Gospel Story Finder

During the banquet and program, I sat next to a well-known personality, Flip Harmon, and his wife, Lois. Flip has been involved with the direction of the Days of ’47 celebration for forty-three years, this being an annual July 24th activity in Salt Lake City. Since Flip was up and around the room fulfilling his official duties, I had the privilege of talking with Lois. She mentioned that she and family members were in attendance at every presentation of the famous rodeo which is one of the highlights of the Days of ’47 celebration. Now, a rodeo is nice once in a while—but every night? I asked Lois how she endured the schedule. Her response was from the heart. “This is Flip’s life, and I want to be part of it. He counts on me.” The night I had attended the rodeo with Sister Monson, my Aunt Blanche (age ninety-five), and our grandchildren, Lois was surrounded by children and precious grandchildren. She was the epitome of happiness. Now, during our luncheon conversation, Lois volunteered to me a few details about her husband. She said Flip had an angel mother who prayed fervently for her sons as they served their country during wartime. When Flip returned home, he and Lois were married. A busy life and welcome children followed. Each year as their wedding anniversary approached, Flip would say to Lois, “What gift do you want for our anniversary?” Each year the answer was the same, “A temple sealing.” The gift was not given.

Then one year, as the perennial question was asked, “What do you want, Lois, for our anniversary?” and the usual response was given, “To go to the temple of God together,” Flip’s reply was unexpected: “Fine. I’ll prepare for such an event.” They were sealed for time and eternity in the holy house of God on their twenty-ninth anniversary. Later, Flip served as a bishop. Each remains faithful to the other and loyal to the Lord.

As Lois continued, I noticed tears brimming in her eyes. She said, “You know Flip always wears cowboy boots. At the end of each day he would sit in the chair before the fireplace, where he would take off his boots and then read the paper. He would never put away the boots, no matter how many times I mentioned the subject. Years ago that would bother me. But not anymore. Today I just love those boots. Tender are my feelings and full is my heart as I willingly and lovingly pick them up and put them away each evening.”

Now tears were brimming in my eyes. Unexpectedly, Lois Harmon was asked to come to the podium, where she was given signal honor for her silent service. A beautiful bouquet of red roses was presented to her. Flip was asked to respond. His expression was from his heart. It was as though the two of them were alone in the large hotel dining area. “Lois is the light of my life. She’s my eternal partner.” (The word partner seemed to fit with the cowboy boots.) “We’ll be together forever.” Patience was rewarded. Love was expressed. Heaven was near.

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.

In a recent newspaper article President Hinckley was praised as “clearly a man for the season. … He’s a hand shaker, a praiser, a man who knows what to say and how to say it, often with a sense of humor.” Brothers and sisters, those are just the things the general public sees. We as members of the Church see so much more. Through the whisperings of the Holy Spirit, we know that the true head of this Church, the Lord Jesus Christ, does communicate with us through President Hinckley. It was my blessing and privilege to feel that Spirit when I was called into President Hinckley’s office to receive my call to the general Relief Society presidency one and a half years ago. Before I knew the purpose of my being there, I shook his hand and received a powerful personal witness that I was in the presence of a prophet of God. That witness made me feel exceedingly humble and reverent. If I was kind of quiet that day, President Hinckley, that is the reason.

Starting off the day with a prayer improves my motivation and reminds me that through Jesus Christ I can do all things, even when I feel overwhelmed. Putting visual aids around the house also really helps me remember the spiritual things I need to do each day but often forget about. I like to write my daily goals where I will see them, like on my mirror or phone. Often I will set alarms on my phone or enter calendar reminders to say my prayers or complete certain tasks for the day, and I won’t go to bed until I’ve done them. When I’m feeling too tired or want to relax, I tell myself I can take a break and do something else after I’ve completed my tasks. By not procrastinating, I feel less stressed and am able to enjoy my day more.
Abbee C., Georgia, USA

Our membership in the Church creates a network of love and support, a gospel family that we are all part of. My neighbor Jamie is a great example of ministering to my children. For example, when my daughter was waiting to enter the missionary training center and I was working during the day, Jamie took her to the temple a few times when I could not.

