Gospel Story Finder

When I received my August 2002 issue, the first article I read was “Carving A Character.” About half-way through diabetes jumped off the page at me. Before I continued, I called my sister to come listen to the rest of Matt Rogers’s story. My sister was diagnosed with type-1 diabetes when she was four years old. Even though she has had the disease for four years, lately she has become very depressed about her illness. She feels like no one else understands what she is going through, and she tries to ignore her illness, hoping it will disappear. I loved reading her the scripture Matt mentioned (Ether 12:27); his diabetes had been something to help shape his life. It gave my sister a different perspective. Now she tells me she wants to be a sculptor!
Kassandra GreerWalkersville, Maryland (via e-mail)

Life was already challenging for many Venezuelans before the COVID-19 pandemic hit in 2020, but then even just basic survival became tough. For 11-year-old Sebastian and his family, strength from Jesus Christ was needed to stay upbeat and happy during sad times. “I feel bad when we can’t buy essential products like food, clothing, and medicine,” Sebastian says. “But I have faith the Lord will continue to bless us. I feel blessed that I was able to receive my patriarchal blessing. It tells me of things I was promised before I came to earth.”

Focusing on Jesus Christ as part of last year’s youth theme (“I can do all things through Christ” [Philippians 4:13]) proved to be a big help. “Because of the difficulties facing my country, the youth theme from last year reminded me that Christ will help me overcome and do all things through Him,” Sebastian says.

It’s been a long journey, but Sebastian and his family have seen blessings and hope along the way. “The Lord lightens my burdens,” he says. “When I get sad, I pray, study the scriptures, and read my patriarchal blessing. Thanks to Him, our family stationery business that we started three years ago has had more success this year. I would like to tell other young people that they should always be ready to rely upon Jesus Christ. When I do that, I am able to overcome my challenges.”

Neal was in a mortar squad assigned to fire explosive shells at enemy positions hidden inland. He took a position in a foxhole, and after days of back-and-forth warfare, heavy rains turned the scorched landscape into a quagmire. Neal’s foxhole filled with mud, making rest nearly impossible as he tried to sleep standing up. Meager military rations did little to stave off hunger, and the water he received came up the hill in five-gallon tanks and always tasted of oil. Many men drank coffee to mask the water’s foulness, but Neal wanted to be obedient to the Word of Wisdom and refused. He did his best to gather rainwater, and on Sundays, he used water he saved and a biscuit from his rations for the sacrament.2

My mom can tell when I am in a bad mood, and she’ll text me to tell me that she loves me. One time my mom was dropping me off for early-morning seminary, and I was not talking much. That morning she sent a text saying, “I love you and am proud of you. I hope you have a really good day because you deserve it.” She’s taught me how to serve others and be more selfless. From her I have learned that no matter the situation you are in, you can always help others.

My mother died when I was just a year and a half old. I was too young to remember much about her, and my father didn’t talk about her. I know from pictures of her, and from talking with my uncles, that she was a beautiful woman both physically and spiritually. I missed her every day of my young life.
After Mother died, I lived with my grandmother while my father taught school and moved from town to town. Then when I was eight years old, my father, who had remarried, wanted me returned to him. I found myself with a father I didn’t know, and a stepmother and two baby sisters that I didn’t know. Later two younger brothers were added to the family.
I had a difficult time adjusting to a new family. Part of it may have been my fault, but I never did feel accepted. What’s worse, my father was a very strict individual, given to almost insane rages. This did not contribute to family harmony or communication. I can’t say that our life was a very happy one.
It’s been many years since those childhood days. I’ve grown up and have spent my professional life as a pilot, in part providing emergency flights for infants that are seriously ill or injured. It’s a career that demands a practical approach to life. I don’t think anybody could call me over-imaginative or given to hallucinations. I’ve always figured a fact is a fact is a fact.
And the fact is, when I was 13, we were living in a small town, and my bedroom was a little lean-to that was built on the back of the house. I had been physically injured, hurt, and was very, very depressed. That night I lay in bed and cried and prayed. I wanted my mother.
In the quiet darkness, she visited me. I felt her influence. I saw her and she said, “Do not despair. You are deeply loved.” Then she was gone.
I will never forget those words. There was a calm. I felt better and went to sleep.
The next morning I didn’t dare tell anybody what had happened. I was afraid I’d be ridiculed or possibly even punished. I’ve never told anyone about this until today.
And yet this memory has stayed with me through my entire life. The mother I never knew penetrated the veil between our world and the other world. I know a mother’s love is strong enough to do this, because I have experienced it.

