Gospel Story Finder

“Sister Brimley, could I talk to you for a minute?” I asked after Primary.
“Of course, Sara. Let’s gather up the pictures and fold the chairs while we talk.”
I stacked the pictures, but we didn’t get to the chairs for a while.
“Lots of people must know about that lesson you gave today on giving,” I began. “And since my dad’s been out of work, people are always bringing us things. Mom and Dad get tears in their eyes when they talk about how good everyone’s been to us. But now I’d like to give someone something. You always say it’s more blessed to give than to receive. How do you think it makes me feel to always receive? I’d like to take food to someone who’s hungry, but Mom says we don’t have any extras.” I couldn’t control the tremor in my voice. “I hope I can be rich when I grow up.”
Sister Brimley sat across from me and took my hand in hers. Her eyes looked deep into mine, and she gave me her special warm smile. “Sara, you don’t have to be rich to give of yourself. Jesus wasn’t rich, and look how much He gave.”
“I’m not Jesus. I can’t do miracles to help people.”
“Will you do something for me, Sara? Will you look for one person this week who needs something you can share? Will you, like Jesus, give of yourself?” Sister Brimley continued to look me straight in the eyes. I had to say yes.
Monday at school, I looked at the other kids. They had better clothes and shoes than I did, so I couldn’t offer them mine. Anyway, I didn’t have any extras. Everyone had a lunch, so I couldn’t share my sandwich. I was afraid that the whole week would be like this and that I’d have to tell Sister Brimley that I hadn’t found anyone to help.
At afternoon recess, the spring sun warmed my back. There must have been a hundred birds singing among the tiny yellow-green leaves on the big tree in the playground. I forgot about giving and Mrs. Brimley, took a jump rope, and walked towards Maria. Maria just moved here last week, and she doesn’t speak English very well. She mostly stands by herself on the playground.
“Maria, want to jump? Like this.” I jumped a few times. Maria’s dark eyes sparkled, and the shadow of a smile tickled her bronze face. She nodded. As I swung the rope over my head, she jumped in with me. We were laughing together by the end of recess.
When the bell rang to go home, Mrs. Hansen, our teacher, put her arm around me and whispered, “Sara, thank you for playing with Maria today. That’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh since she came.”
Suddenly I understood that this was what Sister Brimley meant when she said for me to give of myself. I really did have something to give! I determined right then and there to find someone every day to share with.
The next day, I asked Maria to come with me. We went to Mrs. Smith’s house after school. She was sitting in an old chair on her front porch, rocking with her cat. I asked her if she’d like me to read her a story.
“Why, Sara, I’d love that, but I gave all my books away when my eyes got bad.”
“That’s OK. I brought one from school.” I sat on her top step with Maria and read her my favorite Dr. Seuss story. Mrs. Smith and Maria laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks. I think it must be their favorite story too. Mrs. Smith asked if we could come again next Tuesday. This giving of yourself was wonderful. Mrs. Smith and Maria looked really happy, and I hadn’t felt this great in ages.
On Wednesday Maria and I helped Brother Swenson plant petunias. It’s hard for him to stoop that low, but Maria and I planted his whole bed in a half hour. He told us to come back in the summer and pick a bouquet for our moms.
By the weekend, I had started giving to my family. I cleaned the kitchen one evening for Mom, I played a game of checkers with Dad, and I helped my little brother, Jason, with his puzzle.
On Sunday I couldn’t wait until Primary to talk to Sister Brimley, so I met her at the chapel door. “Sister Brimley, you won’t believe this! I found six people to give of myself to this week.” I told her about each of them. “But I can’t think of anyone for today.”
Sister Brimley stooped and put her arm around me and spoke in a tiny, low voice. “You’ve already given of yourself, Sara—to me. You see, I was very, very discouraged. I felt as though I wasn’t doing a good job as a teacher. You showed me that I can make a difference. Sometimes we may need things, but often we just need people to just give of themselves, as Jesus did and as you have. I think that He must be very pleased with you.”
Both Sara and Sister Brimley felt good about themselves as they went into the chapel together.

