Gospel Story Finder

Returning from serving in the Thailand Mission, Sister Phonphongrat worked for a publishing company for five years. But then she began to feel that she wanted to do something to serve others more. She applied for a job in the Phanat-Nikhom refugee camp in Cholburi, which prepares refugees from Southeast Asia for a new life. Some of these refugees have sponsors in the United States and need to learn American customs and culture.
“The camp administrator wanted to hire someone who knew the English language well,” she recalls. “When I went for an interview, I told them that my English wasn’t very good, but that I knew about American culture. I said that I wanted the refugees most of all to know that I loved them, that they were important, and that they were children of God. The interviewer looked at me and asked, ‘What are you? A Mormon?’ But I got the job.”
Refugees are not Sister Phonphongrat’s only pupils. She has taught both seminary and institute classes. “As a seminary student I learned the importance of keeping a journal and studying the scriptures,” she recalls. “I always write out the scriptures I want to remember and use them to guide me in my daily life.”
Since her baptism, Sister Phonphongrat has received her temple endowment and patriarchal blessing. Both experiences have been sources of great strength for her. “They are something I can refer to, something I can get strength from. It used to bother me that I wasn’t married, but now I know I have to live the commandments, be active in the Church, and live the gospel principles as best I can. If I do, everything will be all right. I feel I have a work to do.”

Just over eight months ago, a monstrous hurricane swept into Florida. Jack Demaree of the Montgomery Alabama Stake and many like him drove over two thousand miles round trip, using their vacation time to assist the hurricane victims. He brought back an article from a Florida newspaper: “In hot, humid conditions Saturday, about 12,000 volunteers—including 9,000 Mormon church members from six states who brought chain saws, plywood and tar paper—swarmed into South Florida. … So many people [were] at work that only two hundred showed up Saturday morning for an outdoor prayer service … despite the … prediction that more than 5,000 would attend” (Sheryl Stolberg, “Tent Cities Begin to Fill In,” Ocala, Florida, newspaper, 6 Sept. 1992).
In my conversation with Brother Demaree about his experience, he said, “All I did was cut up trees that were blown down by the hurricane.”

When I was growing up, my parents never took my siblings and me to church. We were not a religious family. For me, Sunday was just a day off from school when we could play. I thought my life was complete. It wasn’t until a friend showed me what I was missing that I realized how empty my life had been.
When I was 11 or 12, my mother was baptized into the Church. She would often ask me if I wanted to go to church with her, and I always said no. When we moved to Texas the summer before my junior year in high school, I still didn’t go to church with her.
At the beginning of the school year I had no friends. After a few weeks, I became friends with Brad. He was in some of my classes. We would talk in class but never did anything outside of school.
One day my mom took me and my four siblings to church with her. I went, hoping to leave as soon as possible. When we sat down, I looked up and saw Brad preparing to bless the sacrament. Brad saw me as well.
The next day at school, Brad came to me and said, “I didn’t know you were a Latter-day Saint.”
I replied, “I’m not.”
Pretty soon Brad was taking me to Mutual, youth conference, and I was even coming to church every Sunday.
Having never read the Bible, I didn’t know much about Jesus Christ. Brad gave me a Book of Mormon, and I started to read it. From that time, there was a visible change in my life for the better. I knew what I was reading was true. The Holy Ghost bore witness of it. It was through the Book of Mormon that I came to know Jesus Christ and all He has done for me. I changed the way I acted. I started living the way the Bible and Book of Mormon told me I should live.
One day Brad finally asked me, “Donny, what do we have to do to get you baptized?” I had never thought about it before, but it felt like the right thing to do. On June 26, 2000, Brad baptized me into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Three months later, I baptized my older brother, Dan. We are both currently serving missions.
Looking back at how I felt about religion before, I have gained so much. Now I know my Savior Jesus Christ. I have the scriptures to guide me. And I have the gift of the Holy Ghost, who bears witness of the truth.

My teachers were heaven-sent. May I mention but a few: our former stake president, Harold B. Lee; President Marion G. Romney; and President J. Reuben Clark.
President Clark too was a master teacher. It was my privilege during those years to assist him in the preparation of his manuscripts that they might find their way into printed volumes. What a unique and profitable experience to be with him frequently. Knowing that I was a new bishop presiding over a difficult ward, he emphasized the need for me to know my people, to understand their circumstances, and, in the spirit of tenderness, to minister to their needs. One day he recounted the example of the Savior as recorded in Luke, chapter seven, verses eleven through fifteen:
“And it came to pass … that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him. …
“When he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. …
“And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.
“And he came and touched the bier. … And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.
“And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.”
When President Clark closed the Bible, I noticed that he was weeping. In a quiet voice he said, “Tom, be kind to the widows, and look after the poor.”

