I really missed it,” she says. “I felt I was responsible to get us back active again, so I encouraged my family to go back.” That was more than a year ago, and since then, Barbara, her parents, and her two brothers and one sister have returned to full activity in the Mandaue Fourth Branch, Mandaue Stake. “It’s really a different feeling to be active in the Church. I can’t describe the happiness that I feel.”

The gospel is about changing lives. Joining the Church is a big change for some people. Repentance and forgiveness require change. Crossing the plains was a huge change for the pioneers. Changes can also take other, more mundane forms—but that doesn’t mean that they’ll be any easier to make.
“The first time they announced they were splitting our stake, I was a little upset because I had good friends in our stake. I sort of felt like I would never see some of those people again,” says Debbie Byrd, a Laurel in the newly formed Ames Iowa Stake.
But Debbie soon changed her attitude, realizing that a new stake not only meant a shorter driving distance to activities and a smaller, more intimate group of people, but was also an opportunity to build fun new traditions and become better friends with people close to home.
“We’re not so spread out anymore,” says Jerad Hintz, a priest. “Before I didn’t always know who was in the stake. Now we know each other a lot better.”

I sit at the sewing machine and feed thread onto seams of flannel. Child-print patterns in soft colors decorate the tops, and coordinating colors form the backs of the baby receiving blankets I’m sewing.
Our ward Relief Society assembles newborn kits for poverty and disaster areas. I’m an amateur seamstress, but I’m committed to participate. I enjoy choosing fabric for the project and cutting out blanket-sized squares.
I put right sides of the fabric together, sew around the edges, and leave an area open to turn the blanket right side out. Then I stitch along the edges, clip the corners, turn the blanket so that the colorful sides are on the outside, and stitch up the open area.
I sew along the top of the edges to reinforce the seams. I ease the fabric into place and take off at a brisk pace. As I rush to finish so I can resume household duties, a thought strikes me: “What if I were sewing this blanket for baby Jesus?”
With that thought, I slow down and take great care to straighten the seams. But even with care, the stitching doesn’t run straight.
Next I sew a 10-inch (25 cm) square in the center to secure the front to the back. I make a heavy paper template, center it on the blanket, and lightly mark around it. I put the fabric in place, ease down the needle, and carefully sew.
When I’m done, I clip the threads and pull out the finished blanket. It isn’t square—it’s a cross between a trapezoid and a parallelogram.
I set the blanket aside, pull out fresh flannel, and start again—taking greater pains for this gift worthy of Deity. But even with the extra effort, the results are only slightly better. Each blanket I sew is imperfect.
I feel that I can’t take any of the blankets to the collection site, at least not this year. I’ll keep practicing, and perhaps someday I can make a contribution.
Then another thought floats through my mind: “If you wait until your sewing is perfect, the Christ child will be in Egypt.”
I understand. The opportunity for service would be gone. The Savior accepts our offerings when we use our best efforts, imperfect though they may be. I know that a newborn, wrapped in a soft, clean blanket, would not refuse to sleep because the corners aren’t square.
As I contemplate whether my efforts will make a dent in worldwide needs, Christ’s counsel comes to mind: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40).
So I continue sewing blankets, working to make them as attractive as I can. I know there is a need now, not some vague time in the future when I can sew them perfectly.

Each of us has an opportunity to serve people through callings and to feel that we are “no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Ephesians 2:19). I clearly and profoundly remember that shortly after I was baptized, my branch president assigned me to take the roll for Sunday School classes. I was glad to have this assignment. Each class I would excitedly hold the name list and check off each name. As time went by, I gradually got to know each member of the Sunday School. I soon became acquainted with all the members and would care about those who were absent. I felt privileged and happy that I could do my part for the Lord’s Church. I also felt that the Lord had taught me and blessed me in this assignment.