Brother Blanchard also introduced Meliton to President Brigham Young. Meliton told President Young that more than anything, he wanted to translate the Book of Mormon into Spanish.
President Young asked Meliton to help the missionaries who were going to Mexico translate parts of the Book of Mormon into Spanish. Meliton spent many weeks translating the English words into Spanish. Each night he reviewed his translation with the missionaries. They spoke some Spanish but felt this important translation needed a native Spanish speaker. They knew Meliton was an answer to their prayers.
In 1875 the translation was published. It was called Trozos Selectos del Libro de Mormon (Selected Passages from the Book of Mormon).
The missionaries were now ready to go to Mexico. They loaded 1,500 copies of the translated scripture onto horseback and started on their journey. For the first time, Spanish speakers were able to read the Book of Mormon in their own language! Even though Meliton had lived thousands of miles away in Spain, Heavenly Father led him to exactly where he needed to be. Because of Meliton’s courage and faith, he helped bring the word of God to countless people.
Meliton Gonzalez Trejo (1844–1917) served several missions in Mexico and baptized some of the first members of the Church there. In 1886 Meliton helped finish translating the entire Book of Mormon into Spanish.

Carly W. from Rexburg, Idaho, USA, is a busy helper. At home Carly helps out by taking care of her family’s cats, dogs, and chickens. Because Carly is one of the best students in her class at school, she helps other children with math and reading. In Primary, Carly’s singing helps other children to feel the Spirit.
Because Carly has done such a good job helping others, some of her friends decided to help her too.
Carly was born with a disease called spina bifida. This disease makes it hard for Carly to use all of her muscles. Doing things like walking on uneven ground and climbing up stairs can be hard for her. At school, Carly wasn’t able to play on the playground because the playground equipment was hard for her to use. There were other children who also couldn’t play on the playground equipment.
“Sometimes I felt bad and frustrated at recess because I couldn’t play on the playground,” Carly says.
One of Carly’s friends, Halli Jo, and Halli Jo’s mom decided to earn money to build a playground that Carly and all the other students at the school could use.
Halli Jo, her mom, and a lot of other people worked to earn money for the new playground. It took a lot of work, but they were able to earn enough money to build a new playground that all the students could play on.
“It was a lot of hard work,” Halli Jo says. “But it never made me sad to do the work—it just made me love Carly more.”
Carly is happy to be able to play on the playground with her friends. She says, “I like walking up the ramps and going down the slides. Me and my friends have fun together.”

I know this is true from experience. Many years ago, as a university student, I met a man who worked for one of the largest computer companies in the world. This was in the early days of computing, and it just so happened that his company had sent him to sell computers to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

As far as I could tell, this salesman had no religious faith. Yet he said with wonder and exasperation, “In this church they were doing what they called ‘genealogy,’ searching for names of people who are dead, trying to identify their ancestors. People, mostly women, were running around between filing cabinets, searching through little cards for information.” If I remember right, he said the ladies were wearing tennis shoes so they could run a little faster. The man went on, “As I saw the magnitude of what they were trying to do, I realized that I had discovered the reason for the invention of computers.”

Well, he was partially right. Computers would be an important part of the future of family history work—just not the computers he was selling. An inspired leader of the Church chose not to buy his computers. The Church was to wait for technology that at that time had not yet even been imagined. But I have learned in the many years since that even the best technology can never be a substitute for revelation from heaven, like the kind that Church leader received. This is a spiritual work, and the Lord directs it through His Holy Spirit.