After Sister Teh and I dated for a little while, it became obvious that I wanted to spend eternity with her. Naturally, I made it a subject of earnest prayer and fasting. No particular change in my feeling followed. I did not feel a burning in my bosom. I did, however, continue to feel good about my decision, so I persevered. Sister Teh got the same answer, so here we are. Since that experience, I have arrived at many of my decisions in a similar fashion (see D&C 6:22–23).

As I began talking to you tonight, I was remembering the family I grew up in. In closing, let me tell you something else I remember about that family. When I was only nine years old, our one-day-old baby brother died. We were so sad and disappointed and crying so hard. And do you know what our father did? He gathered us together, and we knelt in family prayer. He thanked Heavenly Father for this little baby that we’d had such a short time, and then he asked the Lord to bless this little baby, David, who was now in heaven. Daddy asked Heavenly Father to bless our mom, who was very sick. Mother regained her health, and we’ve all tried to live so that we can be reunited as a family with David one day. I always pray for David. He will always be my brother. We are an eternal family because our parents were married in the temple. You can give your children that same gift, the blessing of belonging to an eternal family. It is the most priceless gift you could ever provide for them. Plan to do it. Prepare to do it. Live worthy of it. May He bless you to do so, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Another of the great blessings of my life has been to feel the closeness of heaven during those moments when I sit at the bedside of people as they pass away. Early one morning some years ago, I entered the hospital room of a faithful Latter-day Saint widow who had cancer. Two of her daughters were sitting with her. As I went to her bedside, I quickly discovered that she was no longer suffering, because she had just died.

In that moment of death, the room was filled with peace. Her daughters had a sweet sadness, but their hearts were filled with faith. They knew that their mother was not gone but had returned home.23 Even in our moments of deepest grief, in the moments when time stands still and life seems so unfair, we can find comfort in our Savior because He suffered as well.24 It was a privilege for me to be in that room.

The family home evening we remember most fondly was one we held at a difficult time. Due to a change in management, my husband had gone through some challenges at work and felt discouraged.
We decided family home evening that week would be in his honor. Every member of the family wrote him a letter of thanks, saying why we love him and what we hope for him. Then we made an album of photographs of the family at important times, such as anniversaries, marriages, sealings, births, and other events. We wrote a comment by each one, ending each with “And so we are a happy family.” At the close of the evening, my daughter and I sang a Primary song that contains a similar phrase (see “A Happy Family,” Children’s Songbook, 198).
During family home evening we could feel the Savior’s love for us and the love we have for each other.
I am grateful for the inspired commandment to hold family home evening. Obeying it strengthens us, preparing us to be an eternal family.
Kenia Duarte dos Santos, Brazil

Even Maricar Mendoza, who admits she’s somewhat shy, didn’t hesitate to raise her hand when her teacher asked who in the class wasn’t Catholic. Maricar felt she had to speak up. “I said, ‘Ma’am, I’m a Mormon.’ I explained to her what our church is, and I was able to discuss a lot of things, such as latter-day prophets, Joseph Smith, and the plan of salvation.”

Maricar still considers herself shy. But she’s glad she spoke up.

A youth group in Missouri, USA, decided to put their culinary prowess to the test on this tasty activity. All youth were separated into groups. Then each team was given a cake, some decorating supplies, and the task of decorating the cake to depict a specific scene from the Book of Mormon. In the end, before eating the cakes, everybody had to guess the scene on each cake. “The Spirit was so strong and we were having fun,” said one of the young women. “We all got along and helped each other out.”