Emily Richards stepped up to the narrow pulpit at the National Woman Suffrage Association meeting in the U.S. capital, Washington, D.C. She knew this was one of the most critical experiences of her life. The year was 1889, and the topics of women’s suffrage in Utah and plural marriage were being fiercely debated. Although Emily was nervous, she felt prepared to speak on behalf of her home, gender, and religion.
One source related, “It was feared that the lady from Utah would not be able to make herself heard throughout the hall—other speakers having failed in that regard—but to the general surprise and delight, her clear tones penetrated to the remotest recesses of the building, and her speech was a veritable triumph.”1
Although there is not a record of what Emily said that day, one journalist reported that she spoke for about half an hour. She gave “an orderly, scholarly presentation” that presented facts and ideas that “disarm[ed] prejudice.” The reporter went on to say that Emily’s words had a “gentle spirit” that softened many hearts that day towards the territory of Utah.2

Many times the most beautiful examples of obedience and service are given by ordinary people who live close to us. Sister Ana Rita de Jesus, an elderly widow, lived in Anápolis, Brazil. She could not read or write. The missionaries would go to her home every week to read the scriptures to her. She was loving and kind. Every Sunday she would ask the missionaries to help her fill out a tithing slip. Sometimes her tithing and offerings were not more than a few cents, but she knew the law and wanted to obey it. After paying her tithing, she would walk into the room where the sacrament meeting was held in the rented house used as a chapel and would place a flower on the pulpit.
In doing so, she served her brothers and sisters, bringing beauty to the place where we worshiped the Lord. That sister, in a very simple way, taught us obedience and service through her faith. She knew obeying the commandments is the best preparation to serve. President Thomas S. Monson advised us to “obey the commandments” and “serve with love” (Ensign, May 1998, 47). Sister Ana Rita did so throughout her life.

At the beginning of each year, I make at least one resolution. Last year, I resolved to read the Book of Mormon every day. But I didn’t want to just read it like I would any other book. I committed to really study and ponder the things I would read.
The night that I resolved to do this, I said a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to help me stick to my goal. Then I started reading. As I read, the Spirit filled my room, and I knew this was going to be one resolution that I would keep.
There were many nights that I couldn’t put my book down to go to sleep because I was so involved with what I was reading. As I read about the prophets, they came alive to me. I felt like I was getting to know them each individually. They were becoming a part of my life like never before.
Whenever I experienced a trial or hardship, I would think of the trials that Nephi, Abinadi, or Alma went through. For the most part, my trials seemed small in comparison. But the lessons I learned from my trials were similar. I learned faith, patience, humility, and forgiveness. Most important of all, I learned how important and how real the Atonement of Jesus Christ is.
I am grateful that my testimony of the Book of Mormon has been strengthened, and that my love for the prophets and for my Savior has deepened.

A small group of sisters brought their sewing machines along and started a patchwork and quilting group to run at the same time as the knitters.
Throughout this year they have been knitting baby blankets and clothes for the “Baby Basics” charity in Northampton, which the Kettering Ward supports as a local donation centre. Tiny baby hats for Kettering General Hospital’s baby unit were also made and delivered. The patchworkers have completed several quilts, including some special small sized quilts that are given to sick children in a local hospice to wrap their teddy bear in while they receive chemotherapy treatment.

In 1975 Janelle Griffin was a sophomore at Woods Cross High School in Bountiful, Utah. An assigned paper on the population explosion started a chain of events that eventually led to a sound filmstrip called “Very Much Alive.”

Janelle and her father, Dr. Glen Griffin, now members of the Val Verda 10th Ward (Bountiful Utah Val Verda Stake), went through the family photos and selected some good slides. These were matched with an anti-abortion story-script that Janelle and her father wrote. The resulting slide presentation, emphasizing the sanctity of human life, was used in the Career Day event at school by Dr. Griffin, a nationally-known pediatrician and author.

The slide presentation was enthusiastically applauded by students and teachers. Refinements and revisions followed. A sound track was recorded on cassette tape. Some who saw the presentation suggested that every LDS youth should see “Very Much Alive.”

After they had seen it, the Presiding Bishopric agreed. Many revisions and refinements followed, and then followed distribution in 17 languages to all the Church. As word got around, copies were purchased by other churches and by anti-abortion groups.