I didn’t always pay attention. After hearing the sacrament prayers every week since childhood, I had started to tune them out. If there was something I found more interesting to think about, I’d let my mind wander.
But then one Sunday as I bowed my head to take the sacrament, I noticed my hands. They had many scrapes from various sources. One was caused by a bicycle crash on a night my parents had told me not to go out, and another scratch was from falling down stairs because I was careless. My hands had several marks caused by things I had done.
Some marks had been there longer than others, but I knew that most of them would heal with time.
As I gently touched the scrapes on my hands, I thought of the wounds on someone else’s hands and how those scars are so vital for us. Jesus Christ went through intense suffering for our spiritual well-being.
I realized that just as my body had physical scars it was trying to heal, my spirit was also pocked and scarred by careless things I had done. Heavenly Father knew we would hurt ourselves spiritually on earth, so he sent his Son to help us heal our wounds.
As I started to listen more intently to the sacrament prayers, I realized that by taking the sacrament and renewing my covenants, the Savior could wipe away the inward bruises on my soul. Through the years, I had been unpleasant to my family, ungrateful to my Young Women leaders, and imperfect in other ways. My soul was blemished from its original perfection. I knew the formula for healing physical wounds, but the way to heal spiritual scars hadn’t seemed so obvious until I listened closely to the prayers: “… keep his commandments which he has given them; that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” (D&C 20:77).
I can be healed through the atonement of Jesus Christ.
I’m thankful for what my slightly scarred hands remind me of when I reach out to partake of the sacrament. Each Sunday I commit to try to keep myself from getting more inward scrapes during the next week, and I remember that the wounds I have on my soul can be healed as I keep the commandments and listen to the Holy Ghost.

Bella F.: For a religious studies class we went on a trip to a Church meetinghouse, and all the missionaries were there. It was fun. I also thought it was a really good way to choose who my good friends were going to be because you could tell who really respected other people’s religions. They’d say things like, “Oh, so you don’t swear?” And they’d say, “OK, great, I won’t swear around you” and stuff like that. We talked about how we don’t drink coffee and stuff, and they said, “OK, we don’t have to go to coffee shops.” They were just all really respectful.

Ryan started learning about music when he was two years old. His parents put a set of stereo headphones on him and, instead of pulling them off, he was fascinated. He started piano lessons at seven years old, but like most people, he didn’t like to practice. As he learned to play, he and his mother discovered his talent. “I never did like the endings of pieces of music in books. I would just start making up new endings.” Several years later they discovered that Ryan had perfect pitch. Then he started writing music and performing on a variety of keyboard instruments. He has won numerous awards for his musical talent—composing, performing, and singing. He was voted the most talented student in his ninth-grade class.

Jacob slipped in the cold slush on the entry floor. “Hold still, Annie!” he shouted.
He squatted next to the big dog and reached for her front paw. He held a towel in his other hand. Annie whined and jerked her paw away when Jacob touched it. She shook herself and nearly knocked Jacob over. He grabbed at her collar and shouted, “Annie! Hold still!”
Jacob let Annie go and wiped up the puddles with the towel. It was his responsibility to clean Annie’s paws when she came in the house, but it was frustrating. Annie didn’t like having her paws cleaned. Jacob sighed. He loved Annie, but she was a lot of work.
So was school. Mrs. Randall assigned a lot of homework, and Jacob didn’t think she was fair. Yesterday, Jacob went to school with his homework unfinished.
“But I already know how to do it, Mrs. Randall,” Jacob said. “I don’t see why I should have to do 20 problems to prove it!”
Mrs. Randall frowned. “I require 20 problems, Jacob. No arguments.” She marked his check-off sheet “Incomplete.”
It seemed that every week Jacob had a problem with Mrs. Randall. Jacob couldn’t wait until Christmas break.
Things were getting worse with Annie too. Whenever Jacob tried to wipe Annie’s feet, she nipped at his fingers.
“No!” Jacob would shout.
By Christmas Eve, Jacob’s fingers were seriously sore. There were little nip marks all over them. Annie didn’t bite hard, but her teeth were sharp.
“Ouch!” Jacob shouted as Annie bit him once again. “Stop it, Annie!”
“Why are you shouting at your dog, Jacob?” Grandma asked. She had been watching from the sofa as Jacob wiped Annie’s paws.
“She chews my fingers,” Jacob explained.
“Well, shouting won’t help,” Grandma said. “People and dogs are alike that way.”
For some reason, a picture of Mrs. Randall came into Jacob’s head. Could he be speaking to her the wrong way too?
“The scriptures say, ‘A soft answer turneth away wrath,’” Grandma said. Then she got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen.
Jacob was thoughtful as he went to the kitchen for dinner. “Grandma, what’s wrath?” he asked.
“Wrath is anger or wanting to punish,” she said.
Jacob thought about that. Maybe he hadn’t tried everything with Annie.
Before bed, Jacob had to mop Annie’s feet for the last time of the night. Instead of shouting and scolding, he tried to speak quietly. He talked to her about Christmas. He called Annie a good dog and told her he loved her. He politely asked her to stop biting his fingers. Annie had been whining and nipping at his hands, but as he got to her last paw, she stopped. Jacob kept talking, kindly and softly. Annie twitched a little as he finished toweling between her toes, but she didn’t bite.
Jacob could hardly wait to tell Grandma. He knew the “soft answer” was the right answer. He knew it would help Annie to stop nipping at his fingers. Jacob felt good inside. The Holy Ghost was testifying to him that he had learned a true principle.
As Jacob got ready for bed, he thought about Mrs. Randall. He knew he needed to work hard on his assignments and be responsible for his schoolwork. He also knew that he needed to speak more respectfully. Could a soft answer turn away some of Mrs. Randall’s frustration with him?
“There’s only one way to find out,” Jacob thought.
He was excited to try.

