Gospel Story Finder

A true story from the USA.
“My game is tomorrow, right?” Lucy asked as Mom tucked her in bed.
Mom nodded. “Yes! Tomorrow night at 6:00.”
Lucy could hardly wait. She had been looking forward to her team’s first softball game for weeks. And this year their jerseys were pink! She was so excited it was hard to fall asleep.
But the next morning, Lucy looked out the window and frowned. Grumpy gray clouds hung in the sky, and puddles were everywhere. It had rained all night.
She knelt to say her morning prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, please help the weather to be good for my softball game tonight.”
All day at school, Lucy thought about the game. She pictured herself wearing her new pink jersey, reaching up to make a winning catch. But outside, it was still rainy and wet.
Lucy said a quick prayer in her mind. Heavenly Father, please help the sun to come out soon so we can play tonight.
When the school bell rang, Lucy grabbed her backpack and ran outside. She could see the sun starting to peek out from behind the clouds!
But when Mom came to pick her up, she had bad news. “The game for tonight is canceled,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Lucy looked at the sky. “The sun is coming out, though. Maybe the rain will stop.”
“I know,” said Mom. “But the softball field flooded from all the water. So even if it stops raining, it’s too wet and muddy to play. They’ll reschedule the game for another time.”
Hot tears welled up in Lucy’s eyes. She was so disappointed! She really, really wanted to play tonight. Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer her prayers?
At home, Lucy felt as gray and grumpy as the rain clouds. She didn’t feel like reading her favorite book. And even though Mom made her favorite pasta for dinner, it didn’t taste as good.
After dinner, Lucy’s littlest sister, Ellie, crawled on her lap. “Play with me?” she asked.
Lucy sighed. “Sure,” she said. Then she had an idea. “We need something fun to do.”
She grabbed a broom and tied a scarf to the end of it to make a flag. Then she gathered all her sisters. She held up the flag and said, “Welcome to Camp Rainy Day! It’s where you go to have fun when you can’t play outside.”
Her sisters cheered.
“First,” Lucy said, “we’ll sing our camp song.”
The girls giggled as they made up a silly song and words to go with it. Then they marched around the room with their flag, singing as loud as they could.
“Now we need to set up our tent!” Lucy helped her sisters gather blankets and pillows to make a fort. It toppled over a few times. But when they fixed it, they all huddled inside the fort to play games.
Soon it was time for bed. “I hope it rains again tomorrow,” said Lucy’s sister Liza. “I want to play Camp Rainy Day again!”
“Thanks for playing with your sisters,” Mom said as she hugged Lucy goodnight. “You made your own sunshine out of a cloudy situation. I’m proud of you.”
Lucy felt happy as she climbed into bed. Her prayers weren’t answered the way she wanted. But Heavenly Father had still helped her find something fun to do with her family—and that was just as fun as wearing pink at her first softball game.
Illustrations by Apryl Stott

