Gospel Story Finder

Finally, let me tell you about a woman I have never met but whom I love dearly because she was true to her covenants. My great-great-grandmother Charlotte Gailey Clark was one of the last 295 people to receive their covenants in the Nauvoo Temple prior to the beginning of the great exodus west. The temple had been closed since the Saints were being forced to leave, but all those who were worthy had not yet had an opportunity to receive their endowments. My great-great-grandmother and her husband would be leading their family west, and she wanted her covenants with her before she set out on that journey. I have thought about her so often these past few months. I someday want to say to her, “Grandma, thank you for keeping your covenants. I am so blessed to be your granddaughter. Your faithfulness has blessed me and my family—and will continue to bless all of us throughout the generations.” And sisters, our children and grandchildren will one day be able to say the same to us, and of us. One day they will thank us for keeping this “bag” of covenants with us and using them to bless the lives of our families.

We also remember Christopher Fogt, a member of the team that won the bronze medal in the four-man bobsled race. While he could have given up after a devastating crash in the 2010 Olympics, he chose to persevere. After a fantastic, redemptive run, he won the prize he so diligently sought.

I invited one school friend to come to my baptism, and she did! I’m glad I got to share that experience with her.

Myung Lee is Korean by birth. He’s stayed behind in New York to finish his schooling while his father—his hero—has returned to Korea with the rest of the family to serve as a mission president. Myung Lee says of his father, “He constantly has good thoughts on his mind, thoughts of Christ. My dad really seems to be focused. His faith in Jesus Christ is that He can guide him through anything and that my father will always follow. That’s how he leads his life every day, and that sort of tells me to lead my life that way.”

Equally unwelcome was the “shower” that fell on the little town of Coonamble, Australia. People dashed for cover and shops closed hurriedly as millions of beetles fell from the sky. Householders worked at top speed trying to make doors and windows beetle-proof, but it was practically impossible to keep the invaders at bay. It was two days before life in the town even began to return to normal and much longer before the beetles were completely cleared from pantries, cupboards, bedrooms, and attics.

During seven years here the Saints had to relocate twice before fleeing to Illinois. Here mobs tarred and feathered Bishop Edward Partridge, killed Apostle David Patten, massacred 19 at Haun’s Mill, jailed the Prophet Joseph and others, and stole or destroyed thousands of dollars worth of property and lands. But while the mobbers ranted, other citizens sympathized with the Saints. Like John Russell, a classics teacher and writer not far away in neighboring Illinois.
Mr. Russell took pen in hand, perhaps a decade after the Mormons fled Missouri, and wrote the first novel ever published about the Saints. The book, The Mormoness: or, The Trials of Mary Maverick, a Narrative of Real Events,2 tells the story of an Illinois man and wife who listen sympathetically to a Mormon elder. Later they hear about Missouri mobs and lynch laws abusing the Mormons. An elderly Mormon preacher is sent to the couple again and they convert. They join the Saints in Caldwell County where mobs, vowing extermination, kill the husband on his own doorstep. One mobber kills their son before the terrified eyes of the pleading mother. She becomes a fugitive and returns to her Illinois hometown. There she cares for the sick. One time she nurses a critically wounded stranger, whom she recognizes as the man who had murdered her child. She returns him to health, and he falls in love with her and proposes marriage. She refuses. He then realizes the enormity of what he had done to her and other Mormons at Haun’s Mill. Soon she dies, forgiving those who wronged her. But the murderer spends the rest of his life bewildered and finally goes mad. The novel’s main point, echoed in Mary’s dying words, is the Christian command to love your enemies, even if they are Mormons.

At night, I read the scriptures to my little sister. While I read the Doctrine and Covenants to her, she is able to go to sleep. I am thankful for my family. They help me, and I help them.
Yousuf R., age 4, Illinois

When you’re driving through a tunnel, it’s dark. You might feel like you’re going in the wrong direction and it can be scary, but when you see a peek of light at the end, you get a feeling of comfort and relief. This can relate to the gospel. If we get lost, scared, or headed in the wrong direction we can turn to our Savior, Jesus Christ, for forgiveness and comfort. He is there to forgive us for those sins we repent of and help us get back on the right path so we can live with Him again. If we can remember the commandments and the gospel in our daily lives, we can live with our Savior and have everlasting happiness and joy. Our Heavenly Father and Savior want nothing more than for us to make it to the celestial kingdom and live with Them again.

