Gospel Story Finder

I have always tried to honor and obey my parents. During my teenage years, when I went home at night I would report to them. Mother would always be awake. Coming home with a clear conscience and being able to tell her where I’d been meant a lot to me. Some of my friends didn’t have to check in with their parents, but I’m grateful that I was expected to be accountable to mine. They helped protect me against temptation.

Years later, I remembered this experience while thinking about our struggles with infertility. We had experienced three miscarriages and a failed adoption and undergone many different medical procedures. I felt similar emotions to those my husband had experienced on our run years before—I was tired and wanted to stop running.
In our infertility journey, my husband and I would see a figurative stop sign ahead and think we had finally reached the point where we could add a child to our family. But every time we came to a stop, we would be told we needed to run to the next sign, followed by another, and another.
We had tried to be prayerful and seek the Lord’s guidance in each step of the process, but we still found ourselves waiting on another adoption opportunity or pregnancy miracle. I felt discouraged, like we were being asked to run an endless marathon with few results.
I didn’t know how much farther I could make myself go.
One morning, I was studying a general conference talk by President Russell M. Nelson in which he invited us to make repentance a lifetime pursuit.1 As I read his words, I recognized that I had let my discouragement and disappointment cloud my faith in Heavenly Father, and that despite the roadblocks and setbacks, He was guiding me and my husband.
I prayed and asked Him to forgive me for losing some of my hope and faith in Him. I asked Him what my focus should be during my “run” with this infertility trial.
I was immediately reminded of the importance of having gratitude in all of life’s circumstances. I realized that I had been so caught up in the run with infertility that I didn’t see all I had to be grateful for—time with my husband; a healthy mind and body; and most importantly, a Savior who loves me, who wants the best for me, and who knows how both my husband and I feel about this struggle.
As I pondered my blessings, I realized that throughout this time of waiting and running, we had seen so many blessings and truly had an incredibly joyful life. Changing my perspective from “When will this run be over?” to “Look at all the good around me!” helped me to better recognize God’s hand and find the patience, faith, and hope to keep going.
I would love to say that we have reached the last stop sign and the end of our infertility journey, but we are still moving ahead and allowing the Lord to guide us.
I’ve recognized that I shouldn’t be waiting for the end to see the good in my life. I can see God’s goodness and trust in Him even without being able to see the why behind this trial or how it will end.
No matter how far this run with infertility or any other trial takes me, I’m determined to be a better follower of my Savior by being grateful in my circumstances, exercising faith, and trusting that good things are coming.

More than a hundred years ago in a small remote place in Arizona lived a family sent there by President Brigham Young to make peace with the Indians.

The father of the family was away on Church business when an impression came to him that something was wrong at home. He responded to this feeling by heading there at once. He arrived at about four o’clock in the morning. His wife had cuddled in her arms their little baby daughter who had fallen into an open fireplace. She was severely burned. The mother, in grief, said, “Let her die. She will be so disfigured.”

The father took this little infant in his arms and gave her a blessing. He promised her that she would live, that she would not be disfigured, and that she would sing before the prominent of the earth.

This baby girl did live, she matured in life, was not disfigured, raised a family, and sang in the Tabernacle Choir. The powers of heaven gave life to that tiny child. That sweet baby girl, in maturity, gave me life. She was my mother.

I owe my very existence to the power of prayer.

“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). This is the first scripture mastery verse I learned in my first year of seminary. After I memorized it, I tried to follow its teaching. I never knew who was watching me, but I wanted to set a good example for them. As I became good friends with my piano teacher, I learned that we can shine as bright as a candle and stand out in a group.
I’d begun practicing piano in kindergarten. After I finished sixth grade, my family moved to a different state, so I had to find a new music teacher. A friend at church suggested I take lessons from her instructor, Susan. At the time, Susan was teaching about 80 lessons a week and her schedule was very full. But she agreed to teach me and squeezed my piano lesson in right after school.
At each lesson, the first song I would practice would be a hymn. As I played, Susan sang the words and would often ask me questions about the scriptural meaning of the piece. This served as a great missionary opportunity. Susan and I had fun as we played duets and learned more about each other. I found out that she worked as the music director at her Catholic church. She always showed a great love for God, and I am glad we had such a strong relationship.
One day, Susan sent out invitations for a recital. At my lesson, she told me it would be our last performance. To her dismay, she had to close down her piano studio because our economic times hurt Susan financially and she knew she couldn’t pay the rent for her studio and keep her two other jobs going.
The night of the recital arrived and was filled with splendid talent and beautiful music. Before each student performed, Susan shared something unique about the person or information about the song he or she would play. As she stood before the audience to introduce me, she began to tear up. “I know that God sends certain people into our lives for a reason,” she began. She said she could see something bright and different about me. As she spoke about our friendship, I felt the Spirit strongly, and I could tell she felt it too. Then I played a duet with Susan for the finale of the recital.
The impact and importance of my lessons stretched far beyond improving my piano talent. There was a reason Susan chose to teach me even though she already had an overflowing list of students waiting for an open lesson. I know that because I tried to set a good example for Susan, she is now more familiar with the Church and its teachings. She has not given up her own religion to change faiths, but she knows about the restored gospel. I’m glad I could share my light with her.

