Gospel Story Finder

Growing up, I had lots of fun with my older brother and my younger brother. We had water fights with water hoses and garbage can lids. We took apart roller skates and made them into scooters. And I always looked for ways to earn money. One summer, I picked vegetables from our garden and sold them around the neighborhood—until my mother found out! I was selling what she was counting on as food for our own family. When I got older, I mowed lawns and did other jobs around the neighborhood.

Danny clutched his new sailboat tightly as he walked with his mother toward the pond in the park. Today he was going to sail his boat for the first time. Carefully he set it on the water. Then, holding onto a long string attached to the boat, he watched as a breeze caught the sail and moved the boat across the water.
On the other side of the pond, another boy was also watching the sailboat. Danny felt proud when he saw his sailboat skimming easily across the pond, and he wondered if the other boy wished that he had a sailboat too.
Before Danny realized it, the string attached to the boat slipped from his hand. He looked at his boat getting farther and farther from him. “Mom! Mom! My boat’s getting away!” he shouted.
“Don’t worry,” Mother said. “The wind will probably blow it back to where you can reach it.”
Danny waited, but the breeze stopped, and the sailboat just sat in the middle of the pond.
Suddenly the boy on the other side of the pond picked up some rocks and began throwing them into the water near the boat.
Danny ran to the water’s edge and yelled. “Stop it! Stop it! You’re going to sink my boat!”
The boy ignored Danny and kept throwing rocks.
Danny’s eyes filled with tears as he watched his new boat moving wildly up and down in the splashing water. “Oh, Mother, I hate that boy. I hate him!” he cried.
Suddenly Danny realized that his boat was getting closer to the opposite shore. Finally the boy reached out with a stick and pulled the boat to him.
“Now he’s going to steal my boat!” Danny wailed.
The boy picked up the boat and ran around the pond. To Danny’s surprise, the boy handed him the sailboat.
“Hi. My name’s Bobby. I thought I could get your boat back for you by throwing rocks into the water and making the water ripple to move your boat.”
Danny felt his face get hot. He was sorry he had shouted at the boy, and he felt ashamed for saying he hated Bobby.
Danny smiled at the other boy and said, “Thanks, Bobby. Would you like a turn at sailing my boat? I just got it yesterday.”

Recently in the small village of Ubon, Thailand, a member family by the name of Tan was beset with what seemed to be insurmountable problems. The father had lost his job, they had no money, the children were sick and malnourished. They were being forced to remove their humble home from the government land upon which it was built, and they had no place to go.
At this point a fine priesthood leader, who had been using welfare services missionaries as a resource, stepped in and averted what could otherwise have been a tragic situation. Under his guidance and with the assistance of all the branch members, a piece of land was obtained, and the Tan family home was dismantled, transported, and rebuilt. Brother Tan began farming the land and started a family produce business which is now flourishing. Some hard work, dedication, and love from local leaders and members, aided by the suggestions of welfare services missionaries, caused a miracle for one family and a great learning and growing experience for a whole branch.

My mom was collecting blankets and warm clothing to send to a refugee camp. She told me some children don’t have any blankets to keep warm. I found my favorite blanket, my “cloud blankie,” which is blue with clouds on it. I brought it to my mom and told her I wanted to donate it. She asked if I was sure, and I said yes. It was really hard for me to give up my favorite blanket. I knew I would miss it, but I did it anyway. I knew it would help another child.
Megan B., age 7, Ohio, USA