Just before my mom passed away, she asked me to take care of her younger sister, who was in a hospital in Korea. My family and I lived in California, USA, so unfortunately there seemed to be no way to fulfill my mom’s compassionate last wish. Then my job unexpectedly relocated me to South Korea, and I had to be separated from my family for a year. Although I was concerned about living far from my family, I also anticipated visiting my aunt and my dad, who was in a Korean hospital suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.
I asked Heavenly Father for divine help in living away from my family. As I thought about the time I would spend in Korea, I resolved to visit my dad, my aunt, and the temple weekly as well as to pray for my family daily.
Once I was in Korea, the bishop of my new ward called me to be the Young Men president and the Gospel Doctrine teacher. My ward and the hospitals where my dad and aunt stayed were far from each other, and I had a very demanding job; but Heavenly Father blessed me with strength and stamina to magnify my callings and to keep my resolutions.
Soon after I started visiting my aunt, I discovered she rarely had any visitors. I decided to pick her up and have her stay with me on the weekends at my hotel, which had an extra room. However, I had a problem: should I take her with me to church on Sunday? I thought she would neither be interested in nor understand the meetings, and she would have to wait for hours after church for me to be done with meetings and other duties. But for some reason I felt I should take her.
That Sunday I took her with me, and, as expected, she had to wait for me afterward. After my meetings, I took her back to the hotel to eat. I noticed that she held a bag. I asked her about it, and she said a sister had given her some snacks.
Whenever I had duties after church, this sister—who did not know my aunt—always offered my aunt snacks. One week during my Sunday School lesson, a familiar voice volunteered to read a scripture. I had never imagined my aunt would volunteer, but a kind sister sitting next to my aunt had prompted her to read for the class. Although my aunt was not good at socializing because of her time isolated in the hospital, all the members kindly greeted and chatted with her.
Every Sunday evening I would take her back to the hospital and promise to pick her up the next weekend, which always brought a happy smile to her face.
One day a friend of mine shared a concern that my aunt might have a hard time when my visits suddenly stopped when I left Korea. As my scheduled departure from Korea came closer, I felt mixed emotions—happy to be soon reunited with my family but distressed and sad about leaving my aunt alone.
Finally, I explained to my aunt that I would not be able to visit her as often. She paused a moment, obviously disappointed. Then she tried to compose herself and asked if I could visit her again in a year. I cried and desperately asked Heavenly Father to help this lady.
On my last Sunday in Korea, the bishop asked if ward members could pick up my aunt on Sundays to bring her to church. He said that a number of members were willing to visit her on a regular basis—so many that they would have to organize and take turns. I could not believe his offer! This was the unexpected answer to my desperate prayers.
Since the members lived far away from my aunt’s hospital, I offered to leave some money for them to cover the travel expenses, but the members refused to take my money. They told me they would take turns visiting once a month, but I found out later that they actually visited every week. One faithful sister picks up my aunt every Friday to attend institute and have lunch. She even took her to a beauty shop for a haircut. Another sister, a single mother of two teenage children, volunteered to pick her up every Sunday morning. She cooks for my aunt, takes her for a walk, and listens to music with her. Most importantly, she tries to be a friend, and my aunt has finally opened up and comfortably chats with her and other members. Every Sunday evening the bishop picks up my aunt from a member’s home after his long day of Church meetings and other duties to take her back to the hospital. Every Thursday he sends a kind email to me to report their heavenly service for my aunt.
I believe that my mom saw the actions of faithful Latter-day Saints serving her younger sister. And now I know, more clearly than ever, why we call our fellow Church members “brothers” and “sisters.”

It has been 150 years since the first Church hymnbook was published. Three months after the Church was organized, Joseph Smith received a revelation instructing his wife Emma to “make a selection of sacred hymns” (D&C 25:11). Emma’s first collection of ninety hymns, published in August 1835, measured 3? x 4 1/2? (8 cm x 11 cm) and contained only the words, which were sung to familiar melodies. It was not until 1889 that words and music were published together in an official third Church hymnbook.

“The year each child turns seven is a time to celebrate,” says Lori, a mother of four. She and her husband teach their children about baptism from the day they are born. However, when each child turns seven, their family begins more specific preparation. They hold a family home evening lesson each month about different topics related to baptism, such as covenants and Jesus’s example.
Lori says the lessons during the month of the children’s eighth birthdays are especially tender. She shows the children the clothes they wore when they received a name and a blessing, and she talks about the day that ordinance was performed.
“It is the perfect time to focus on the blessings of temple covenants,” Lori points out. “We always make a point of teaching that the choice to be baptized is the first step in preparing for the blessings of the temple.”