I will always be grateful I had the opportunity of growing up with the welfare plan. My father was a bishop at the time of its beginning. He had a remarkable way of involving his family with him in his Church assignments. At an early, impressionable age I was taught the blessings of Church service.
I will always remember the dignity and patience he exhibited towards those in need. I particularly remember a little old man who had lost his wife and some of the soundness of his mind. My father not only filled the role of his bishop, but also that of his friend. To the family, however, this little old man was considered to be somewhat of a pest. When he would become lonely he would make his way to see my father. It didn’t matter whether it was ten o’clock at night or five-thirty in the morning, Father would always welcome him into our home, give him some nourishment, and then he would drive him back to his place of residence.
I remember at his passing seeing Father reading a letter addressed to “My friend, Bishop Perry,” as a final thank-you for taking an interest in his life when he was an old man. I saw the tears roll down my father’s cheeks as he read the letter. It was then I think I recognized for the first time an understanding of the rewards of gospel service.

There is an old fable about a king and a jester. One day the king decided to reward the jester, so he called him in, offered him a beautiful staff, and told him, “You may keep this beautiful staff until you find a bigger fool than you.”
Time passed and one day the king became very seriously ill, called the jester, and told him that he would probably go on a long journey and never return. The jester then asked him, “And have you made any provisions for a journey that lasts forever?”
The king answered, “No.”
The jester then handed the king the staff and told him, “King, if you have made no provisions for a journey that lasts forever, this staff belongs to you. You are a bigger fool than I.”

For Nepali families, drinking tea with milk first thing in the morning is an ingrained tradition. In every home and every tiny shop along every narrow street, small stoves brew tea. To begin to follow the Word of Wisdom has been difficult for many of these young converts.
When Deepak Shrestha’s older brother, who was the first missionary to serve from Nepal, told him the Church was the greatest thing in the world, Deepak was interested. Then his brother challenged him to live the Word of Wisdom. Deepak quickly felt the wisdom of this advice because “it affects the future.” The result of that decision has been the start of Deepak’s strong and continually growing testimony of the gospel.

Shiloh W., 18, Chihuahua, Mexico
My mother died when I was only 12 years old. At that time I was not a member of the Church. When she was sick, I prayed a lot that my mother would be well. I had much faith, and I trusted in God in the hope that her health would return. Sadly she did not recover. I questioned why she had to die at such a young age and leave me while I was still a teenager. I was angry and came to the point where I doubted that God existed. Now that I am a member of the Church, I understand the plan of salvation. I know that she is waiting for me and that our family will be reunited.

My name is Emily. Do you know what I like best about being me? I like having lots of feelings inside me, and I like showing my feelings in lots of different ways.
Today I gave a talk about Jesus Christ in Primary. I showed I was scared when my voice cracked.
I felt peaceful, though, when I looked up and saw my father and mother smiling at me. I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh out loud when my big brother winked at me.
I felt happy when I told everyone that Jesus is my friend. I said, “Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, and I love them.”
I showed reverence when I walked to my seat with my arms folded. I closed my eyes and bowed my head when the closing prayer was given. I listened to the prayer and said amen at the end so that Father in Heaven knew I was praying too.
During sacrament meeting I sat still in my seat and thought about Jesus while the bread and water were being passed. I felt warm and calm and happy and peaceful. I felt the Holy Spirit inside my heart. I like that feeling best of all.