However, I warn you, a new name, new flexibility, and fewer reports won’t make an ounce of difference in our service unless we see this as an invitation to care for one another in a bold, new, holier way, as President Nelson has just said. As we lift our spiritual eyes toward living the law of love more universally, we pay tribute to the generations who have served that way for years. Let me note a recent example of such devotion in hopes that legions more will grasp the Lord’s commandment to “be with and strengthen” our brothers and sisters.
Last January 14, a Sunday, just a little after 5:00 p.m., my young friends Brett and Kristin Hamblin were chatting at their home in Tempe, Arizona, after Brett’s day serving in the bishopric and Kristin’s busy day caring for their five children.
Suddenly Kristin, a seemingly successful survivor of breast cancer the previous year, fell unresponsive. A call to 911 brought an emergency team trying desperately to revive her. As Brett prayed and pleaded, he quickly placed just two other telephone calls: one to his mother requesting her help with the children, the other to Edwin Potter, his home teacher. The latter conversation in its entirety went as follows:
Edwin, noting caller ID, said, “Hey, Brett, what’s up?”
Brett’s near-shouted response was “I need you here—now!”
In fewer minutes than Brett could count, his priesthood colleague was standing at his side, helping with the children and then driving Brother Hamblin to the hospital behind the ambulance carrying his wife. There, less than 40 minutes after she had first closed her eyes, the physicians pronounced Kristin dead.
As Brett sobbed, Edwin simply held him in his arms and cried with him—for a long, long time. Then, leaving Brett to grieve with other family members who had gathered, Edwin drove to the bishop’s home to tell him what had just transpired. A marvelous bishop started immediately for the hospital while Edwin drove on to the Hamblins’ home. There he and his wife, Charlotte, who had also come running, played with the five now-motherless Hamblin children, ages 12 down to 3. They fed them an evening meal, held an impromptu musical recital, and helped get them ready for bed.
Brett told me later, “The amazing part of this story isn’t that Edwin came when I called. In an emergency, there are always people willing to help. No, the amazing part of this story is that he was the one I thought of. There were other people around. Kristin has a brother and sister less than three miles away. We have a great bishop, the greatest. But the relationship between Edwin and me is such that I felt instinctively to call him when I needed help. The Church provides us a structured way to live the second commandment better—to love, serve, and develop relationships with our brothers and sisters that help us move closer to God.”
Edwin said about the experience, “Elder Holland, the irony in all of this is that Brett has been our family’s home teacher for longer than I have been theirs. Over that time, he has visited us more as a friend than by assignment. He has been a great example, the epitome of what an active and involved priesthood bearer should be. My wife, our boys—we don’t see him as one obligated to bring us a message at the end of each month; we think of him as a friend who lives just down the street and around the corner, who would do anything in this world to bless us. I am glad I could repay just a little bit of the debt I owe him.”

Making a quilt does not seem like a conventional way to prepare for a temple; but that’s exactly what Sarah Cutler was asked to do to help unify the young women of the Albuquerque New Mexico East Stake, when the Albuquerque New Mexico Temple was being built. Sarah designed the quilt top, incorporating a part of the Young Women theme, and had all the young women of the stake sign its large border. The quilt was completed by March 5, when the temple was dedicated.
“I’ve thought about how much making this quilt is like preparing to make and keep sacred covenants in the temple,” Sarah says. “The first thing we need is a desire to go to the temple. … On the quilt of our preparation for the temple, we just have to keep going stitch by stitch by tiny stitch.”

I’m so grateful for my family, and that includes my ancestors. One way I like to show gratitude for all of my family is by doing family history work.
This all started with my Personal Progress project for Individual Worth, value experience 6. I wanted to learn how to do family history work. At first I began with indexing and then tried looking for names on FamilySearch.org. It was so cool to start finding names of my own ancestors. Recently, I went to the temple with several names I’d found. I was able to do the baptisms and the confirmations. I loved it! The whole experience reminded me of my own baptism. It made me feel good to imagine that my ancestors were watching and that they were excited to have their ordinances done.
I’ve done temple baptisms before, but doing my own family names brought a whole new meaning to the names and ordinances for me.
After the baptisms were complete, I then sent the names to other family members to complete the remaining ordinances. My aunt and uncle have done 12 names so far. Sometimes I even babysit for them so they can go to the temple together.
At first I used to do family history research mostly on Sundays, but lately I’ve been squeezing it in during the week whenever I can. My grandfather is a convert to the Church and the only member in his family, so there’s a lot of opportunity to do temple ordinances for my ancestors on that side. I’m excited to research and work on their names as I hear stories about them from my grandfather.
I’m so thankful to have a loving family, and I know my ancestors are a big part of that family. I’m glad I can do this sacred work for them.
Emily H., 15, Arizona, USA