During the Mexican Revolution, Catherine left her home on fifteen minutes notice. She buried her silver and dishes and left a cake baking in the oven and chickens frying on the stove. Taking only one roll of bedding and one trunk of necessities, Catherine quietly closed the door on the fourth home she had been driven from because of her religious beliefs. As they drove away, two daughters stood up in the back of the wagon and began singing “Count Your Many Blessings.” (Hymns, no. 202.) Lula saw her mother, tears rolling down her cheeks, take one last look towards her husband’s grave, then smile at the children.

I recently saw a video showing a day in the life of a 14-year-old young man in India named Amar. He gets up early and works two jobs, before and after school, six and a half days a week. His income provides a substantial part of his family’s livelihood. He hurries home on his worn bicycle from his second job after dark and somehow squeezes in a few hours of homework before dropping onto his bed on the floor between sleeping siblings around eleven o’clock at night. Although I’ve never met him, I feel proud of him for his diligence and courage. He is doing the very best he can with his limited resources and opportunities, and he is a blessing to his family.

Despite the presiding officer’s discernment, Joseph Smith set up the law of witnesses, which requires that evidence and testimony must be used to prove a person’s acts.42 But the spiritual recognition that something is wrong or that something is right, he had. He once prayed to know whether a choir in Nauvoo was singing acceptable praises to God. The Lord made known to him that the director was immoral. Shortly the man resigned and left.43 Joseph was discerning, although he trusted many beyond their ­trustworthiness—which perhaps was a function of what Brigham Young described as his “regarding everything according to the circumstances of the case and every person according to the intrinsic worth.”44

Once, on a very nice day in Washington Square Park in New York City, my companion and I were contacting in the park with little success. In the park, people were watching some Broadway-quality street dancers. At the end of the performance, my companion approached the dancers with a challenge: “We have the fastest man in NYC with us today, and he would like to have a race. Which one of you is the fastest?” One of them came out and said, “That’s me, bro. I’m a runner too.” The other dancers blocked the street, and the crowd leaving the dance performance was called back. Someone exclaimed, “It’s the Mormons!” Soon we had a large audience for the race.
My opponent was in athletic dancing clothes. I was in my suit, holding my Book of Mormon. The dancer asked if I wanted to give my suit coat and Book of Mormon to my companion, but I said, “I’m good. I will run with them.” He started the race with, “On your mark, get set, go,” and took off. I gave him a head start of a couple seconds, and then I began to chase him down. As I passed the dancer, I held up the Book of Mormon and said, “The Church is true, bro!” and ran on to win the race. Because of this performance, we became very popular in the neighborhood. Many people immediately took pass-along cards, and we made several return appointments. Gospel seeds were planted.

When I was a young missionary assigned to the British Mission, my first area of labor was in what was then the Bristol District. One of the local Church leaders emphasized that missionaries serving in that area needed to be “shipshape and Bristol fashion.”

Initially I didn’t understand the point he was making. I soon learned the history and meaning of the nautical phrase “shipshape and Bristol fashion.” At one time Bristol was the second busiest port in the United Kingdom. It had a very high tidal range of 43 feet (13 m), the second highest in the world. At low tide when the water receded, the old ships would hit bottom and fall on their sides, and if the ships were not well built, they would be damaged. In addition, everything that was not carefully stowed away or tied down would be thrown in a chaotic fashion and ruined or spoiled. After I understood what that phrase meant, it was clear that this leader was telling us that, as missionaries, we must be righteous, follow rules, and be prepared for difficult situations.

When I was 14, I met some young women who were excellent leaders. At that time, my family moved across the United States and became members of a new ward. I do not remember who served in the Mia Maid class presidency, but I clearly remember that the young women were particularly kind to me. They sincerely embraced a scared and scrawny new girl as a long-lost friend and made me feel welcome. Coming from Delaware, where I was the only Mormon girl in my junior high school and where the only other Mormon girl I knew lived an hour’s drive from my home, I thought, “This must be what heaven is like!”
For the first time in my life, I had a circle of friends who lived the standards in For the Strength of Youth, invited me to participate in activities, and shared their testimonies of the gospel with me. Their examples of loving-kindness did more to secure me to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at that time than any talk or lesson could have done. In their love and Christlike light, they were the message of the gospel of Christ, and they were the ones to lead and guide me into His fold.