One morning I was rushing through a busy airport on my way to attend a stake conference. Just after I went through the immigration formalities, an announcement was made that my flight was delayed. I stood there watching many people rushing up and down and just as I turned around to continue walking towards my boarding gate, someone tapped me gently on the shoulder and said, “Sir, let me polish your shoes for you”. Before I could protest, he pointed out that my shoes were dirty, and it looked like I was heading out for a very important meeting.
I looked down and realized that he was right, and since I now had some extra time, I walked with him to his chair and sat down. As he polished my shoes, he asked me where I was heading to; I explained to him that I had a church engagement. He commented, “we live in a very busy world… everyone is rushing up and down and people just don’t have time for others and for God.” He told me how he used to make time to pray and to read his Bible. I asked him why he had stopped, and his answer was, “I am busy, we are busy, the world is busy as you can see. Everyone has somewhere to run.”
As I walked away from him, I thought to myself, “are we too busy for each other, for our loved ones and for God?” I have ever since pondered this question. How well am I doing in inviting all to come unto Christ, make and keep sacred covenants and become His lifelong disciples? Our Area vision asks that we extend this invitation to Father in Heaven’s children, who may be at different stages along the covenant path.

Three days ago, Michelle’s grandma had died. Her parents explained to her that Grandma was in heaven now.
Michelle had never been to a funeral. She tried to sit quietly and listen to the speakers. Uncle Robert spoke first. He said that Grandma had finished her life mission. Michelle wondered what that meant.
After Grandma’s funeral, Grandpa invited everyone back to his home. Michelle liked going there. She especially liked the drawer in the hallway that held toys for the grandchildren. She had often played with the brightly colored blocks and puzzles. Her little brother, Joshua, who was 18 months old, preferred the trucks.
Sometimes Grandma had let Michelle play with the baskets she collected. Today Grandpa invited everyone to choose a basket as a memory of Grandma. Michelle picked a tiny one with a handle. She showed it to Mama, who held up a quilted basket of her own. She said it would remind her of how Grandma loved to quilt.
Tears gathered in Mama’s eyes, and Michelle wrapped her arms around Mama’s neck. “It’s all right. Grandma’s in heaven now,” she whispered.
Mama pulled her close and hugged her. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”
“I still feel sad,” Michelle said.
Mama stroked her hair. “We can’t help feeling sad, but we should be happy, too. After all, Grandma is with Heavenly Father and with family and friends who love her. We know that we’ll see her again someday. And because of Jesus Christ we’ll all be resurrected and live forever. I’m sure Grandma wants us to be happy about those things.”
Michelle felt better, but something about the funeral still puzzled her. “What did Uncle Robert mean when he said Grandma finished her life mission?” she asked. “Is that like when Cousin Steve finished his Church mission and came home?”
Mama took a long time answering. “In a way it is,” she said at last. “We are sent to earth to do certain things. Some of those things are different for each of us, but many are the same, like receiving a body. We should also learn about Jesus Christ, accept the gospel, be baptized, keep the commandments, repent of our sins, receive temple endowments, and start an eternal family.”
“Like when you and Dad got married?” Michelle liked to hear the story of how her parents had met in college.
Mama nodded. “Grandma and Grandpa were married in the temple, too.”
“What else did Grandma do on her mission?” Michelle asked.
“She served others. Remember how she was always knitting bandages and baby booties? Those were for Church Humanitarian Services to send to people all over the world. Grandma did a lot of things for others.”
“Like baby-sit me and Joshua sometimes.”
Mama wiped away a tear. “Your grandma has completed the mortal part of her life mission, but she’s not finished serving. She’s probably busy doing something to help someone else right now.”
Michelle smiled. “I’m going to help Joshua put the toys away and tell him that Grandma’s busy in heaven just like she was here.”

While serving as a mission president it was my great privilege and responsibility to interview every missionary as he began his mission. That was always a great experience, but it sometimes gave me insights into the backgrounds of my missionaries that shocked me. One elder told me of his growing up in a small farming community as the son of the town drunkard. When, as a newly called missionary, he boarded the bus to come to Salt Lake City to enter the mission home, his father was there to bid him farewell. He must have been drunk, for his last words to his son were, “Son, you will never amount to a hill of beans.”
As I talked with my missionary, I could sense that he had heard that phrase over and over again throughout his young life: “You will never amount to a hill of beans.” And that choice young man, called by the Lord to be his representative, believed it. I resolved to prove that father wrong by seeing that the missionary had a successful mission. I assigned him to a great first companion and watched his progress with keen interest and daily prayers. And progress he did.
As my release date approached, I made a final tour of the mission to say good-bye to my beloved fellow workers. By this time the young man was a zone leader, a very important calling in the mission field. He conducted that zone conference like a veteran bishop. I saw the deep bond of love that had developed between him and his missionaries. I thought of the scores of converts who had joined the Church through his devoted service and the power of his testimony. At an appropriate moment in the conference I stood beside him with my arm around him and said, with a lump in my throat, “You wouldn’t believe this, but someone once said of this young man that he would never amount to a hill of beans.” He turned and looked me in the eye and responded, “We sure showed him, didn’t we, President?”