Now another edition of “Very Much Alive” has been prepared. Entitled “Very Much Alive—Worldwide Edition,” this filmstrip contains no mention of religion and is being used in many schools as part of their approved curriculum libraries.

Countless lives have been touched and others will yet be touched for good because of a filmstrip that had its beginning in a homework assignment to a Latter-day Saint girl in Bountiful.

Babies’ lives have been spared. Unwed parents have been influenced to make wise choices. Adoptive parents have rejoiced to have infants placed in their homes.

I once visited a family in Chile. Their father had died in an accident a month before I came. One of the children was a boy named Benjamin. He was 10 years old.
Before his dad’s accident, Benjamin gave a family home evening lesson. It was about the stripling warriors from the Book of Mormon (see Alma 53:16–22; 56:42–57). He talked about how brave they were and how they trusted God.
When Benjamin’s mom heard about the accident, she thought of Benjamin’s lesson. She told her family, “We need to be brave like the stripling warriors. We have another battle to fight.”
It was hard for Benjamin’s family. It felt like their lives were turned upside down. They had to move to another house to live with their grandma. And they really missed their dad. But they knew they would be together with him again someday. They decided to be a stripling warrior family. Benjamin told us, “I’m being brave.”
I walked into their house wanting to comfort them. But I was the one who left feeling blessed. Benjamin and his family are fighting this battle so bravely. Their faith is inspiring to me.

A few years ago Morgan High School played Millard High for the state football championship. From his wheelchair, to which Morgan coach Jan Smith was confined, he said to his team: “This is the most important game of your lives. You lose, and you will regret it forever. You win, and you will remember it forever. Make every play as though it were all-important.”
Behind the door, his wife, whom he tenderly referred to as his chief assistant, overheard her husband say, “I love you guys. I don’t care about the ball game. I love you and want the game victory for you.” Underdog Morgan High won the football game and the state championship.

Lafague Augustin, a friend of the Church from Haiti, took EnglishConnect 3 after losing his job because he couldn’t speak English. The service missionaries at his gathering place encouraged him to continue with BYU–Pathway, attend church, and read and listen to the Book of Mormon. In return, they promised he would feel the power of God and his English would significantly improve.
As promised, Lafague has seen the blessings. He was able to get a job as an interpreter with his new English skills. “EnglishConnect blessed my life so much. It allowed me to enroll in BYU–Pathway Worldwide, which has helped my confidence when speaking with native English speakers.”
He added, “In church, I feel peace, love, and respect. As I pray, read the scriptures, and study the gospel with the missionaries, I’m becoming closer to Jesus Christ.”

My friend Max was baptized when he was eight years old. His father was not a member of any church, and Max could go to church or not go.

As a teenager, after not attending for several months, Max had the feeling that he needed to go back to church and determined one Sunday morning that he would return. But his resolve weakened as he approached the front door of the church; his stomach tightened.

There, standing at the door, was the new bishop. Max didn’t know him, and he felt sure the bishop didn’t know Max. As Max approached, the bishop’s face lit up, and he put his hand out and said, “Max, it’s so good to see you!”

“As he spoke those words,” Max said, “a warm feeling came over me and I knew I had done the right thing.”

Knowing someone’s name can make a difference.

On October 28, 2000, I moved into a home behind a Latter-day Saint meetinghouse. While putting my things away that night, I noticed activity in the building. Not accustomed to so much noise in the evening, I was upset at first. Then a woman from the Church came over and invited me to their activity that night. Since I was a member of another faith, I declined and said that I did not want to mix up my beliefs. During the activity I heard the Church members singing hymns, and I found the music very beautiful.
On Sunday I got up early and went to my church, but when I returned home, I saw that the meetinghouse was full of people, and I again heard the hymns. The music was so pretty, and I could feel something touch me deep in my heart. People were in the church again in the afternoon. This time I turned off the television and paid attention to their music.
As they sang I stood at the window. I felt something special, a great peace within my heart. I wanted to go out to the garden to feel closer to them. My emotions were so great that I started to cry.
My daughter and I walked outside. A gentleman came out of the church, looked at me, and invited us to attend a baptism. At first I refused, but then I felt I should go in. I called to my daughter, but she would not go. Even so, I did not resist. My daughter finally came too, and we attended the baptism. I was moved and felt the Spirit touch me. On December 10, 2000, my daughter and I were baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The hymns changed my life. I was a profoundly sad person, and now I am happy. I am grateful for the hymns that praise and express love to the Lord. They helped bring me to baptism.
Carmelinda Pereira da Silva, Brazil