Soon the travelers were aboard a train bound for Nebraska, where the railroad ended. Then their belongings were loaded onto ox-drawn wagons for the long trek across the plains to Utah.
The route lay along the Platte River that had to be forded several times. On one such occasion, someone took Albertina from her tired mother and set her on one of the loaded wagons being drawn through the water by oxen. All went well until the animals tried clambering up the slippery bank and the load shifted, throwing the little girl into the river.
“Mother! Mother!” Albertina cried as she struggled to keep her head above water.
Anna plunged into the cold water and was immediately caught in the strong current. She managed to catch hold of Albertina, but she was unable to swim as her heavy, sodden skirt wrapped around her, pinning her arms and legs. She struggled vainly to reach the shore as the current dragged them into deeper water.
The captain saw Anna’s plight but stood by helplessly. Suddenly, as though in answer to Anna’s silent prayer, her feet brushed against a submerged sandbar. Still clutching Albertina, Anna’s floundering subsided, and she gained a temporary footing on the sand just below the surface of the swirling water. A moment later a rope was thrown to them and, after a short struggle in the cold water, friendly hands reached out and helped the two to safety.
That evening as they sat by the campfire drying their wet clothes, Albertina looked up at her mother and said, “Mama, I was afraid when I fell in. Weren’t you afraid too?”
“Yes,” replied Anna, “but when those you love are in danger, you don’t let fear keep you from trying with all your might to save them. And remember, Albertina, our Savior is always near to hear our prayers for help.”

One morning as I finished reading from and pondering the Book of Mormon, I realized that I would again finish it by the end of the year. This realization brought back the memory of my brother, whom I cared for in my home during his final weeks with terminal cancer in 2005.
Oliver was determined to fulfill a promise to himself to follow the counsel of President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) and read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year.1 But by that fall, Oliver still had many pages to go. Eventually he became so weak that he could no longer read to himself.
Determined to keep his commitment, Oliver asked me if I would read the Book of Mormon to him. I was much further along in my own reading, but I was glad to begin where he had left off.
By reading to Oliver every day, I was able to help him reach his goal to finish the book by year’s end, just days before he died. By that time he could hardly speak audibly, but his mind was clear and active. With much effort, he often expressed his appreciation to me for the gift I had given him, saying he could now die in peace because he had fulfilled his promise.
I had read the Book of Mormon many times before, but I had never felt its spirit so powerfully or understood its precepts so clearly as I did during those waning months of my brother’s life. Truly, Oliver had given me the greater gift.

One day someone called me at work, claiming to be from the governor’s office and wanting to know if I would be interested in a position as the governor’s assistant. I laughingly asked, “Who is this?” He explained that the call was legitimate and invited me to come the next day for an interview. I went with a sinking feeling that it could be a joke. It wasn’t. The interview went well, and I was hired on the spot.
In my new job I used the skills I had gained from years of speaking in church. The governor could not attend all the events to which he was invited; therefore, his staff members were expected to speak in his place. All those talks in church and from serving in leadership positions had given me the experience I needed to speak in public alongside senators, local and national dignitaries, and celebrities. I served as the governor’s assistant for seven years until we both retired.

In March of 2020, my grandpa passed away. At his funeral, my dad shared some childhood stories. While growing up, it seemed like my dad was always getting himself into trouble—falling into a drainage ditch, trying to swim in a fast-moving river, getting kicked in the head by a horse. My dad joked that in each of these instances, death was trying to come between him and his dad. But in every story, his dad was there, and everything turned out OK. These stories made us laugh, but my dad used them to highlight an important truth.

“The last time death tried to separate us was today,” my dad said. “But because of the Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, we can never truly be separated.”

As we continue to share stories about my grandpa and our family, we remember that we belong to something so much bigger than ourselves: an eternal family. That knowledge provides us with the strength and confidence to confront any challenge.

The knowledge that we belong to an eternal family provides us with the strength and confidence to confront any challenge.

