Gospel Story Finder

9. Live with Courage
You precious young ladies will need a lot of courage—courage to stand up to peer pressure, to resist temptation, to withstand ridicule or ostracism, to stand up for the truth. You will also need courage to face the challenges of life. One young woman who was a cross-country runner wrote: “I am often tempted to give up and quit during a race. During my first race this year, when I was just about to be overpowered and stop running, the words to the third verse of ‘How Firm a Foundation’ (Hymns, no. 85) filled my mind. The words gave me the courage to finish the race.”5
Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand, …
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.

A little old lady at a rest home turned to the old man next to her and said, “I can guess your age.”
“You can’t,” he replied.
“Yes, I can,” she said. “You go take a bath, shave, brush your hair, put on a nice clean shirt and a tie, and shine your shoes, and I’ll tell you.”
The old man was gone for about an hour. When he returned he was neat, clean, hair brushed, shoes polished, and in his suit. She said, “Now you go stand up against the wall.” He did.
He said, “Now, how old am I?” She said, “You’re 89.”
He responded, “That’s right, but how did you know?”
She said, “You told me yesterday.”

I walked into the house, exhausted. It had been a long day, and I was starving. I sat at the table while my mom made dinner, telling her everything I had done that day. All of a sudden my little sister, Cherri, was at my side. She twisted her hands together nervously and didn’t quite look at me.
“What happened?” I asked, not feeling very sympathetic.
“You know your pearl necklace?” she replied in a small voice. “Well, I was playing with it, and it broke.”
A million thoughts raced through my head. How many times had I told her not to play in my room or with my things? The necklace was hardly important, but that was beside the point. She had ignored my warnings one too many times.
Somehow I managed to bite my tongue, and an exasperated sigh escaped my lips. “Come on, show me where it is,” I said.
She took my hand and led me to my room. Pearls littered the floor, which wasn’t exactly clean to begin with.
“What have I told you about playing in my room, Cherri?”
“Not to,” she mumbled.
“Okay, then, why did you?” I pressed.
She just shrugged her little shoulders and looked at the floor. “I’m really sorry,” she said.
“Help me clean them up, and don’t play in here again,” I said. She did so and left the room, and I put the incident behind me.
The next day, I came home to an ecstatic Cherri. She grabbed my hand, jumping up and down. “I have something for you!” she said. “Sit here on the couch and I’ll be right back.”
She raced downstairs and returned a few minutes later cradling something in her hands. “Here, I made it for you all by myself,” she said proudly. “Mom didn’t even help me at all!”
She held out her little arms so I could see what she had made. Laying in her hands was a scrap of frayed black ribbon strung with meticulously arranged yellow and white plastic beads.
“It’s a necklace!” she said, jumping up and down again. “I made it for you because I broke your other one. Do you like it?”
I smiled. The necklace was a bit tacky, and yet it was beautiful. “Yes, Cherri, I love it.” I put it on and wore it the rest of the day to show my appreciation. I was so glad that I hadn’t yelled at my sister in anger and made her feel like I didn’t love her.
I kept her little token of restitution in my drawer, a constant reminder that a pearl necklace could never be as special or beautiful as my frayed black ribbon with yellow and white plastic beads from a precious younger sister.

Kay Lynn Wakefield learned an important lesson from a woman who worked at the Garden Tomb. “As we were hurrying along,” says Sister Wakefield, “the sounds of a clear soprano voice filled the air. I felt so drawn to the ethereal sound that I left the crowd and went to find out where it was coming from. And then I saw her! A little English lady sweeping one of the paths in the garden.
“As I visited with her, she expressed to me the joy she feels each day as she sweeps the paths at the Garden Tomb, often singing all the way. I told her that the Tabernacle Choir was going to sing in the Garden Tomb that day. Her eyes filled with tears, and she said, ‘Yes, I know, and I feel so privileged to be here today to hear them.’ Then I embraced her and left to again join the crowd. Once again I had been reminded not to be so intent on reaching the final destination that I forget to enjoy the journey.”

Every June my parents go rafting on the Snake River near Jackson Hole, Wyoming. In 1991 my dad let me float the river for the first time. I had waited a long time to be able to go. I felt very excited as I dressed, first in my swimsuit, then in my wetsuit. I put on my life jacket and climbed into the rubber raft with my mom and dad and the other adults with us.
The river was muddy and running very high because of a heavy spring snow melt. The color of the water was like hot chocolate. I rode in the very front of the raft with my feet tucked under the thwart (rower’s seat), and held tightly to the front rope. I laughed and screamed as we rode through the rapids. The water was very cold, so I ducked my head as the big waves crashed over me. To keep the boat straight, the adults paddled through the rapids. During the calm parts, we would talk and laugh.
My dad thought that we had already passed a dangerous rapid called Three Ordeal. He doesn’t like going through it because it’s a hydraulic wave, which means that it’s like a big washing machine with one strong wave. He says that it’s like riding over a spillway, then getting caught on the powerful wave at the bottom.
The adults were talking during a calm stretch in the river, and the raft was floating kind of sideways. My dad looked up and realized that we were heading right for Three Ordeal. He had just enough time to get the boat straight. The grownups started paddling as hard as they could to pick up enough speed to pull us over the wave.
I ducked my head as we hit the first big wave, and when I looked up, I saw Uncle Jerry being thrown from the raft. Clinging to the rope, I looked around. The raft was empty except for me! The force of the wave had knocked all the adults into the churning river. I learned later that the force of the collision folded the raft in half, with the back almost touching the front.
While the adults were being swept downriver, the wave trapped the raft and me in the middle of the river. The raft twisted and turned and rocked up and down like a teeter-totter. I was very scared, but I clung to the rope, keeping my feet wedged under the rower’s seat. I looked for my mom and dad—where were they? Should I jump into the river with everyone else? What should I do?
Then I felt something in the middle of my heart tell me, “Stay in the raft.” Suddenly I felt calm instead of panicky. I felt I was being helped and protected. I believe it was the Holy Ghost. I obeyed the prompting and stayed in the raft. Soon it broke free of the roaring wave and started floating down the river. Oh, what a feeling to be safe and protected by the Holy Ghost!
Once I didn’t have waves crashing around me, I saw my aunt and uncle on the bank. Again I wondered if I should jump in the river and swim to the shore. Again, I had a strong feeling to stay in the raft. I kept still, and the raft floated to the bank by itself. I grabbed some branches and held on to them until a friend came and tied the raft to a bush. My parents and the other adults were all safe.
I learned many things from that experience. As soon as the adults reached shore, they prayed that Heavenly Father would protect me. Twice I had felt the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Twice I obeyed the promptings and was kept safe from the dangers of the river. I learned that maybe the raft didn’t float to the bank by itself after all. I learned that Heavenly Father can accomplish things when people can’t. He can accomplish all things.