Later in my life, the missionaries came and shared the plan of salvation with me. I received a testimony of the truth and was so thrilled at what I was learning that from that day forward I had no problem in my conviction to keep the Sabbath day holy—but the practice of doing so was not always easy.
I was married at the time I began meeting with the missionaries and my husband did not share my enthusiasm for the Church—yet he was a good man with high principles and a Lutheran background. But I was challenged on how to stay true to my Sabbath day convictions without causing grief and discord within my family. During this “wilderness” time for me I received important advice that my family was most important and that I should do whatever I could to keep us together.
Baptism was withheld from me and so I did not have the constant companion of the Holy Spirit to guide me. But I loved my family and so I embarked on a course to stay true to honouring the Sabbath whenever possible and where I could, yet allowing myself to join in my husband’s social activities if he planned these on the Sabbath—without complaint. These activities were mostly contained within our circle of friends and sometimes they involved business or public functions.
Even after South Africa no longer adhered to keeping the Sabbath day holy, I chose never to fill my car with fuel or purchase household or personal goods on the Sabbath, something that was encouraged by my husband. An activity that my husband did enjoy was watching Formula One motor racing on TV on a Sunday afternoon and he wanted me to share his interest, which I did. Our home was generally peaceful on the Sabbath and we both liked to listen to good classical music and which I intermingled with sacred music. I also found, when it was appropriate to my conditions, to keep my Sunday dress on. This helped me mentally choose fitting activities and behaviour while staying in harmony with my family circumstances.
I had challenges at first in going to church and chose to attend only sacrament meeting and Sunday School—so as not to be away from home for too long. On Saturdays I always pre-­prepared a good Sunday meal and any animosity from my husband at my Sunday absence from home was soon forgotten. This was the pattern of my life for 22 years and there was in the end a greater harmony and acceptance of my limited Sabbath day values, but fully integrated in our lifestyle. Eventually, heartened by my husband’s changing attitude, my journey in the Church culminated in my baptism. Now I could have the companion of the Spirit to help guide me in the future.

13-year-old Mereoni attended with her sister, Karis, and her grandmother Tapu Pihigia.
“When I walked up to the front of the temple, I felt as if all my troubles and cares disappeared,” Mereoni said. “I felt peace.”
Her grandmother added, “My granddaughters have not stopped talking about the trip since they have returned home. We will never forget this trip to the temple.”

When I was in Israel, I visited the Western Wall. For the Jews, this is the most holy site in Israel. It is all that remains of their temple. Most wear their finest when they visit this sacred place; their choice of garment is a symbol of their devotion to their relationship with God. They visit the wall to read scripture, to worship, and to pour out their prayers. The plea for a temple in their midst consumes their every day, their every prayer, this longing for a house of covenant. I admire their devotion.

A missionary once asked me what I thought about to get the tears to flow. I told him that some days I cried for the widows. Some days I cried for the desire to do what was right. I cried because I know the truth and feel so selfish at times. I cried for spending more time in front of the mirror than studying the scriptures sometimes. I cried to say I was sorry. I cried out of sheer joy.

ADELAIDE—The Clements and McFarlane families live in the beautiful green hills above Adelaide. For them it’s a two-day drive to the temple with an overnight stop. If they lived closer, “I’d go all the time,” says Rachel Clements, 14. “You feel really spiritual when you come out of the temple.”
Daniel Clements, 16, agrees that the temple gives you a boost—especially your testimony. “It makes it stronger because of the feeling that you get when you go there.” Twelve-year-old Jacob admits to being a little nervous when he went to the temple for the first time. But the temple workers made him feel at home.

Like Joanne, my mother was married to a nonmember. Our bishop counseled her to put her love for my nonmember father above all else, and my brothers and I grew up watching her devote herself to that advice. The bishop further counseled her not to fret or feel guilty when she had to limit some of her Church activity when my father objected to the amount of time it took her away from home.
My parents were committed to our family. Our home was peaceful and nonjudgmental. My father, though he never joined the Church, respected it and had no bad feelings about it. He even proudly supported me financially on my mission to Venezuela and Colombia.
There were still difficult and painful times for us. I remember the day my parents sadly waited outside the temple while I was married there. Still, they respected my decision and stood joyfully by my husband and me later during the wedding reception with which they honored me. I have often felt sad that my father was not a member, and I have prayed all my life that he would someday join the Church. On the positive side, however, I am grateful that my mother never belittled him and showed me a wonderful example of tolerance and love.

Meeting the missionaries while breaking into a car might seem a little odd, but that’s exactly what happened to John Clout of the Enoggerra Ward, Brisbane Australia Stake. Actually, he was doing the missionaries a favor—they had locked their keys in the car—and to express their gratitude, they offered to share their message about Jesus Christ with him. After obtaining his parents’ permission, John, along with his sister Aimee, took the discussions.
“It was the night of the third discussion—the restoration of the gospel—that my mother became interested in what the missionaries had to say,” recalls John.
John, Aimee, and his mother were all baptized on Easter Sunday in 1989. John’s dad joined the Church four years later. John is now preparing to go on a mission, so that he might bring the gospel message to others, as two missionaries did to him.
“I have grown considerably since joining the Church,” says John. “The principles and teachings have taught me good standards and morals that have helped me in my youth and for my future.”