My father had a horse and buggy when I was a boy. Then one summer day in 1916, a wonderful thing happened. It was an unforgettable thing. When he came home that evening he arrived in a shining black, brand-new Model T Ford. It was a wonderful machine, but by today’s standards it was a crude and temperamental sort of thing. For instance, it did not have a self-starter. It had to be cranked. You learned something very quickly about cranking that car. You retarded the spark, or the crank would kick back and break your hand. When it rained, the coils would get wet, and then it would not start at all. From that car I learned a few simple things about making preparation to save trouble. A little canvas over the cowl would keep the coils dry. A little care in retarding the spark would make it possible to crank without breaking your hand.

But the most interesting thing was the lights. The car had no storage battery. The only electricity came from what was called a magneto. The output of the magneto was determined by the speed of the engine. If the engine was running fast, the lights were bright. If the engine slowed, the lights became a sickly yellow. I learned that if you wanted to see ahead as you were going down the road, you had to keep the engine running at a fast clip.

So, just as I’d discovered, it is with our lives. Industry, enthusiasm, and hard work lead to enlightened progress. You have to stay on your feet and keep moving if you are going to have light in your life. I still have the radiator cap of that old 1916 Model T. Here it is. It is a reminder of lessons I learned seventy-seven years ago.

When David was a boy, he dreamed of playing professional baseball. He thought the greatest moment of his life would be to hit the game-winning home run in game seven of the World Series.

When he was older, he changed his mind about this dream. One day Elder Haight was sitting with his wife and three children—one of whom was about to be married—in a sealing room of the Los Angeles Temple. Looking around the room, he thought, “David, you had your priorities all mixed up. Being a hero in a worldly event isn’t the great moment of life. … The great moment … is here, … because all I have that is really important is in this room. All of my children are committed to the Church.”1

I would like to start with a story from Church News:
He stood to bear his testimony and could barely see over the pulpit. The counselor in the bishopric lowered the podium and 8-year-old Brandon, with tears in his eyes, bore a heart-rending testimony with such emotion that his little voice quivered, and it truly touched the congregation. When he finished and turned to leave, the bishop saw that Brandon couldn't leave. His fingers had been pinched when the pulpit had been lowered. The bishop quickly motioned for his counselor to raise the pulpit and Brandon was released and quickly returned to his seat. He leaned over and quietly whispered to his mother, 'Now I understand why people cry when they bear their testimony!'[1]

I remember quite clearly the night when a young woman came to me as her bishop and confessed some rather sordid activities. I remember thinking as she began to talk that I knew what kind of person she was. That is, I knew from the way she dressed and talked that she was "dangerous." I knew that when I had been a student at BYU a few years earlier I would not have associated with her. I remember pleading with the Lord that He would help me to help this young woman, that He would bless me to overcome my first, rather judgmental, impression enough to really understand her. As she continued with her story, I felt something I can only describe as the pure love of Christ come into my heart. I know that this feeling didn't come from my natural self--I'm not that good. She felt that love and I witnessed miraculous healing and change in her over the ensuing months. I know from personal experiences like this one that the Lord can fill us with His love so that we can overcome our personal limitations and selfishness to help each other.

Four hundred and fifty kilometers northwest of Udorn, in Chiang Mai, workers are installing a fountain in the manicured grounds of a spacious, modern home. Three children are busily watching. They are Atikun, 13, Punjaree, 8, and Nathanon, 6. Their mother, Datchanee Limsukhon, is the only member of the Church in the family. Her husband, a neurologist, does not object to her Church membership, but sometimes she has to adjust her Church participation to meet her family’s needs.
Sister Limsukhon’s first contact with the Church came when, as a young woman, she heard branch members singing in a rented hall in Bangkok. She liked what she heard and wanted to join “that church” so she could sing with the other members. She believed the missionary discussions, but her family initially refused permission for her to be baptized. “But I knew that I wanted to be baptized, and I was in November 1969.”
In January 1970, she returned to her home in Chiang Mai and earned a nursing degree from the local university. She then went to the Church’s Language Training Mission in Hawaii, where she taught Thai to the missionaries for four months before she was called on a mission herself. On completing her mission in Bangkok, she had the opportunity to go to the United States for additional nursing experience in Utah and Texas. She then went to England to marry her Thai fiance, who was studying there.
When her husband completed his schooling, they returned home to Chiang Mai, where he has been in practice ever since.
“Since I am the only Latter-day Saint in my family, the standards of the Church are most important to me,” says Sister Limsukhon. “I am committed to living them.”