Rex watched the dust cloud around his bare feet as he walked up the path from the river in the summer sunshine. As he came within view of the farmhouse, he saw his mother tending the vegetable garden out back. She was a hard worker; her pantry was filled with canned beans, beets, tomatoes, and sweet fruit for the winter. She sewed and baked and took care of her family, but when she had a moment to spare, she spent it on her little flower garden in the front yard.
It wasn’t much to look at. With the list of chores she tackled each day, it was difficult to find time to weed and water her flower patch. Each year when the seed catalog came with the mail, she spent a week’s worth of evenings sitting by the fire, carefully turning through the pages to find just the right seeds for the coming year.
Suddenly, something flapping in the front yard caught Rex’s attention. His mother jumped up from the vegetable patch and ran toward her flowers. “Scat! Get out of here, you old turkeys!” There, in her flower garden, a flock of turkeys made a mess of her summer efforts. All the stems had been snapped, the flowers ruined.
Rex ran to help his mother, shooing the flock back to Mr. Lukin’s farm. Like many of the local farmers, Mr. Lukin had recently traded in his hens for a pack of turkeys. But the turkeys’ wings were stronger than hens’ wings, and they had escaped.
“Get on home!” Rex’s mother yelled, her face red. The turkeys waddled single file, demolishing every plant in their path. “Rex, chase those turkeys back where they belong.” She looked sadly at the trampled flowers.
Rex quickly herded the turkeys back down the road, yelling and flapping his arms to spur them on. As the turkeys entered Mr. Lukin’s yard, Rex decided to make one last attempt to make them stay. Looking down, he grabbed a rock lying on the ground. He yelled and threw the rock with all his might, intending to give them a good scare.
Thunk. Rex watched with horror as the largest of Mr. Lukin’s turkeys toppled over. Oh no. Thoughts of old Mr. Lukin raced through Rex’s mind. The man had never been kind to Rex or his brothers. Walking over to the turkey, Rex gave the bird a nudge with his foot, hoping for some sign of life. Nothing—the bird was dead.
What was he going to do? Mr. Lukin would be furious. Looking around, he realized no one had seen him throw the rock. No one would ever know what had happened. Maybe Mr. Lukin would think the bird had died of old age or eaten something bad. Maybe Mr. Lukin wouldn’t even notice the bird was gone. Without another thought, Rex grabbed the turkey and hid it in the bushes. He wouldn’t say a word. No one would ever know. He turned and ran home as fast as he could, fueled by uncertainty and guilt.
His mother praised him for his quick work with the turkeys, unaware of the turmoil in Rex’s belly. How could he tell her what he had done? What would she think of him? As the sickness welled inside him, tears filled his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” his mother asked.
He ran to her arms, sobbing as he unloaded the whole story, complete with his fears of Mr. Lukin’s anger. Finally, as his sobs quieted, she pulled back to look at him. “Rex, take the bird to Mr. Lukin. If you tell him what happened—”
“Oh no! I couldn’t do that!” Rex panicked as he imagined Mr. Lukin’s angry response.
“Rex, believe me,” his mother said. “You will never have peace if you don’t face him and confess. Mr. Lukin deserves to hear the truth.”
“Mr. Lukin will be so mad! He’s mean and he’ll yell at me.” Rex’s eyes filled with fresh tears as he looked at his mother’s tender face. Then he thought of Heavenly Father. Rex realized Heavenly Father expected him to tell the truth.
Finally, looking down, Rex asked quietly, “Will you go with me?”
The walk to Mr. Lukin’s house was torture. Leaving his mother in the yard, Rex stepped to the front porch with the dead turkey. He cautiously knocked, praying Mr. Lukin wouldn’t answer. The door opened.
“Hi, Mr. Lukin.” Rex handed him the bird. “He dug in Mama’s flower beds and I had to chase him out. I threw a rock and he fell. I … I guess I killed him. I’m sorry! Oh, please don’t be mad, Mr. Lukin!” Rex looked at the ground, too frightened to watch the reaction.
There was a moment’s pause, and then Mr. Lukin spoke. “That’s all right, that’s all right. We’ll eat him for dinner today.” A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
Rex couldn’t believe what he had heard. As he walked home with his mother, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He realized that doing the right thing was truly easier in the end. Facing his consequences had been far less painful than living with the guilt.

Making and keeping covenants not only binds us to God and His Son but also connects us with one another. Some years ago, I was visiting Costa Rica with family and attended sacrament meeting at a local Church unit. When we entered, we were welcomed warmly by several of the members. During the meeting, we sang the sacrament hymn with the small congregation. We watched the priests prepare the sacrament and then listened as they recited the sacramental prayers. As the bread and water were passed to us, I was overwhelmed with God’s love for each one of these fellow covenant-keepers. I had not met any of them before that meeting but felt unity and kinship with them because we had all made and were striving to keep the same promises to God.