One Saturday in the middle of winter, my wife and I took advantage of a sunny but cold day to get to know our neighborhood better. We had recently moved thousands of miles from our home to the East Coast of the United States to pursue educational and career opportunities.
We decided to walk to a nearby university neither of us had visited. In time we found the university’s main library. We enjoy reading, and my wife, a graduate student, was curious to see what resources she might find for her studies. Because she was studying religious history, we browsed the stacks of the library’s religion section. As we glanced at some of the interesting titles, a small book with a familiar blue cover caught my eye.
“They have a Book of Mormon here!” I excitedly whispered.
I took the book from the shelf. It was an older copy, and I wondered how long it had been there. What really caught my attention was a small insert glued inside the front cover.
The insert was a brief testimony by a couple from Blackfoot, Idaho, USA. In their testimony, they explained what the Book of Mormon is and why it is important. They shared a brief but powerful testimony of the book, and they invited the reader to pray to know whether it was true.
Their words were simple, but their message went straight to my heart. Perhaps this couple meant for their testimony to be read by those not of our faith. Perhaps they had given this copy to someone they knew. Who knows how many times it had changed hands or how many miles it traveled to end up at the university library?
As I held the book in my hands, the Spirit filled my heart. For a moment, I felt my burdens wash away in the warmth of the Savior’s love.
That day in the library continues to remind me of the blessings I receive by reading the Book of Mormon and of the importance of sharing my testimony of it. Our testimonies may fall “upon stony places” or “into good ground” (see Matthew 13:3–9), but it is important that we share them. God will make sure they get delivered at the right time, in the right place, and to the right people.