My dear brothers and sisters, as October general conference approached last year, I prepared my conference talk to highlight the 100th anniversary of the vision of the spirit world given to President Joseph F. Smith on October 3, 1918.
A few days after I had submitted my talk for translation, my beloved eternal companion, Barbara, completed her mortal probation and passed into the spirit world.
As the days have turned into weeks, then months, and now a year since Barbara’s passing, I find myself more fully appreciating this scripture: “Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die.” Barbara and I were blessed to “live together in love” for 67 years. But I have learned in a very real way what it means to “weep for the loss” of those we love. Oh, how I love and miss her!

“Serving in the Church helped me get my testimony,” he said. His father, who served several times as branch president and bishop, was particularly instrumental in Bishop Caussé having a positive experience.
“When I was a teenager, he would involve me in doing home teaching or visiting families in need,” Bishop Caussé said. “Watching him was probably the best learning experience in preparing for priesthood leadership.”

Nauvoo became almost a ghost city. It faded until it almost died. The site of the temple was plowed and planted. The years passed, and there slowly followed an awakening. Our people, descendants of those who once lived there, had stir within them the memories of their forebears, with a desire to honor those who had paid so terrible a price. Gradually the city came alive again, and there was a restoration of parts of Nauvoo.
Under the prompting of the Spirit, and motivated by the desires of my father, who had served as mission president in that area and who wished to rebuild the temple for the centennial of Nauvoo but was never able to do so, we announced in the April conference of 1999 that we would rebuild that historic edifice.
Excitement filled the air. Men and women came forth with a desire to be helpful. Large contributions of money and skills were offered. Again, no expense was spared. We were to rebuild the house of the Lord as a memorial to the Prophet Joseph and as an offering to our God. On the recent 27th of June, in the afternoon at about the same time Joseph and Hyrum were shot in Carthage 158 years earlier, we held the dedication of the magnificent new structure. It is a place of great beauty. It stands on exactly the same site where the original temple stood. Its outside dimensions are those of the original. It is a fitting and appropriate memorial to the great Prophet of this dispensation, Joseph the Seer.

The influence of your mother will bless you throughout life, especially when you serve as a missionary. Long years ago, Elder Frank Croft was serving in the state of Alabama. While preaching to the people, he was forcefully abducted by a vicious gang, to be whipped and lashed across his bare back. Elder Croft was ordered to remove his coat and shirt before he was tied to a tree. As he did so, a letter he had recently received from his mother fell to the ground. The vile leader of the gang picked up the letter. Elder Croft closed his eyes and uttered a silent prayer. The attacker read the letter from Elder Croft’s mother. From a copy of that letter, I quote:
“My beloved son, … remember the words of the Savior when He said, … ‘Blessed are ye when men shall revile you and persecute you and say all manner of evil against you falsely for my name’s sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad for you will have your reward in Heaven for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.’ Also remember the Savior upon the cross suffering from the sins of the world when He had uttered these immortal words, ‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ Surely, my boy, they who are mistreating you … know not what they do or they would not do it. Sometime, somewhere, they will understand and then they will regret their action and they will honor you for the glorious work you are doing. So be patient, my son, love those who mistreat you and say all manner of evil against you and the Lord will bless you and magnify you. … Remember also, my son, that day and night, your mother is praying for you.”
Elder Croft watched the hateful man as he studied the letter. He would read a line or two, then sit and ponder. He arose to approach his captive. The man said: “Feller, you must have a wonderful mother. You see, I once had one, too.” Then, addressing the mob, he said: “Men, after reading this Mormon’s mother’s letter, I just can’t go ahead with the job. Maybe we had better let him go.” Elder Croft was released without harm.

Several students spoke of a new spirituality. A law student wrote: “One significant thing distinguishing the past year for me is the matter of scripture as a means of maintaining spiritual sensitivity. The results have been so undeniably stimulating to the spirit that I am now confident that daily scripture study shall be a life-long pursuit.”

In Jamaica, schools have Boy Day and Girl Day every year. On Girl Day, boys don’t go to school. Instead, mothers may go to school with their daughters. They have a talent show, a spelling contest, and other fun activities.
Giordayne was chosen from her class to compete in the spelling contest, and she won. “My favorite word to spell is environment,” Giordayne says.