When I was 18 I was the first in my family to find the restored gospel. After my baptism I began to really understand how the gospel could help my family.
As a result of these feelings, I started to do family history and my love for my ancestors grew as I worked and exercised my faith to find them. My desire to find them was so strong that on several occasions I traveled to my ancestors’ places of origin. Each trip brought new experiences, and my heart was turned to my ancestors (see Mal. 4:5–6).
Some time later I was called to serve as a family history consultant in my ward. My heart began to expand, and I began to love the ancestors of each person in my ward. As I searched parishes, archives, and libraries, I came to better understand the purpose of redeeming the dead.
Once I had my family history computer disk in my hands, I realized that the most important part of the work was still missing. I needed to go to the temple and provide my family beyond the veil with the ordinances that would enable them to be saved and join my family’s generations for eternity.
I was able to go to the temple when I went on my mission to Cochabamba, Bolivia. I began preaching the gospel in October 2000. A few months later my companion and I visited the temple with the youth from the ward where we were serving. I took my disk and was able to provide 599 names for ordinance work.
While I served as witness, my companion baptized the young people on behalf of my ancestors. What great joy I felt. The Spirit was with me, testifying of the truthfulness of what we were doing. I could feel my ancestors’ happiness and gratitude.
But there were other ordinances that still needed to be done. Because there were so many names, I turned them over to the temple. But I kept the names of my great-grandparents and their children, and later that month my companion and I, with the help of other missionaries, performed the work for them.
I am grateful to my Heavenly Father because, although I was far from my country and perhaps thought that I would baptize only the living, I was also able to participate in the work of redeeming the dead.
I am still trying to bring more souls to Christ and encouraging others to seek out their ancestors. I love this work, and I know that it is true and that Jesus Christ lives and loves us.

Illustrated by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Matozzi
In 1847 Latter-day Saint pioneers were traveling across what is now the United States to find their promised land in the West.
The Saints did not know exactly where they were supposed to go. Brigham Young was President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles at the time. He was the only one who knew where the Lord wanted them to establish Zion. But he was very ill.
Brigham Young: Elder Woodruff, I need to continue traveling westward.
Elder Woodruff: But you’re too sick!
Brigham Young: Nonsense. Just lay me in the back of your carriage.
On July 24, 1847, Elder Woodruff drove the team of horses pulling his carriage toward the Great Salt Lake. Lying in the back of the carriage was President Young.
Elder Woodruff: Heavenly Father, please bless President Young that he will know where to lead the Saints.
As soon as President Young saw the desert valley of the Great Salt Lake, he told Elder Woodruff to stop.
Brigham Young: This is the right place; for the Lord has shown it to me in a vision.
Twenty-two years later, Elder Woodruff remembered that event as he was writing in his journal.
Elder Woodruff: Today I attended a Pioneer Day celebration. We now number more than 100,000 souls. See what God hath wrought!

In the eastern part of the city, about 20 youth from the Colcapirhua Ward, Cochabamba Bolivia Los Alamos Stake, meet each day at 5:30 a.m. for a simple breakfast before seminary begins at 6:00.

“I get up early because I know that if I come to seminary it’s going to help me have the Spirit and be closer to God all day,” says Jenny Linares, 18.
Breakfast usually consists of bread with sugar and mate, an herbal drink, or api, a drink made with ground purple and white corn. But the youth come to seminary more for spiritual nourishment than for food.
“It’s fun to come to seminary,” says Luly Bravo, 14. “The youth brighten your day in the morning. We come to learn more about our Father in Heaven and His Son.”
“The truth is that the four years of seminary have made me think a lot about a mission,” says Diego Díaz, 18. “That’s why I am graduating from seminary, so I can go on a mission.”
Franz Condori, 20, of the Arocagua Ward, Cochabamba Bolivia Universidad Stake, agrees. He was baptized four years ago and plans to serve a mission soon. “When I became a member of this Church, I had already set the goal to go on a mission, and the four years in seminary have helped me a lot,” he says. “I know the scriptures we always read and study will help me answer the questions I might be asked when I become a missionary.”