My love of the scriptures and the Book of Mormon really started while I served a mission in Seoul Korea. Where it really became a part of me, however, was after my mission.

I am most grateful today for a wise mission president who committed me to do 14 things as I finished my mission. You will see the letter outlining these commitments and my signature on the screen. One of these, number nine, was to continue to love the scriptures and to read from them daily.

It was that commitment that kept me from missing too many days in a row. It was that commitment that helped me reintroduce structure in my life similar to the mission field so I could study every day. For most of my married life I was diligent from Monday to Friday. I always knew when I needed to wake up so I could exercise and study before I needed to be at school and then later at work. Saturday belonged to my children and I didn't usually read on that day due to the constant going and coming from sports, dance and lessons. The point is that even though I didn't keep my commitment to read daily, I did read regularly. I established a positive pattern and habit. When I missed a day or two, I got right back on track quickly.

When my oldest son was speaking in church before beginning his mission he made a statement that really helped me understand how grateful I was for my mission president, F. Ray Hawkins. He reported that each morning he would come upstairs to read the Book of Mormon with the family prior to going to school he always knew he would find his father at his desk reading the scriptures. I am indebted to a wise mission president for helping me have a generational impact on my son. If you have not begun a life-long commitment to study daily from the scriptures, I invite you to begin today. If you are doing this, I invite you to continue. I am sure that many of the returned missionaries made a commitment to a mission president similar to mine. I invite you to be truly committed to do just what you were challenged to do. I would plead with you to make the Book of Mormon a large part of that daily commitment. When you slip, start again. Don't let one missed day turn into two and then three and four. Turn it around. This will be a blessing to you, but it will also impact your children. One day your own son or daughter may stand to speak in church and say, "I remember always seeing my dad and my mom reading the Book of Mormon."

Illustration by Allen Garns
Eighteen weeks into my fourth pregnancy, I woke up to some minor bleeding. I felt anxious when the bleeding didn’t stop, so I decided to go to the emergency room.
During the long drive to the hospital, I hoped and prayed that everything would be OK. At the worst, I thought the doctor would prescribe several days of bed rest.
When I was admitted to the hospital, the staff performed several tests. They found that the baby didn’t have a heartbeat. The diagnosis was “fetal demise.” The doctor couldn’t do anything further at that point, so he released me from the hospital.
I went home feeling sad and frightened. I was unable to sleep that night. When I got out of bed the next morning, I was prompted to go to an early-morning endowment session at the temple.
Near the end of the session, my eyes focused on the wedding and engagement rings on my ring finger. They had belonged to the great-grandmother I was named after. She passed away when I was five, and I had recently been reading her life story. I remembered that she had experienced many miscarriages when she was in her 20s.
All morning I had been fighting tears of sadness and fear, but in that moment, I felt a wave of peace. I felt comforted. Great-grandma had passed through similar trials in her life, and the Savior had helped her. I felt the assurance that He would help me too.
“He will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities” (Alma 7:12).
I am deeply grateful for the peace that comes from attending the temple, for a legacy of faithful ancestors, and most of all, for the atoning sacrifice of the Savior Jesus Christ.

On June 12 of this year, I received an email telling me that the bishop from a Utah ward, his wife, and two of their children had been killed in an airplane accident. Bishop Mark Openshaw had been piloting the plane as it left a small airfield, when it suddenly fell from the sky and crashed to the earth. Bishop Openshaw, his wife, Amy, and their children Tanner and Ellie were killed in the accident. Miraculously their five-year-old son, Max, thrown out of the airplane in his airplane seat, escaped with only broken bones.

I learned that their son Elder Porter Openshaw was serving in the Marshall Islands Majuro Mission and that their 17-year-old son, Zane, was on a school cultural exchange in Germany.

I called Elder Openshaw on Christmas Island. Although heartbroken by the unexpected death of his mother, father, brother, and sister, Elder Openshaw immediately turned his concern to his two younger brothers.

Ultimately it was Elder Openshaw and his brother Zane who decided that others could help at home and that Porter should stay on his mission. They knew it was what their parents would want.

As I spoke with Elder Openshaw, I felt his sadness but also his unquenchable fire of faith. “I have the confidence,” he told me, “and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I will see my family again. … Strength in our trials is always found in … our Lord, Jesus Christ. … God’s omnipotent hand has been so apparent in helping [me] and my brothers throughout [this] very difficult challenge.”