As a young college student, fifty years ago, my member friend was bold. She asked me directly the golden questions: “What do you know about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? Would you like to know more?” As I learned, understood, and gained a testimony of the gospel, I wanted to share it with my family—even though I knew that many of them might not be receptive. And indeed, they were not! But my desire remains strong to be bold. I am constantly thinking of ways I can boldly but gently invite them to come unto Christ.

The other day I went to the house of a friend who owns a swimming pool. He is a member of a different church, so I taught him about Joseph Smith. It surprised him to learn that Heavenly Father and Jesus appeared to Joseph Smith. I taught him about the Book of Mormon. He didn’t know about it, just the Bible. Since he didn’t have a Book of Mormon, he didn’t know about Nephi or anyone.
I taught him about the Word of Wisdom. I had asked him once before if he would smoke or drink when he got older. After teaching him the Word of Wisdom, I asked him again. And now he isn’t going to drink alcohol or smoke.
I wanted him to come to our Church, so I invited him. He was going to be gone this week, so I’m going to invite him again when he’s back.
He liked learning these things.

Beginning in 1930, President Clarence Tingey called local priesthood holders to branch presidencies wherever possible, releasing full-time missionaries from these responsibilities and allowing them to devote their time to proselyting. The administrative experience gained by local brethren would mean survival for many Australian branches ten years later when World War II would force all American missionaries home.
But World War II, beginning in September 1939, slowed Church growth in Australia. Many young men were called to war. Food, clothing, and gasoline were rationed, and travel was limited. Then, on 14 October 1940, Mission President James Judd received a cable from the First Presidency recalling all missionaries.

You’ve heard seat belt skeptics say, “Well, So-and-so was in an accident; and if he’d been wearing a seat belt, he’d have been killed.”
But Ted Mebius has another story. He’s the fleet administrator of more than 3,000 cars used in the missions throughout the Church. He says, “Our missionaries drive more than sixty million miles a year. Careful examination of our records does not reveal a single case of an accident where it would have been better if seat belts had not been worn. Not even one!”

Alisha P., 6, England, is one of only three members of the Church in her school. For homework, she had to make a model out of materials she could find at home. Alisha made a model of the Preston England Temple and told everyone how much she enjoys visiting it.

When President Gordon B. Hinckley spoke to the Saints of Ghana in 1998, Adjoa Darkoa Asare-Addo, 11, was present. She stood and sang “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” with undisguised joy. “The Holy Spirit was with me, and I knew that President Hinckley was a prophet of God,” she recalls.
When President Hinckley announced that a temple would be built in Accra, Adjoa was thrilled. “Temples are so important!” she explains. “That is where families are sealed forever.” She intends to be married in that temple someday.

My grandma died. I miss her so much—all I want to do is stay in my room and cry. What does Jesus Christ want me to do?
Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die. … And it shall come to pass that those that die in me shall not taste of death, for it shall be sweet unto them (D&C 42:45–46).
If thou art sorrowful, call on the Lord thy God with supplication, that your souls may be joyful (D&C 136:29).

Seema John, who served a mission in the Philippines, does not consider herself a returned missionary. “I feel that I am still always a missionary,” she says. Seema is from India’s capital of New Delhi in northern India, where the Church has two small branches in a virtual forest of nearly 10 million people. “Everywhere I go, my testimony goes with me.”
Seema has done vicarious work in the Manila Philippines Temple for her deceased mother, and she has worked tirelessly to activate family members. “I am very grateful for my gospel knowledge,” she says. “It is difficult to know the things I know and not have family and friends who share those beliefs.” Like many Indian returned missionaries, Seema loves missionary work and the joy that accompanies conversion and activation.

After many members of the early Church gathered to Nauvoo, they set about building a temple. In just six months, from October 1840 to April 1841, the foundation stones were set and the cornerstones were laid. The baptismal font was finished, dedicated, and put to use while the rest of the building continued to be worked on. In those days the font and the oxen were made from wood.
The temple was dedicated just as the Saints were being forced out of the city. The beautiful temple that they had worked so hard to erect was soon desecrated by mobs and set on fire by arsonists, almost totally destroying it. Eighteen months later, a tornado struck the structure and toppled the remaining walls.