No one knows when emergencies will strike. I am somewhat familiar with the case of a man who was highly successful in his profession. He lived in comfort. He built a large home. Then one day he was suddenly involved in a serious accident. Instantly, without warning, he almost lost his life. He was left a cripple. Destroyed was his earning power. He faced huge medical bills. He had other payments to make. He was helpless before his creditors. One moment he was rich, the next he was broke.

Since the beginnings of the Church, the Lord has spoken on this matter of debt. To Martin Harris through revelation He said: “Pay the debt thou hast contracted with the printer. Release thyself from bondage” (D&C 19:35).
President Heber J. Grant spoke repeatedly on this matter from this pulpit. He said: “If there is any one thing that will bring peace and contentment into the human heart, and into the family, it is to live within our means. And if there is any one thing that is grinding and discouraging and disheartening, it is to have debts and obligations that one cannot meet” (Gospel Standards, comp. G. Homer Durham [1941], 111).
We are carrying a message of self-reliance throughout the Church. Self-reliance cannot obtain when there is serious debt hanging over a household. One has neither independence nor freedom from bondage when he is obligated to others.
In managing the affairs of the Church, we have tried to set an example. We have, as a matter of policy, stringently followed the practice of setting aside each year a percentage of the income of the Church against a possible day of need.
I am grateful to be able to say that the Church in all its operations, in all its undertakings, in all of its departments, is able to function without borrowed money. If we cannot get along, we will curtail our programs. We will shrink expenditures to fit the income. We will not borrow.
One of the happiest days in the life of President Joseph F. Smith was the day the Church paid off its long-standing indebtedness.
What a wonderful feeling it is to be free of debt, to have a little money against a day of emergency put away where it can be retrieved when necessary.
President Faust would not tell you this himself. Perhaps I can tell it, and he can take it out on me afterward. He had a mortgage on his home drawing 4 percent interest. Many people would have told him he was foolish to pay off that mortgage when it carried so low a rate of interest. But the first opportunity he had to acquire some means, he and his wife determined they would pay off their mortgage. He has been free of debt since that day. That’s why he wears a smile on his face, and that’s why he whistles while he works.
I urge you, brethren, to look to the condition of your finances. I urge you to be modest in your expenditures; discipline yourselves in your purchases to avoid debt to the extent possible. Pay off debt as quickly as you can, and free yourselves from bondage.
This is a part of the temporal gospel in which we believe. May the Lord bless you, my beloved brethren, to set your houses in order. If you have paid your debts, if you have a reserve, even though it be small, then should storms howl about your head, you will have shelter for your wives and children and peace in your hearts. That’s all I have to say about it, but I wish to say it with all the emphasis of which I am capable.

I actually go to a religious school, and we wear uniforms—purple blazers and black pants with a shirt and tie. Even though it’s a religious school, there’s not a lot of people who believe, and the people that are religious never really show it. I like all the missionary opportunities I get because I am the only member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in my school.
My phone wallpaper is a picture of Jesus because a lot of times people will see you open your phone and they’ll see it and ask about it. It’s a great gateway to a conversation about the gospel! I also have a wristband that says, “I Am a Child of God.” I wear it so much that I have a tan line because of it, but I just decided to keep wearing it because people are always asking me about it. A lot of times they ask if they can be a child of God. I just tell them that they are!