“It isn’t fair,” I moaned. “Christmas is a week away, and I don’t have anything for Caitlyn.”
“I thought you were giving her the wind chimes you made at school,” Mom said.
“I was going to give her those because I couldn’t think of anything else.” I sighed. “I’m not supposed to know, but I saw what she’s going to give me—a silver necklace with a tiny pearl in it. It’s beautiful! And what do I give her? Some wind chimes I made at school.” I shook my head. “Maybe it would be different if Caitlyn didn’t already have everything.”
“Caitlyn has everything?” Mom looked up from the Primary lesson she was preparing.
“Well, nearly everything,” I muttered. “Her parents get her anything she asks for.” I shrugged. “She doesn’t ever ask for much. She deserves more than wind chimes from me.”
Last summer I had met Caitlyn at the park. She was sitting on one of the benches all by herself. At first, I didn’t pay any attention to her, and she seemed to ignore me, too. Even when I walked right in front of her, she didn’t look my way or say anything. She just was staring and smiling. Caitlyn almost always smiles.
My little sister, Tricia, and I were tossing a Frisbee back and forth, laughing and joking. I accidentally tossed the Frisbee over Tricia’s head, and it landed in front of Caitlyn’s bench.
“Do you mind tossing that to me?” Tricia called to her.
Caitlyn stood up cautiously. “Tell me where it is,” she said, smiling.
“Right in front of you,” Tricia giggled.
“How many steps in front of me?” Caitlyn continued to stare straight ahead.
“Look down,” Tricia coached. “Look down and you’ll see it.”
“But I can’t see,” Caitlyn came back. She said it as though it were the most ordinary thing in the whole world.
That day in the park, we told each other our names. A few days later, I saw Caitlyn there again. As soon as I said hello, she gave me a huge smile and a cheery, “Hi, Melissa. I hoped we’d meet again.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“I hardly ever forget a voice, especially a friendly one. I told Mrs. Wallace—she looks after me during the day—that I wanted to come back here in case you came again.” She reached out. “May I touch your face?” She explained, “I have to ‘see’ with my fingers.”
We sat and talked most of the afternoon. I learned that her father was a heart surgeon and her mother was an attorney. Caitlyn was their only child. She lived in a huge house east of the park. Mrs. Wallace was her special helper and friend. I might have been just a little jealous if it wasn’t for Caitlyn’s blindness.
“Have you always been …” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
Caitlyn was quiet for a moment; then she answered gently, “Not always. I could see until I was four. Then I was in an accident. I still remember little pictures of the world before everything was dark.” She hesitated. “But most things I don’t remember. Or I never saw them in the first place.”
Caitlyn and I were so different. I came from a pretty ordinary family. We certainly weren’t rich. I lived in a small house with my two brothers and three sisters. I loved to play ball and run and jump. School wasn’t exactly hard for me—it just didn’t interest me much.
Caitlyn loved school. She went to a special school hundreds of miles away, where she learned to read books with pages covered with tiny bumps. She ran her fingers over those tiny bumps and read stories. She could play the piano, and she had a special computer that helped her write and explore the world.
Even though we were different, we became wonderful friends.
Because her school was far away, she was home only part of the time, but during those times we spent hours together, either at her house or at mine. Often when she was at school, she called and we talked for hours. As our friendship grew, I sometimes forgot that she was blind.
Caitlyn will get some really neat gifts this Christmas,” I told Mom. “She doesn’t know it, of course, but her parents are giving her a new music system for her room and a new bed that looks like something out of a fairy tale. Why would she ever want my silly wind chimes?”
“She loves things she can hear. You said she loves wind chimes.”
I shook my head. “I like bubbles, but I don’t think I’d like bubbles for Christmas.” I sighed. “That’s the problem with having a friend who has everything.”
“Everything?”
I knew Mom was talking about Caitlyn’s eyes. “Everything I could give her.”
I leaned back in the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, trying to imagine what Caitlyn’s world was like. I opened my eyes and looked over at Mom. “I know what I’d like to give her. My eyes. Just for a day. Just so she could see the world again. She’d have the memories of everything she had seen that day. I’d be OK, missing my eyes for one day, and that one day of sight would mean so much to her.”
Mom smiled at me. “It would be a wonderful gift. I wish we could both give her that. But we can’t. Caitlyn will know that you are giving her the chimes from your heart. That’s what will mean the most to her. And every time she hears them, she’ll think of you, even when she’s away at school.”
Mom helped me wrap the chimes. Then I went to my room, lay on my bed, and closed my eyes, imagining that I had magically lent my eyes to Caitlyn. I wished that Jesus Christ was here and that He healed Caitlyn’s eyes. I knew that He will come again one day, and He will do His miracles. One day Caitlyn will see again. I knew it. But I wanted her to see now!
While I was lying there, locked for a moment in Caitlyn’s dark world, it came to me what I could give her that would be special enough. I leaped from my bed and went charging down the hall.
Mom listened as I excitedly explained what I wanted to do. I needed her help. Smiling, she agreed, and for the next few days, we worked together—planning, preparing, practicing, pretending. Mom and I drove down the street, walked down the sidewalks, peered into store windows, and saw hundreds of other things all around us. I looked through my eyes as though they were Caitlyn’s. I saw things that I had never noticed before.
Two days before Christmas, Mom drove me to Caitlyn’s house. She was smiling wildly with excitement. “Ever since you called,” her mother said, “she’s been waiting for this evening. I don’t know what you have planned, but—”
“It will be wonderful, whatever it is,” Caitlyn interrupted, because Melissa is giving it to me.”
I led Caitlyn to the car, and we sat in the back. As soon as I closed the door, I announced, “I wanted to give you something wonderful for Christmas, something that came from me.” I reached out and touched her hand. “I thought if I could, I’d let you borrow my eyes for a day. And I’ve discovered a way to do it! Tonight I’m going to use my eyes to show you Christmas.”
Caitlyn nodded but looked confused.
“We’re driving down your street,” I started, my voice shaking with excitement. Mom drove very slowly so I could describe everything. “Right here at the corner is a gorgeous manger scene. Mary is by the manger, holding the Baby Jesus. Lights are shining from overhead. There are little gray donkeys walking across the snow and shepherds and lambs and …”
Mom and I took Caitlyn down several streets and described the decorated homes. We drove downtown to the Village of Lights. We walked up and down Main Street, peering in the big windows of the department stores and in the little panes of the small shops. When we stopped at a cute cafe to sip hot chocolate and munch cinnamon rolls, I described the tiny decorative elves perched on the counter, the holly hanging on beams overhead, and the mistletoe dangling from the ceiling above each booth.
Outside, we met Santa Claus, and we saw carolers. I didn’t want to miss anything, because I knew that if I didn’t see everything, neither would Caitlyn.
It was late when we returned to Caitlyn’s house. As she burst through her front door, she called out to her mother, “It was awesome! It was better than awesome! We went everywhere, and Melissa described everything. It was as though I could see again.”
Caitlyn bubbled with excitement, and I was so happy that I thought I’d burst. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the package containing my simple wind chimes. I pressed the small present into her hands. “This is also for you. Whenever you hear the chimes, you can remember tonight and everything we saw together.”
Caitlyn threw her arms around my neck and squeezed until I didn’t think I could breathe. “It was the best gift ever!” she whispered in my ear.