I met Zane for the first time at the funeral. As I looked at the four caskets before us in the chapel, I marveled at the faith of this 17-year-old as he addressed the congregation. “Today,” he said, “we have gathered with humble hearts and weary souls to remember the lives of my mom, dad, Tanner, and Ellie. … We have talked together, cried together, remembered together, and felt the hand of God together. …

“The day after I heard the news of the accident, I found a letter in my bag from my mom. In the letter she wrote: ‘Zane, remember who you are and where you come from. We will be praying for you and missing you.’” Zane continued: “There could not be more fitting last words from my mother. I know that she, along with Tanner, Ellie, and my dad are … praying for [my brothers and] me. I know that … they pray that I remember who I am … because I, like you, am a child of God, and He has sent me here. I testify [that] … no matter how alone we feel, God will not forsake us.”

Benjamin helps around the house, but he likes to have a list so that he can tick off each job as it gets done. When Joseph was born, Benjamin was devoted to him and helped his mum care for the new baby. Now that Joseph is two, Benjamin delights in hearing him say short sentences and prayers and talk about things no one has ever heard about. “He’ll get me a biscuit if I ask him to or turn the switch on the telly.” Benjamin smiles mischievously. “Now, if I can just get him to wash the dishes …”

Betsy picked up her teddy bear and hugged him. “Yum, Yum,” she said, “time for bed.” She dressed Yum Yum in a polka-dot nightshirt and put him beside her pillow. “OK, Mommy,” Betsy called. “I’m ready.”
Mommy came in while Betsy said her prayers, then tucked her into bed. “Sweet dreams,” she said as she turned off the light.
“I want the light on, Mommy,” Betsy pleaded.
“But, darling, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be right there in the living room. Daddy too.”
“But Yum Yum likes the light.”
“All right, honey.” Mom smiled at her and turned the light back on.
Two minutes later all the lights in the house went off. Betsy screamed and clutched Yum Yum. Then she heard Daddy’s voice.
“It’s all right, Betsy,” he said. “Mommy and I are right here.” He scooped her out of bed and carried her to a chair by the window. “Look,” he said, “the lights are out all over town.”
“I’m scared,” Betsy said.
“You weren’t frightened a minute ago when the lights were on, were you?” Daddy asked.
“No, Daddy.”
“Then don’t be frightened now, Betsy. Look out the window and tell me what you see.”
“All I see is the moon and the stars.”
“That’s right,” Daddy said. “And they’re always there. I think that they are God’s way of saying that He’s always there. That’s why we don’t have to be afraid of the dark. Do you understand?”
“I think so, Daddy, but I’m not sure that Yum Yum does,” Betsy said.
Mommy said, “Do you remember the song we sang at Christmas—‘Silent night! Holy night!’? Well, a special star shone that night because it was a special night. I think that all nights are silent and holy, so when we see the stars and the moon, we don’t have to be afraid, because we know that Heavenly Father is watching over us. Now, are you ready to go back to bed?”
“Yes, Mommy. And Yum Yum is too. We aren’t afraid of the dark anymore.”

I fulfilled my first mission over in Holland before there were temples anywhere but here in the west, and when our people joined the Church the first thing they wanted to do was to come to America. They were willing to sacrifice everything—leave their homes and sell their furniture and give up their employment—just to come to Zion; and it was that temple that drew them here.

I had a very earnest investigator, a businessman, who said, “I’ll never join your church.”

I asked, “Why?”

He said, “I don’t want to go to America.”

“Good for you!” I said. “You just join the Church and stay right here and help to take care of these branches.”

He had only been a member a few months when he came into my office one day and said, “Brother Richards, I have a chance to sell my business.”

I asked, “What do you want to sell your business for?”

“Oh, I want to go to Zion,” he said—and he came to that temple that Isaiah saw over three thousand years ago that would be built in the tops of the mountains and unto which all nations would flow, saying, “Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,” that they might walk in his ways and learn of his paths.

When I was a boy, at Christmastime my mother put out a picture of the Savior knocking at a door. We weren’t members of the Church yet, and I always asked, “Why is Jesus knocking on the door? Who is on the other side?”
A few years later I discovered there was no handle on the outside of the door the Savior was knocking on. The person on the inside needed to open the door. Now I know who is on the other side of the door. We are! The Savior is knocking, and we all have to open the door and invite Him to come into our lives.

I remember an experience with a new missionary companion. During the first days I thought that I knew better than he did. When we intended to have a talk together, he asked me to say a prayer. I vividly remember at the very start of the prayer this feeling of peace and love nearly overwhelming me and I heard myself say how sorry I was for being so arrogant and unkind and I asked forgiveness from my companion. This changed our whole companionship. I do not exactly know which gift I received, but I cherished it as a tender mercy from God.