One day at school as I ate lunch and studied for my next class, I noticed a group sitting near me, talking and laughing. One young woman particularly caught my attention. She was tall, with beautiful black hair, dark skin, and high cheekbones. Her appearance was as unlike my pale, freckled face and red hair as anything I could imagine. She was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen.
After a few minutes, the group rose to leave. But the young woman I had been watching stopped. I was somewhat embarrassed; I thought she must have seen me staring at them. Then something extraordinary happened.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but I want to tell you how beautiful you are.”
After a shocked pause, I started to laugh. “I was thinking the same thing about you!”
After she left, I continued to think about what had happened. We found our differences beautiful. At that moment I realized there is no single standard of beauty.

Nature provides some striking parallels. The late film producer Cecil B. DeMille shared this experience:
“One day as I was lying in a canoe, a big black beetle … climbed up to the canoe. I watched it idly for some time.
“Under the heat of the sun, the beetle proceeded to die. Then a strange thing happened. His glistening black shell cracked all the way down the back. Out of it came a shapeless mass, quickly transformed into beautifully, brilliantly-colored life. … There gradually unfolded iridescent wings from which the sunlight flashed a thousand colors. … The blue-green body took shape.
“Before my eyes had occurred a metamorphosis—the transformation of a hideous beetle into a gorgeous dragonfly. … I had witnessed … a miracle. Out of the mud had come a beautiful new life. And the thought came to me that if the Creator works such wonders with the lowliest of creatures, what may not be in store for the human spirit!”

Elder Rasband’s middle name is Anderson. It helps him remember his mother’s family. His great-great-grandparents were Jens and Ane Cathrine Anderson. They lived in Denmark almost 200 years ago. They learned about the gospel in Denmark and were baptized. In 1862 they traveled to the United States to be with other Latter-day Saints. Jens died on the trip across the ocean, but Ane Cathrine and her son kept going. It was hard, but their faith was strong. They made it all the way to Utah.

Oksana has had some challenges in her life. About two years ago, she developed a lot of pain in her back and legs, so much that she couldn’t walk or bend over. Her parents took her to the hospital, where the doctors discovered a tumor on her spine. As the doctors prepared to operate, they told her parents that she had a 50% chance of being paralyzed from the waist down. “I prayed that Heavenly Father would help me,” Oksana says.

“The doctors scheduled an emergency operation on fast Sunday,” Oksana’s mom, Andreé, explains. “Members of our ward fasted for her. And when the doctor came out of the operating room, he said it was like a miracle.” The doctors were able to easily remove the tumor without damaging Oksana’s spine, which they had not thought would be possible. “It was a miracle,” Oksana’s mom adds. Today Oksana is healthy and happy, though she still has one more surgery scheduled to remove some metal rods placed in her spine, which are helping it to grow straight again.

An old fable, and one of my favorites over the years, tells this story:
A Japanese scholar each evening talked with workmen from a factory. One night he told the men that he would bring them something of beauty on the morrow. One man asked the scholar to bring him a rose, another asked for a branch, and the third requested a lily. The next evening he handed out the rose, the branch, and the lily.
“There is a thorn on my rose,” said the first man. The second complained, “There is a dead leaf on my branch.” “There is a clump of dirt on my lily,” cried the third.
The scholar took all his gifts back and said, “You had a beautiful rose and saw only the thorn; you had a lovely green branch and saw only the dead leaf; and on the glorious lily you saw only the clump of dirt.”