As a boy, I learned a great lesson of faith and sacrifice as I worked on my grandfather’s farm during the terrible economic depression of the 1930s. The taxes on the farm were unpaid, and Grandfather, like so many, had no money. There was a drought in the land, and some cows and horses were dying for lack of grass and hay. One day when we were harvesting what little hay there was in the field, Grandfather told us to take the wagon to the corner of the field where the best stand of hay was, fill the wagon as full as we could, and take it to the tithing yard as payment of his tithing.
I wondered how Grandfather could use the hay to pay tithing when some of the cows that we were depending upon to sustain us might starve. I even questioned if the Lord expected that much sacrifice. Ultimately I marveled at his great faith that somehow the Lord would provide. The legacy of faith he passed on to his posterity was far greater than money, because he established in the minds of his children and grandchildren that he loved the Lord and His holy work more than earthly things. Grandfather never became wealthy, but he died at peace with the Lord and with himself.

My father passed away in April 2013. As I prepared to speak at his funeral, I realized how blessed I was to know and love his favorite scriptures. He shared them in family gatherings, and he read them with me when I needed counsel, guidance, or strengthening of my faith. I heard him share them in talks and assignments. I not only knew them, but I can still remember the sound of his voice and the spiritual feelings I had as he shared them. Through sharing scriptures and feelings, my father helped me to establish a firm foundation of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

Life in New York City is always a challenge, but Leury Perez, a 17-year-old priest in the Inwood First Ward, New York New York Stake, seems to take it all in stride. When he’s not winning piano performance competitions, attending early-morning seminary, studying for school, organizing youth conference as a stake youth leader, or leading the local Scout troop as senior patrol leader, he helps his busy single mom, Bienvenida (below with Leury), at home.
Leury belongs to a priests quorum of one, so he carries a lot of responsibility. “I have been visiting a lot of people who can’t go to church and taking them the sacrament on Sundays. I also go home teaching,” says Leury.
Priests quorum lessons this year have explored mission preparation, and Leury credits the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet; the Duty to God program; his adviser, Jonathan Horey; and his bishop, Mark Johnson, with helping him keep his eye on the goal of a mission. “I would like to go to Japan,” says Leury. “It seems like a cool place to go.”
“Having Leury active in the priests quorum tremendously blesses my life,” says Bienvenida. “He loves the Church and is very spiritual. I want to be an example for him, but he ends up being an example to me in many ways.”
Bienvenida moved to New York from the Dominican Republic in 1974 and was baptized into the Church seven years later. Leury was born and raised in New York and joined the Church when he was 10 years old. At age 7 Leury started taking piano lessons and developed into a fine young pianist, winning several competitions. After serving a mission Leury hopes to attend college, where he plans to major in computer animation and programming and to minor in music.
What is the Perez family’s secret to keeping it all together? “Knowing the commandments helps us to stay focused on the important things in life,” says Bienvenida. “As a single mom with two jobs, I know that the Church is very important. Seeing Leury blossom in the faith gives me a sense of happiness that I cannot quantify.”

An even more sobering account is that of my friend whose husband was one of the top ten medical students at Temple University. On the night before his graduation, he fell and severely fractured his skull. He was in a coma for six weeks. After recovering he had many hard decisions to make—like whether to continue his training for surgery, or if it would be better to become a dermatologist. He and his sweetheart carefully considered the extent of his injury and the demanding field he had chosen, and it was decided that there would be less strain, and probably greater success, if he changed his specialty. Another difficult decision was whether to marry. He asked himself if he would be well enough and capable of caring for a wife and children. After hours and hours of discussion and planning they finally determined that, perhaps if he had plenty of rest and good care, he could continue to heal, and he could assume the responsibilities of a husband and father. Other than the constant pain in his head, he led a somewhat normal life and had a good practice for thirteen years. Three children were born to him and his wife during that time, and then all their fears came to pass. The pain was so constant and so intense, and he became so forgetful, that upon the best medical advice he underwent surgery to remove the adhesions that filled his head. They were successfully removed, but he contracted meningitis with the accompanying high fever. He lost control of his bodily functions. His memory was irreparably damaged, and his wife could no longer give him the complete care he needed at home. He would have to be hospitalized for as long as he lived. Brokenheartedly, she faced the reality that this special chapter of their lives together had to be closed. A new one was opening. It was one of faith, love, devotion, and further adaption.