Some years ago, my husband, David, and I took our young children to a lake to vacation. He has always had the greatest confidence in their ability to do anything for which they are prepared. He taught a small son, age nine, how to manage a one-man sailboat, then let our son take the boat by himself out onto the lake. He joyfully sailed away, his bright life jacket and silhouette getting smaller and smaller against the horizon. Finally, we felt that Dave should make sure all was well, so in another little boat he sailed out to him. When he arrived Doug was sitting calmly in the boat, but he had forgotten how to turn it around! The thing I love was his response to his dad. He looked up and said, “I knew you’d come.”

One young woman allowed a young man to kiss her and later discovered that he had also kissed someone else he was dating. She felt betrayed. Why? Because his expressions of affection didn’t carry the level of commitment she thought they did. This kind of miscommunication often leads to hurt feelings and tears. President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, cautioned, “Men, take care not to make women weep, for God counts their tears.”2

Had this couple communicated better in words what expressions of affection mean, they would have postponed the sharing of affection and avoided the heartache that comes when it appears that one has lied with his actions.

Seminary students in the combined early-morning classes of the Gilmer First, Second, and Third wards, Gilmer Texas Stake, accepted the challenge to think, speak, dress, and act like a missionary every day for a week.
The challenge was issued by the full-time missionaries. And the students were challenged to mark and place a Book of Mormon with one of their friends during the week. Commitment sheets were distributed and signed. At first, some of the students were hesitant to commit themselves for fear of the reaction of nonmember friends. Instead, their friends ended up encouraging them.
One student reported about the experience, “I felt at first that I would be embarrassed, but after I started, I found I really didn’t mind.”
Another student, an athlete who at first was concerned about his image at school, wrote, “I first thought this was nonsense, but listening to the missionaries changed my mind. I wanted to aid them in the work of the Lord.”
One of the seminary instructors said, “For the first time, many of them realized the influence they can exert on their friends. It did them good to see they can be positive influences if they want to be.”
The project did not go unnoticed by school faculty. Other students began dressing up when the LDS youth did.
The feelings were best summarized by Samantha Bowers. She said, “The feeling of love and togetherness I have had for everyone this week has been so special. It is a feeling and experience I will never forget.”

I go to chess club after school. One day when chess club was over, I went to a side door to meet my mom. I expected her to be waiting outside, but she wasn’t there. I went to another door in the back, but she wasn’t there either. I began to feel lost and scared. I decided to say a prayer asking for help to find my mom. About 10 seconds later my chess teacher found me and told me that my mom was waiting at the front door. I was glad my prayer had been answered.

There are some who have difficulty forgiving themselves and who dwell on all of their perceived shortcomings. I quite like the account of a religious leader who went to the side of a woman who lay dying, attempting to comfort her—but to no avail. “I am lost,” she said. “I’ve ruined my life and every life around me. There is no hope for me.”

The man noticed a framed picture of a lovely girl on the dresser. “Who is this?” he asked.

The woman brightened. “She is my daughter, the one beautiful thing in my life.”

“And would you help her if she were in trouble or had made a mistake? Would you forgive her? Would you still love her?”

“Of course I would!” cried the woman. “I would do anything for her. Why do you ask such a question?”

“Because I want you to know,” said the man, “that figuratively speaking, Heavenly Father has a picture of you on His dresser. He loves you and will help you. Call upon Him.”

A hidden wedge to her happiness had been removed.