Kam Fung stopped to peer through the gateway on the border between China and Macau. When Papa was away, it was lonely fishing in the South China Sea in the small boat with only Mama and her two brothers.

Today Papa had promised to return from visiting his sick mother in Canton. Kam Fung watched hopefully for the familiar figure with shoulders slumped from many years of carrying heavy loads. Her own shoulders ached now under the weight of the long pole balancing two large baskets of fish. If Papa only knew what lay hidden under the fish, she thought, he might hurry home faster.

Kam Fung was about to hurry on to the market when she caught sight of her father. His shoulders were even more stooped than she had remembered, and his face more haggard than she had ever seen it. As Papa passed through the gateway, Kam Fung set down her pole and baskets of fish and ran toward him. “Oh, Papa, we have missed you!”

He smiled tiredly and took her hand. “I have missed you too. I hope you have been selling a lot of fish in the market.”

“Oh yes, Papa! But I know that I can sell these twice as fast if you help me.”

He laughed, but it seemed a little sad.

“Is Grandmother not well?” she asked.

“I’m afraid that she will not live much longer. Maybe I will visit her again soon.”

Papa picked up the pole and shouldered the fish baskets. “We will not talk of it now. We have fish to sell. Besides, I know that my brothers in Canton will take good care of her.”

As they dodged through the market crowded with people buying squawking chickens, live snakes, and apples from America, Kam Fung again thought of her secret hidden under the fish.

Papa began slapping the fish out onto the little platform where their family usually brought their daily catches. Before he had finished unloading, people began examining the fish.

“This is a nice plump one,” said one woman. “How much?” The woman was already loaded down with a chicken stuffed into a pink plastic bag, a huge watermelon, and a sack overflowing with green vegetables.

Kam Fung plopped the fish onto the pan of a caddy-stick scale to weigh it and moved the weighted string along the stick to balance it. Out of the corner of her eye Kam Fung could see Papa reaching for the last fish in the bottom of the basket and pulling out a plastic sack, instead.

Peering inside, he asked, “Why are you carrying books in the fish basket?”

“It is the Bible, Papa,” exclaimed Kam Fung, as she handed the fish to the customer. “Don’t you remember that before you left for Canton, we passed by a Christian church offering Bible classes. You told me that you read the Bible as a small boy with your family in China. Then, when Bible reading wasn’t allowed for a long time in China, your family got rid of your Bible. You said that you wished you could remember some stories about Jesus.”

Shrugging vaguely, Papa pulled a book out of the sack. “Kam Fung, this isn’t the Bible. It’s a Book of Mormon.”

“But it talks about Jesus. I know. I already ready part of it,” she said.

Papa shook his head. “This is only an American book. I had some American boys try to give me one of these when we first came to Macau. I told them that it sounded like a good story made up in the head of an American and that I wanted no part of it.” He reached into the sack again and pulled out another book, and then another, and another. “Kam Fung, there are six copies of the Book of Mormon in here. How did you ever get six?”

Kam Fung looked down sheepishly. “Well, Papa, yesterday I was dashing across the street with my load of fish. I wasn’t looking where I was going and crashed right into two Chinese missionaries on bikes. We all fell down in a heap. Their books spilled out, and all my fish came down on top of them.” Kam Fung couldn’t help giggling. “The books came up smelling pretty fishy. I told them that I didn’t think anybody else would want to have their books smelling of fish but that I knew my papa would want to read one and that he was really used to fish smells.”

Papa wasn’t smiling. “I don’t want one, let alone six.”

Kam Fung said wistfully, “I thought that you would want to give them to your brothers and mother in China.”

“My mother bought another Bible a few years ago,” Papa replied, “and that’s all she needs.”

A huge gust of wind almost blew away his last words. A pole loaded with wet clothes plopped heavily on top of him.

Kam Fung stifled her laughter. “Oh, Papa, are you OK?”