For 22 years this courageous woman has worked to support herself and their children, but during this time, through her determined effort, she has made their father a very special part of their lives. She has taken their family activities to his hospital room as often as possible although many times he couldn’t even remember that family had been there.

Many have said to the wife, “There isn’t a court in the land that wouldn’t give you a divorce.”

She smiles and says, “At another time and in another place we want to be together honoring the commitments we have made to each other. He won’t have the encumbrance of a broken body then, and we will be able to live abundantly and everlastingly together.”

Our second daughter, Yelyena, was born in Minsk on January 6, 1999. Igor had a steady job now, but we still didn’t have enough money to go to the temple. Gradually we saved, however, and at the end of August 2000, we took the children to Germany. Igor has relatives in Kaiserslautern, and we stayed with them.
Early on the morning of September 2, we began our journey to the temple in Frankfurt. Although the trip was very tiring and included two transfers, we were full of enthusiasm and joy. We are grateful to all the temple workers, the temple president, and also the sisters who watched our daughters while we went through the endowment session. That was an unforgettable day! It is difficult to put into words the feelings we experienced there, but they were very good.
After the endowment session, we went into the sealing room, where Yelyena was already crying (it was her nap time). I hardly heard any of the sealing ceremony because of the crying, but we were very happy anyway. That was the most wonderful trip of our lives because we were in the house of the Lord.

“Shortly after I was called as a General Authority, I went to Elder Harold B. Lee for counsel. He listened very carefully to my problem and suggested that I see President David O. McKay. President McKay counseled me as to the direction I should go. I was very willing to be obedient but saw no way possible for me to do as he counseled me to do.
“I returned to Elder Lee and told him that I saw no way to move in the direction I was counseled to go. He said, ‘The trouble with you is you want to see the end from the beginning.’ I replied that I would like to see at least a step or two ahead. Then came the lesson of a lifetime: ‘You must learn to walk to the edge of the light, and then a few steps into the darkness; then the light will appear and show the way before you.’ Then he quoted these 18 words from the Book of Mormon:
“‘Dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith’” (Ether 12:6).
President Boyd K. Packer, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “The Edge of the Light,” BYU Magazine, Mar. 1991, magazine.byu.edu.

President Brigham Young first became aware of the perilous situation of these companies on October 4, 1856. The next day he stood before the Saints in Salt Lake City and said, “Many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains, … and they must be brought here; we must send assistance to them … before the winter sets in.”
He asked the bishops to provide 60 mule teams, 12 or more wagons, and 12 tons (10,886 kg) of flour and proclaimed, “Go and bring in those people now on the plains.”
The combined number of pioneers in the Willie and Martin handcart companies was approximately 1,100. Some 200 of these precious Saints died along the trail. Without the timely rescue, many more would have perished.
The winter storms began nearly two weeks after the first rescuers left Salt Lake City. The accounts of members of the Willie and Martin companies describe devastating challenges after the storms began. These accounts also depict the great joy when the rescuers arrived.
Describing the arrival scene, Mary Hurren said: “Tears streamed down the cheeks of the men, and the children danced for joy. As soon as the people could control their feelings, they all knelt down in the snow and gave thanks to God.”

Being Head Girl (which is similar to student-body president) means a lot to Laura Gilmour of Lochwinoch, Renfrewshire, Scotland. “It’s not the easiest thing I have ever done,” she says. “There are a lot of activities and seminars to help organise, but I really enjoy doing it.”
In addition to leadership responsibilities, Laura keeps up with her seminary studies, is learning violin, bass guitar, and attends numerous science-oriented conferences.

Those who know football (soccer) say 12-year-old Owen Redmond could be one of the best Dublin, Ireland, has ever seen. Scouts are already coming to Owen’s games. Within a few years he could be offered a chance to play in a professional club’s reserve league. But even that won’t interfere with one plan he has.
“I won’t miss out on my mission, no matter where I am. If a mission interferes with my football, I’ll just go anyway. It will work out as long as I keep the Church before anything else.”

When young women of the Swansea First Ward, Merthyr Tydfil Wales Stake, saw pictures of people starving in Romania, they wanted to help.
So they went to local businesses and asked for donations—not just money, but also products and services, for an auction at the ward house. It seemed everyone in town came, and money went to buy much-needed food, medicine, and clothing.