I walk beneath the empty trees, now dark,
crackling the skeletons of leaves left behind.
Another winter comes, and who will find
me here, who joins me walking through the park?
My dear brother, a second winter was not
for you; the cold comes now like a thief at night,
like that shadowy intruder who took before my sight
your eyes, and all your life for which we fought.
Three of us remain, a photo of the four
stands proud on mother’s hearth.
We meet and talk
in quiet tones of you, of Life, and the Rock,
Who chose to take you, and be with us no more.
You may know Him—may see Him better in your scope.
Stay with him, brother: it is He
who gives us hope.

I just want to tell you how much I have enjoyed the New Era this year. In past years, the New Era seemed to disappear before I got to read it, but not this year. This year I made a special effort to read each issue cover to cover, and then I kept them together for future enjoyment and reference. It has worked great, not only for me but for my family as well. Now we all know where to find the New Era.
Lori BrownMartinez, California

One day while attending a stake fireside, I had the impression that I needed to serve in the temple. I was surprised because the idea had never crossed my mind before, but I talked with my bishop about it, and he was supportive and glad that I wanted to serve.
A few months later, I became an ordinance worker at the Manti Utah Temple. Though I was excited for the opportunity, I was a little concerned that it would be a burden on my time. It was the beginning of my sophomore year of college, and I always tried to keep myself busy with school. I consistently took 18 credits every semester and had taken on leadership roles with the student newspaper and the college literary journal.
As it turns out, I was wrong. Serving wasn’t a burden at all, but a blessing I’ll cherish throughout my life.

During my training to become an airline captain, I had to learn how to navigate an airplane over long distances. Flights over huge oceans, crossing extensive deserts, and connecting continents need careful planning to ensure a safe arrival at the planned destination. Some of these nonstop flights can last up to 14 hours and cover almost 9,000 miles.
There is an important decision point during such long flights commonly known as the point of safe return. Up to this point the aircraft has enough fuel to turn around and return safely to the airport of departure. Having passed the point of safe return, the captain has lost this option and has to continue on. That is why this point is often referred to as the point of no return.
My dear brothers and sisters, my dear young friends, when the captain of a long-range jet passes the point of safe return, and the headwinds are too strong or the cruising altitudes too low, he might be forced to divert to an airport other than his planned destination. This is not so in our journey through life back to our heavenly home. Wherever you find yourselves on this journey through life, whatever trials you may face, there is always a point of safe return; there is always hope. You are the captain of your life, and God has prepared a plan to bring you safely back to Him, to your divine destination.

Let me give an example. Some years ago, a young couple we will call the Joneses visited with their bishop about a problem the wife had. The details are not important, but through the direction of the Spirit, the bishop’s decision was that, among other things, Sister Jones would not partake of the sacrament for a period of time while she worked out some attitudes and problems.

With lots of love and support, she continued to attend meetings with her family, and few but her husband and the bishop were aware of the situation or even noticed that week after week she did not partake of the sacrament. At first she didn’t feel much difference; but as time went on, she became more and more desirous to be worthy to partake of the sacrament. She thought she had repented before, but as the real soul-searching deepened and as her desire to worthily partake of the sacrament increased, true fundamental changes began to take place in her life and in her actions and in her thinking.

More time passed. Finally, during one sacrament meeting, the Spirit bore witness to the bishop and to Brother and Sister Jones that the time had come for her to again partake of the sacrament. “Next Sunday,” the bishop said.