He was still sputtering under the wet clothes when someone raced by their booth, yelling breathlessly, “There’s a typhoon headed this way! The other end of the market’s already closing up.”

Raindrops were starting to fall as Kam Fung and Papa rushed home. She hoped that the fishing boat, where she had lived all her life, would be safely anchored. But when they reached the familiar inlet of the South China Sea, her home was nowhere in sight.

Papa pursed his lips with worry. “We’ll have to take the sampan to find them. Your brothers aren’t that expert in handling a boat in a storm, and they may not realize how serious their situation is.”

Papa started the engine as Kam Fung clambered into the craft beside him. The sea was rolling angrily, but Kam Fung was never afraid when Papa was handling a boat. She could barely see the outline of the island of Tanzao. It seemed to bob up and down before her eyes. None of the few boats thrashing about looked like her home. She hoped that their fishing boat had not been forced out into the open sea.

Then she heard Papa yell above the wind and the motor, “I see them! They’re coming in!”

Mama ran out onto the deck as Papa pulled the sampan up beside the rolling fishing boat. She lowered a rope for securing the sampan to the larger boat.

Kam Fung felt herself sighing as Papa caught the rope. But she also felt something else. It was the powerful tremor of a gigantic wave roaring toward them. Without glancing up, she knew that it would engulf them. The sampan was capsizing! Kam Fung felt as if she were rolling in slow motion into the swirling sea.

The frightened girl was certain that Papa would come and scoop her out of the water, but no strong arms came. Thrashing wildly, she tried to escape the surging waves that threatened to envelop her and sink her to the depths. Thrusting her head above the foaming water, she gulped for air. The boat! Where is it? She suddenly glimpsed it between two waves. It was so far away—and it was slipping farther away with each forbidding wave! Then the sea grabbed her and pulled her under again.

Kam Fung opened her eyes, but nothing registered at first. Finally she could focus on Mama, who was leaning over her with a damp cloth. Kam Fung gradually became aware that she was lying on her own bed in their boat, and she jerked in panic and sat up. “Where’s Papa?”

“I’m right here,” he said soothingly and took a step toward her. Mama gently laid her back down.

“Everything’s going to be OK now,” said Papa. “For a while we thought that we’d lost you in that terrible sea—”

“And then it was like a miracle,” interjected Mama. “We found you battered against some rocks on shore. At first we thought that you were dead. But somehow Papa knew all along that you weren’t.”

“And it may have been a miracle, too,” said her brother Lung Fai as he held up a bright pink plastic bag. “I watched you capsizing,” he continued, “and couldn’t figure out why you kept clinging to a plastic bag. Now I think I know. We found your bag, still tightly knotted, washed up on the shore not far from you.” Lung Fai held up a soggy copy of the Book of Mormon. “I’ve already read a few pages,” he said. “There’s some reason that you were supposed to have these books.”

Soon Kam Fung was able to eat some of her mother’s rice soup. She could tell by the sound of the rain and the waves that the worst of the storm was over.

Kam Fung watched as Papa picked up one of her books. “I might read one of these books just for curiosity’s sake,” he said casually. He opened the front cover, looked at it in surprise, then set it down and opened another. “People’s pictures are inside the books, with words written in Chinese.” When he opened the sixth one, his eyes widened and he drew in a sharp breath. His words spilled out excitedly. “I know this man! He’s my cousin!” He rushed to Mama and jabbed his finger at the picture. “That’s the son of my mother’s oldest brother. My uncle and his family went away many years ago, after the big war, and my mother has wondered for years about her brother and his family. Look! Here’s an American address. Now I can tell my mother the happy news.”

Papa began reading his cousin’s words out loud: “I never knew when I was still living in China that I could find such a wonderful thing as the true gospel of Jesus Christ and its teachings about how we can live together forever as a family. I only hope that some of the people I have left behind may come to know this important message. I know that the Book of Mormon you are holding has been sent from God to help us. …”

Papa fell silent. Then he slowly turned to the first chapter of First Nephi and began reading.