Then came the time when we wondered what we should do in a strange land and a strange language. We heard them talk but did not know what they were saying. Finally someone came and told us in Danish to follow him. He took us to the old tithing yard. There were our boxes with our things in, both bedding and a little food. And there we stayed the next night.
During the day I thought I would go out and see the sights of Salt Lake City. It being summer time, the June apples were getting ripe, and I saw some apples which looked good to me. I could not ask for them; and if I should take an apple without asking for it, then it would be stealing as much as if I should take a dollar in money. But I saw a nice red apple lying under the fence, so I stooped down and took it and started off down the sidewalk. I had only taken a few steps when a man said, “Here, stop?” I thought he was speaking Norwegian for “stop” means the same in Norwegian. So, of course, I stopped.
But he went behind the house. I started off again, but I guess he saw me start. He looked round the housed and shouted “stop” again. I was frightened for I knew I had taken an apple without asking for it. I imagined he went to get a whip to beat me and I thought about what I would have gotten if I had been in Norway. But lo and behold, instead of that he had filled his hat with good, nice, red apples. I came back to the gate, and he handed me another apple and then another till I had my hands full. He told me something in English which I couldn’t understand. But he made signs to show me what he meant—to put them in my pockets, for I had large pockets in my coat. And he gave the whole hat full of apples to me.
It made such an impression on me that I never have forgotten. I had taken one, and instead of a beating he gave me a whole hatful. I have told you before I was rather bitter, but I am frank to say with this and the welcome to the festival the night before, the bitter feeling had all left me. It preached a better sermon than anything I could think of. A good act speaks louder than words.
I went back to the old tithing yard where I met my parents and brother and sisters. Of course I was so happy that I had some apples to give them. They wondered how I had got them. They knew I had no money to buy them with, and so they said, “You have been out stealing.” I said, “A man out in the city gave them to me.” They said there must be better people here in Utah than there were in Norway. I began to think so too.

When I was a little girl just two years of age, my father died in a tragic accident. I had a sister who was seven and a brother who was six. Life became very hard for my mother, who had to face life alone with her three little children. For some reason she decided to tell me that my daddy had gone away on a trip. Maybe she was so sad that she didn’t have the courage to tell me the truth.
So I kept waiting to see him and hear his sweet voice and be wrapped in his arms. My birthday would come, and I would wait. Christmas would come, and I would wait.
Then one day I learned the truth from a neighbor girl who was my age. It was devastating; I cried so hard. I started noticing other children with their fathers even more than before. It seemed so cruel.
The years went by, and I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I married a good man who wasn’t a member of the Church. But he gained a testimony and decided to be baptized.
Through our membership in the Church, a most wonderful blessing came into our lives. We learned that families can be forever, that a link in our family chain that had been left hanging by itself could be joined to the rest of the family. Through temple ordinances, my father could be baptized by proxy and sealed to his parents and I could eventually be sealed to him.
My husband was baptized for my father, and we had all the necessary temple ordinances performed. The Spirit of the Lord brought great joy to us. The anguish I had gone through as a child didn’t seem to matter when I compared it with this great joy and blessing. Knowing that families can be eternal was better than all the Christmases or birthdays my father and I could have spent together.
Today my father is sealed to his parents, and they, in turn, are sealed to their parents. As a result of the happiness I have experienced, I dedicate a great part of my time to doing family history so I can help families be joined together. Temple work brings the most wonderful blessings into our lives.

Can you ever understand how a blind person, a deaf person, or a crippled person feels? Lana Brown, director of the Learning Resource Center for the BYU College of Nursing contracted episodic multiple sclerosis in 1966. For the next two years she was confined to a wheelchair for periods of time. This experience taught her that there are things about the handicapped that can never be fully appreciated from books—things that nurses need to understand.
She instituted “Assignment Wheels” as a requirement of the BYU College of Nursing program to give the nurses a chance to learn firsthand about the handicapped. The program demands that each nursing student spend some time in a wheelchair as part of her learning experience.
The girls are given a list of procedures that must be accomplished on wheels, including all the activities of daily living. They must spend half a day in a wheelchair with a classmate nearby to help in case of accident or danger.
Regardless of how difficult or awkward, they must open doors, attend classes, get lunch in the cafeteria, move around in the small space of rest rooms, negotiate the ramps into buildings, and use the elevators.
The coeds then submit a report on their experience, relating the emotions they encountered as well as sharing insights into the practical aspects of wheelchair manipulation.
“Most girls hate it,” Miss Brown emphasized, “but it’s valuable for them and they know this. They discover the many feelings involved as they observe others’ reactions to the physically handicapped. They find themselves watching the ground or their feet to avoid people’s stares. More importantly they become more comfortable working with the disabled. They also gain confidence when asked to demonstrate the handling of a wheelchair to patients who will be confined over short or long periods of time.”