Nils heard creaking, cracking, and then a great big crash! Everyone in the house jumped up to find the two missionaries buried in a pile of blankets and boards that had been Nils’s bed. His bed had been too small for these two grown men who were in Sweden preaching the gospel.
They had come just after supper and had stayed so late that Mama had insisted they stay the night. She had let them sleep in Nils’s bed while he slept on the floor.
Dismayed, Nils looked at his broken bed. Mama whispered, “Don’t worry. Papa will make you a new one.”
But Papa didn’t seem to have time. He worked all day and talked to the missionaries in the evenings. He said that the Book of Mormon explained everything he hadn’t understood in the Bible.
Soon Mama, Papa, Peter, Botilla, and Bengt were baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Nils and his baby sister would have to wait for their eighth birthdays. Even though they were happy, everyone else in town seemed angry—especially Grandmother and Grandfather. Nils’s family decided to go to America where they could be with other Church members.
“You will like America, Nils,” Mama said, “and when we get there, we will get you a new bed.”
The ship to America was crowded with other Swedish and Danish members of the Church. Nils slept on top of two giant water barrels. He was afraid that when the ship rocked back and forth he would roll off! He could hardly wait to see land and sleep in a bed that held still.
But Nils’s first bed in America didn’t hold still. After leaving the ship, they got on a train. Nils fell asleep listening to the clacking of the wheels. When they got off the train at a place called Council Bluffs, they loaded their belongings in wagons pulled by oxen. Nils had thought the ship was crowded, but this was worse!
“No room for mattresses or pillows,” shouted the man in charge. “Pack only your clothes and blankets!”
“No pillow, no mattress, and no bed,” Nils sighed.
His family shared a wagon with a widow and a newly married couple. Every night Nils and his family slept on the ground, and day after dusty day they walked until they made it to Salt Lake City. Once there, they shared a house with another family.
The family’s first home of their own in the valley was a little room dug from a hillside, with a dirt floor. They slept in blankets that could be rolled up during the day. They longed for a more permanent home.
Finally Papa found them some land for a place of their own. Once again, they packed everything into their wagon and rode to Huntsville, Utah. The valley there was green and full of tall grass, and the hillsides were covered with trees. Their second home was a rough cabin with a leaky willow-branch roof and corn-husk mattresses on the floor.
Finally, on Christmas Day, they moved into a real log home with a wood floor, pine shingles on the roof, and real beds! Four and a half years after leaving Sweden, Nils snuggled under his quilt in his own new bed. It creaked a little when he moved, reminding him of the night his old bed broke. How much had changed! Nils smiled. Maybe someday he would grow up to be a missionary in Sweden, too. If he did, he would watch out for little beds!
Years later, Nils P. Lofgren did return to Sweden as a missionary.

While we were growing up in a small community, my father saw the need for my brother and me to learn the principle of work. As a result, he put us to work on a small farm on the edge of town where he had been raised. He ran the local newspaper, so he could not spend much time with us except early in the morning and in the evening. That was quite a responsibility for two young teenagers, and sometimes we made mistakes.
Our small farm was surrounded by other farms, and one of the farmers went in to see my father one day to tell him the things he thought we were doing wrong. My father listened to him carefully and then said, “Jim, you don’t understand. You see, I’m raising boys and not cows.” After my father’s death, Jim told us his story. How grateful I was for a father who decided to raise boys, and not cows. In spite of the mistakes, we learned how to work on that little farm, and I guess, although they didn’t say it in so many words, we always knew we were more important to Mother and Father than the cows or, for that matter, anything else.

When it comes to life-shaping events, Aarika can point to one that happened nine years ago. It was the day her mother was killed by a drunk driver. “I remember her very well, and I had a really close relationship with her even at a young age,” she says of her mom. “My dad always tells me how my mom would want me to be a strong member of the Church.” This is an interesting statement since Aarika’s dad, Jamie, when he first said that, wasn’t a member himself.
“I want to be good because my mom was a convert to the Church, and my dad finally joined, too, after my mom died. People helped bring my mom into the Church, and I saw how people helped my dad. I think that’s another reason why I try to tell people about the gospel.”
“After my mom died,” she continues, “the gospel was there at the perfect moment in my life. I have realized that I can still feel close to my mom and that she is here. I know I will see her again someday.”
A month before her visit to the Los Angeles Temple grounds, Aarika and her brother were sealed to their parents.
“I have seen how the Church changed my life and has made negative things into positive things. I have such a testimony of Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father, and I feel like I have a really close relationship with them,” she says. “I’ve had moments in my life where I’ve felt the Holy Ghost to where I’m just in tears. I love my friends so much that I want them to feel that, to feel that comfort, and to feel the love that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have for them.”

by Karen Blaisdell
In the rugged terrain of the coal fields of southern West Virginia, a small branch of the Church rests snugly against the side of a mountain. The Welch Branch of the Bluefield Virginia Stake has set standards of excellence in several areas. One in particular is the writing, producing, and performing of winning road shows.
Branch President Albert Chappell said, “That first year we lost miserably because we didn’t know what a road show was. However, we learned quickly and we came home and went to work. There was so much love and excitement you could feel it. The members wanted to do their best and have fun trying. Everyone did his part, from children to parents to the elderly, all working toward a common goal of excellence.”
If not acting or working backstage, members helped by making costumes or working with scenery. We have developed our talents in this area and have been tremendously blessed from our experience. Our shows serve as an excellent missionary tool and fill a great need for fellowship among our branch members. This year makes the fourth consecutive year the Welch Branch has won the Bluefield Virginia Stake road show competition.