Next Sunday came, and Sister Jones sat again with her family, nervous, yet excited and full of anticipation. “Am I really worthy? How I want to be!” she thought. The sacrament hymn was more meaningful than ever. She sang with such feeling that it was difficult to hold back the tears. And the sacrament prayers—how profound! She listened so intently that every word sank deep into her soul—to take his name, always remember him, keep his commandments, always have his Spirit. (See D&C 20:77, 79.) “Oh, how I desire this,” she thought.

The deacons began to move up and down the aisles, and the trays were passed from person to person across the rows. As one young deacon got closer and closer to her row, her heart began to pound harder and harder. Then the tray was coming down her very row. Now her husband was holding the tray in front of her! Tears streamed down her face. There was a barely audible sob of joy, “Oh!” as she reached for the emblem of the Lord’s love for her. The congregation did not hear the sob, but they did notice the tears in the bishop’s eyes.

Life and hope and forgiveness and spiritual strength had been given and received. No one could be more worthy. Sister Jones truly wanted to have his Spirit. She wanted to take his name upon her. With all her heart, she wanted to remember him and keep his commandments. She wanted to repent, to improve, and to follow the guidance of his Spirit.

In April 2018, Brother Aakash was confirmed as a member of this church. His mother, Sister Mousumi has been a member for a long time. Elders from the New Delhi Mission gave him lessons through Skype and they came to Kolkata for his baptism. It was an eventful day in their lives, and they have seen the promised blessings pour out in their lives as a result of the decision.

This is the story behind the painting:
“In Missouri in 1862, the 14-year-old Mary Wanlass promised her dying stepmother that she would see to it that her disabled father [and her four much younger siblings would all make] it to the Valley of the Great Salt Lake. … Mary drove the oxen and milk cows that pulled the wagon, in which her father [was bedridden, and] she cared for her … siblings. After each day’s journey, she fed the family by foraging edible plants, flowers, and berries. Her only compass was the instruction she had received to keep traveling west ‘until the clouds become mountains.’
“They reached [the] Utah Valley in September, having traveled all spring and summer. Her father died not long after the family settled in Utah County, where Mary later married and raised her [own] family.”

We express our affection and sympathy to all those who have suffered in great calamities in the past months. The flood caused by the breaking of the Teton Dam brought misery and loss and suffering to numerous of our good people. With its high wall of water, the flood took nearly everything before it. We are grateful that Ricks College facilities were just above the flood line and served to make a home away from home for many who had lost their homes and to furnish hundreds of thousands of meals during their dilemma. We are very proud indeed of the organization, the faithful work, the hospitality, and the self-sacrifice of numerous helpers in this great tragedy.

Sister Ivy Morris, Corporal Morris’ wife, submitted a series of her husband’s letters to The Millennial Star for publication. He relates how happy the Norwegians are “to be free from Nazi control. Branch President Strang has told me of the imprisonments, ’grilling’ and punishments that he and his sons have had to endure and I know that the others have also had to suffer much. Yet all seemed to want to say: God had cared for us here in Norway.”
The Church members did not wallow in their recent sorrows. In fact, Alex Morris declares, “I have just had one of the outstanding experiences of my army career here in Oslo, Norway … To just sit in an LDS meeting and not understand a word of what is being spoken and yet be thrilled by the power of the spirit in the building.” He speaks highly of the members in the Oslo Branch who treated him well and who wanted to hear all about the British Mission. He asks his wife if she could send him something that he could give to the children of the kind members who gave him respite in their home. He suggests, “Do you think you could send a little cake or something, soap would be very useful, in fact any small thing like that, a tin of Ovaltine or anything for a treat for them. You should have seen their eyes when they tasted chocolate for the first time. My it’s good to meet so many Saints, they are just the same, stand around the aisle talking before and after the meeting shaking hands all round.”

Which prophet left on a mission to the southern states after only a week of marriage? His bride joined him a few months later, and they served in the mission field together. In his younger days he enjoyed singing humorous songs. He was an outstanding Scouter.

But it was Debbie Hanson, 16, of the Crystal Second Ward, who harvested one of the sweetest fruits of sharing:

“My parents knew some people from the Orient, and we kept spending time with their family,” Debbie says. “They had a girl my age named Ting Ming. We talked a lot about the Church, basically a testimony sharing thing. When the missionaries asked me if I would befriend her, I had to smile. We had already become good friends. Six months later, when Ting was baptized, she told me, ‘Thank you for giving me this beautiful truth.’”