“Wake up, Joseph Fielding,” whispered his mother as she gently nudged his shoulder. The boy rose automatically from bed and dressed in the dark. He knew that some woman was having a baby and that she needed his mother’s help. Being the oldest child, Joseph Fielding often drove his mother to one of her patients. Reminiscing once, he said, “I remember getting up in the middle of the night, taking the lantern to the dark barn and hitching up the horse to the buggy. I would drive my mother to the home of an expectant mother so she could serve as midwife and help with the new baby. I would sit in the buggy and wait. I wondered why babies were so often born in the middle of the night.”

When my husband and I lost our first baby, doctors told us I would never have children. I was devastated. I grieved and looked for answers. My husband also grieved. We prayed and knew how important it was to be an eternal family. Eventually, we were sealed in the Los Angeles California Temple.
I was still trying to understand why this loss had happened when I remembered my patriarchal blessing. I started to read my blessing and found a part I had completely forgotten about. It said I would be blessed with sons and daughters. I thought that there had to be something wrong with what the doctors had told me. I went to the doctor and was told again that I was not going to be able to have a baby.
About five years after we lost our first baby, we decided to try in vitro fertilization. At the first appointment, a pregnancy test showed positive. I couldn’t believe it. They ran more tests and confirmed that I was already pregnant. Nine months later, we welcomed our daughter into our family. Now, I am a mom to four incredible kids.

My brother and I have always been best friends. One day when I was four and Ammon was three, we were at the playland of a restaurant close to our house. I skinned my knees pretty badly. They were still hurting a lot when our family came home, and I started to cry.
Ammon held my hand and prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, please bless Kyli that her knees won’t hurt. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” I stopped crying right away. Within an hour, my knees had scabbed over. By the next day, they were almost completely healed, and they never bothered me again.
Kylian and Ammon Saylor, ages 5 and 4Warsaw, Indiana

Elder Asay has many fond memories of farm work during his childhood. One summer he had a job tromping hay. The hay was stacked loosely on a wagon, and he would climb on the stack, settle the hay, and put it in place so the stack could be high and yet would balance. On the last load, at the end of the day, they would keep it on the wagon and ride with it into town.
One particular day the last load was stacked really high as Carlos and the others rode into town. “Moving up the lane,” Elder Asay related, “we hit some pretty deep ruts, and the load shifted. There was a slope, and as we made a turn from the lane up onto the highway, one of the Jensen brothers, who was driving the team, said he didn’t know if the load would stay on the wagon. Brother Jensen asked me to move to the rear of the load so that if it shifted and tipped over, I would be able to slip off the back. But when I got midway onto the load, the wagon tipped and I was thrown some distance onto a rock pile. I remember landing on my shins and then all the hay came down on top of me. My legs were bruised and bleeding.
“Hay is heavy and I thought I was going to suffocate, but somehow I remembered there was a fence close-by. So I started to crawl toward it, knowing that if I could reach it, I could climb up out of the hay. My progress was slow, but as I came up to the top of the fence, I saw the Jensen brothers frantically looking for me. It was a miracle my life was spared.”

At the time, I was working and taking a full schedule of classes. My wife and I also had a small baby to care for. With all these demands on my schedule, I didn’t have much time for studying. I prayed every day for the companionship of Holy Ghost. I needed guidance to help me make the most of my time. I needed assistance understanding the material as well as remembering it later during exams.
One day during class, a professor was writing sets of advanced equations on the whiteboard to illustrate a point. These complex equations didn’t relate to that class, but he wanted to talk about them briefly. After a few minutes the professor erased the board.
My next class was computer science, and we had an exam that day. Those exact equations from the board in my previous class were on the test! What’s truly remarkable is that we had never studied these before in our computer science class. All that memory came back to me from the other class I had attended, and I was able to answer the problem.
When the computer science professor graded the tests, he was so sure nobody answered that specific problem correctly that he automatically marked it wrong for every student. But when I got my paper back, I showed him that the answer I wrote on the paper was correct. It was wonderful.
The Holy Ghost helped me make the most of all my studying opportunities throughout college. I was able to achieve high grades and earn scholarships, which helped me pay for school.