Each night as we tucked our children into bed, we confidently told them yes, our family was going to go to the temple. As the time drew closer, we were able to give them a specific date.

On April 17, 1998, about six months after that life-changing day in our bishop’s office, John and I knelt at the altar of the Dallas Texas Temple with our five children. Many friends from our ward attended, and through their support I realized how eager they were for us to enjoy the blessings they knew in their own families. Without question, our sealing has been the single most important event in our life.

To my husband and me, the effects of our sealing seemed very tangible. For instance, we noticed a change in the atmosphere in our home, particularly in our children. They seemed more obedient, and while they weren’t perfect, they did consistently strive to make good choices and follow the commandments. We experienced an increase in family unity too.

Liking the school was one thing, but getting accepted was another thing altogether.

“I had to audition in front of the teacher,” Kamila said. “It was really hectic, because I had to create two storyboards [outlines of her film ideas] to present. I wasn’t prepared on the first day like everyone else, so I had to go on the second day. On the way there we got a little lost, and I was late. My mom told me not to worry and to call my dad. I did, and he said a prayer with me over the phone. It was nice.”

Kamila calmed down and presented her storyboards. The result? She was accepted into the program, and she just started her third year there.

That October conference, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles shared some of his experiences related to moving his young family to Connecticut for graduate school. We had also moved to Connecticut for graduate school. Then he described how he and his family had fit all of their possessions into their little car—we had done the same. He explained that when the trip began, his car had overheated and broken down not once but twice! Our vehicle also broke down twice.
Finally, he described a more recent experience of driving a reliable car by the spot where his car had broken down 30 years earlier. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself as a young father and said these words: “Don’t give up, boy. Don’t you quit. … There is help and happiness ahead—a lot of it. … You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come.”1Elder Holland’s experience helped me feel understood and loved. His example gave me the courage to seek the spiritual witness that more education for my husband was the will of the Lord for our family.

There will be times, however, when adapting to a sibling’s behavior is not enough. Simply avoiding or ignoring your brother or sister may not work when you feel your basic rights as a person are being overlooked. For Doug and Brent, the TV was a constant source of conflict. Both tended to be possessive of the television, always changing channels without asking. A channel-changing war inevitably ensued every time they sat down to watch the television. The fight would soon be blown out of proportion, and the two brothers were often at each other’s throats—literally—over a TV show.

Since the family owned one television, their behavior affected everyone. Occasionally, the boys made compromises, but they were temporary and soon forgotten. A long-term solution was needed.

This came in the form of a preplanned TV schedule decided on by the entire family at the start of each week. Mom and Dad limited the viewing hours and made sure the “TV menu” was fair for all. Brent and Doug’s fighting eventually stopped because they were often reminded of the schedule and the new compromise.

To you deacons, may I say that I recall the time when I was ordained a deacon. Our bishopric stressed the sacred responsibility which was ours to pass the sacrament. Emphasized were proper dress, a dignified bearing, and the importance of being clean inside and out. As we were taught the procedure in passing the sacrament, we were told how we should assist Louis McDonald, a particular brother in our ward who was afflicted with a palsied condition, that he might have the opportunity to partake of the sacred emblems.
How I remember being assigned to pass the sacrament to the row where Brother McDonald sat. I was fearful and hesitant as I approached this wonderful brother, and then I saw his smile and the eager expression of gratitude that showed his desire to partake. Holding the tray in my left hand, I took a small piece of bread and pressed it to his lips. The water was later served in the same way. I felt I was on holy ground. And indeed I was. The privilege to pass the sacrament to Brother McDonald made better deacons of us all.