Before Elder Hales’s passing that October day in 2017, he prepared a short talk for general conference that he was unable to give. In that talk, he wrote, “Our faith prepares us to be in the presence of the Lord.”5

I was at my friend’s house, and we were riding our bikes. My friend’s neighbors were riding their bikes too. We all decided to play cops and robbers. We played and played for about an hour. It was fun! Finally we were tired, so we put down our bikes and sat in the grass. I was so excited. I had made some new friends!
Then a kid picked up his cell phone. He scrolled through it. Then he said, “Hey, guys, look at this!” He showed us a funny video. It was really funny! And then he showed us another video. All of a sudden, I felt a bad feeling. They watched the video over and over. I felt worse every time. Again and again. Worse and worse. I was scared. If I left, my friend might not be my friend anymore. But if I kept watching, I wouldn’t be having faith.
Finally, I whispered to my friend, “I need to go home.”
He said, “Why?”
“I don’t like these videos.”
“OK, bye,” he said.
As I rode my bike back home, I felt the bad feeling slip away. An amazing feeling replaced it. I got the gift of the Holy Ghost a few years ago, and I felt it that day.
I had followed the Holy Ghost.

Ten-year-old Ellen Pucell refused to move another step. For endless days and miles she’d been dragging herself over snowy, frigid ground. Now, with the merciless cold biting through her ragged clothes, the pain in her feet had grown unbearable, and Ellen, or Nellie as everyone called her, sat down shivering and couldn’t go on. Her older sister, Maggie, coaxed her to get up. But while her weary friends trudged on ahead, struggling to pull handcarts through the snow, Nellie still sat, unable to move her stiffened legs.
Maggie again pleaded with her younger sister to walk with her before the company left them behind. As their hope of catching up faded, a horse-drawn carriage approached them. The driver, one of the leaders lucky enough to have a wagon, stopped to ask about the young girls. When Maggie explained the situation, Nellie was lifted into the back of the wagon, where her feet dangled over the edge as they hurried to catch up with the others.
Nellie’s family had sailed from Liverpool, England, in May of 1856 with a large group of Latter-day Saints. After a safe voyage on the ship Horizon, they docked in Boston, then traveled by train to Iowa. From there Nellie had set out with her parents, her sister, Maggie, and over five hundred other pioneers. They were bound for peace and new homes in the Salt Lake Valley. Too poor to afford wagons or the animals to pull them, the great majority chose to build smaller, two-wheeled wagons called handcarts, which they would pull themselves. Only the most vital provisions could be carried. Extra bedding, clothing, household supplies, and even extra food had to remain behind.
For the first few weeks the company enjoyed good weather, but in October disaster fell from the gray skies. Early snowstorms and bitter cold pursued the pioneers.
Nellie’s family suffered along with the rest. Her mother became ill and had to be pulled for some distance in their cart. Nellie’s father slipped into the waters of one of the rivers they crossed, and because there was no dry clothing or warm shelter, he was chilled to the bone. The family’s food supply grew scarce, and the snow hid any fuel that they might have gathered for a fire.
Nellie’s father died on October 22, 1956, from hunger and exposure to the cold. Five days later her mother died too. Graves could only be dug in the snow because the early winter had frozen the ground. Nellie and Maggie trudged on alone. They watched as more of the company died and the weather’s cold fierceness strengthened.
One day as Nellie and her sister made their way at the head of the group, two men dressed in buckskin appeared and motioned for them to come closer. At first the girls refused but soon decided that the men meant no harm. The men gave Nellie some money and instructed her to buy moccasins at the trappers’ trading post they were nearing. Nellie gratefully accepted the money and the chance to cover her bare feet, which had long since grown numb with cold.
In Salt Lake, Brigham Young had called for volunteers to meet the handcart company on the plains. When the volunteers finally reached it, near Laramie, Wyoming, they found the pitiful group nearly buried by the snow. Nellie’s feet were badly frozen. The rescue party gathered her and the remaining members of the company into their wagons and returned to Salt Lake, arriving on November 30.
Nearly everyone in the handcart company had endured painfully frozen feet, hands, and ears and had witnessed the deaths of family members and friends. The doctor had to amputate Nellie’s feet. There was no skin to cushion the bone, so she was left with throbbing sores that never healed.
Nellie and her sister eventually moved south from the Salt Lake Valley to Cedar City. Here Nellie married William Unthank and reared their six children. With a leather apron under her damaged legs, Nellie crawled about their small home on her knees, keeping it spotless.
Nellie willingly worked at whatever she could to help provide for her family. Along with other jobs, she took in laundry and crocheted articles to sell to add to the family income. If anyone offered food or assistance, she insisted on repaying the favor. As a way of showing gratitude, she gathered her children once a year to clean the meetinghouse. While the boys carried water, the girls washed windows, and Nellie scrubbed the floors.
William carved wooden “cup feet” for Nellie, but they only irritated her never-healing stumps. Later, through donations, wooden legs were given to Nellie, but these she only wore on special occasions, because they added to her constant pain.
Despite poverty and pain, Nellie rarely complained. She had come to know her Heavenly Father in her sufferings. From the moccasins provided for her bare feet, the carriage sent when she couldn’t go on, help given to her through a lifetime of affliction, Nellie Pucell Unthank knew that she could count on the Lord.

Lucy Smith’s written self-portrait is one of unconquerable faith, and her spiritual strength was certainly rooted in the practical determination of her father and the profound convictions of her mother. Significantly, the mother of the Prophet begins her story with the exploits of her father, Solomon Mack, whose adventures in colonial wars make exciting reading. At an early age he was a man of decision, boldness, and awareness of his fellowmen. His exploits included saving himself and a companion by charging a party of Indians with no weapon but nerve—and saving a companion during an ambush when in full retreat and risking his own life. His lifetime of business ventures after that was just as heroic, for his enterprise built back financial stability after continued reverses. He was in turn a land developer, farmer, shipper, contractor, miller, privateer, and schooner owner, finally retiring to his Vermont farm to find God in answers to his prayers for relief from physical and spiritual agony. Something of the home that trained Lucy comes out in his injunction to parents to bring their children up with consistency: “Never bid them to do anything that is out of their power, nor promise them only what you mean to fulfil. Set good examples in word, deed, and action.”5

Will Hopoate was born and raised in a Latter-day Saint family of eleven children whose father, John, also played rugby. He began playing professional rugby league in 2010 in Australia. He turned down a million-dollar plus contract to serve a two-year mission for the Church in Brisbane, Australia.
He credits his mission experience with helping him develop the spiritual anchor he has today.
“There are so many things that I use in my everyday life that I learned from my mission in terms of time management, priorities and habits. I see a mission as more of a privilege than a sacrifice because what I gained spiritually outweighs the sacrifice.
After his mission, Will later played for the Canterbury Bulldogs in Australia. As he was completing his contract, Will was invited by coach Kristian Wolff to play and compete for St. Helens R.F.C. beginning in 2022 for two years, with an option for a third year.

This would be a fine place to end Kim and Neil’s story, but there’s more. The Kereszti’s son, Zsolt, was the only LDS single adult in Hungary, so Dr. Davis invited him to come to Salt Lake City and live with his family for a while. Since Zsolt had medical training, he could help Dr. Davis with his laser research.
So now the Davis’s missionary efforts resulted in a new big brother for the family. What’s it like to suddenly have a friend from Hungary move in?
“I remember the first day he came,” says Kim. “We couldn’t even pronounce his name. But since then, we’ve become really close. I go to early-morning seminary, and he takes me. He’s come to our school and spoken, he’s cooked us Hungarian dinners, he’s taught us a little of the Hungarian language, and we’ve done a lot of other special things together.”
“I was kind of shy at first,” says Neil, who was the oldest son in the house when Zsolt arrived. “We’d go out and play racquetball and Ping-Pong, and we all got used to each other. For coming from a family where he was the only child, he’s very patient with us.”
As for Zsolt, he was delighted to be accepted straight into the heart of a strong LDS family. He’s fascinated by their unity, by family prayer, scripture study, and home evening, and he’s amazed at their support of each other. The Davises are a musical family and play their various instruments together often. They’re also an athletic family and always attend each other’s games and meets.
“I’ve learned that I tremendously enjoy a big family,” Zsolt says. “It’s very educational for me to watch and learn how they handle everything. They set goals and motivate each other. I would like to have a family like this someday.”