We got an extra meal from a restaurant so that we could give it to someone who was hungry. We saw a police car parked nearby and asked the policeman if he had eaten lunch. He had not! He said he was hungry and that we were a blessing to him. We had the best feeling knowing we had helped someone.
Callister, Kerrigan, and Preston S., ages 7, 5, and 3, Texas, USA

Illustration by Allen Garns
When I was called as Relief Society president, I was a busy young mother. I had grown up in the Church and lived my life according to its teachings, but I knew I wasn’t perfect and felt concerned about my ability to help the struggling sisters in my ward.
One Sunday in church I felt particularly downhearted. All day I had been stopped by sisters who needed me. Some needed help with welfare, and some just needed me to listen to them. Then the Spirit prompted me not to go into sacrament meeting when it started, and to my surprise I met a less-active sister in the hall who needed comfort and help and could not wait until the end of the meeting.
When church ended, I was exhausted! I cried in the car all the way home. In my head the following words rang: “Talk to the bishop!” I felt that the bishop would have something wise to tell me about how I could feel less burdened with my calling, but I didn’t want to bother him at the end of a long day at church. I had decided to put off calling him when the phone rang. It was my bishop. He had felt prompted to call me.
I told the bishop how draining it had been for me when so many things needed to be solved at once and how sad I felt that I could not help more sisters. He listened patiently. We also went through some of the welfare questions that had come up during the day, and I felt better.
When the conversation ended, I said, “I thought you would have something wise to tell me about how not to feel so overburdened.” He answered that he wished he had something like that to say, but unfortunately he didn’t.
Even though my question wasn’t answered, I felt happy when I hung up the phone. I felt that the Lord had answered my need for guidance and support.
During the following weeks the feelings of insecurity returned, and I prayed to understand what I needed to do to become a better Relief Society president. One day, as I listened to general conference, some words caught my attention, and the Spirit spoke strongly to my heart. I understood that the reason I had felt so inadequate was because I was inadequate on my own.
Through his example, my bishop had shown me how important it is to listen to the Holy Ghost. It is the Spirit that is the key to our callings in the Church, not our own talents or skills. For the first time in a long time, I felt peace and assurance.
I still lack experience and am just as busy with my family as before, but I no longer believe that I must carry out my calling perfectly. Heavenly Father can provide me with the things I need to carry out His will and is able to magnify our efforts as long as we keep His commandments.

“There were times when we thought that if we were to pay our tithes then we wouldn’t have enough for everything,” said Larry. “But we did pay our tithes, and miracles have happened—in small measures, but to us I think, they are great,” he says. “We feel happy that the blessings that the Lord has given us, in this time, are the blessings that fill our needs.”

Church was great, wasn’t it?
Now what should we do?
We could write letters to Grandpa or visit Sister Gomez. Or is there someone else we could help?
On the way to church, I saw people who looked like they didn’t have homes.
Can we give something to them?
Good idea!
I’ll find a list of donations the homeless shelter suggests. Let’s see what we have at home.
Can we make some muffins to give to them too?
You bet.
A little while later …
Hi! We wanted to give you these.
They have lots of good stuff in them—even muffins!
Thank you!
God bless you.
I’m glad we helped people today.
Me too!
Thanks to Cayden and Ammon G. for sharing their story with us. And sharing their great example!

Patrick Smith, another young man in the Hingham stake, reports that once a month in his branch’s Aaronic Priesthood meetings, the young men report on any missionary experience they have had and then set up times to work with the full-time missionaries.
“Not long ago I went with the missionaries to teach a family who had already been taught the Joseph Smith story,” Patrick says. “The elders asked me to teach about Christ coming to the earth and establishing His Church. Preach My Gospel clearly illustrated everything and listed scriptures to back everything up. It was all outlined there.
“I knew about these things and had a testimony of them, but Preach My Gospel and going on exchanges with the missionaries has helped me teach these principles better,” Patrick says. “The doctrines outlined in the book have reinforced what I’ve learned at home and in Primary for as long as I can remember. And the things taught in Preach My Gospel invite the Spirit, which is the most important thing we can have when we’re talking about the Church.”

“Have a good time!” Julie’s mother called as she leaned on her cane and waved.
“I will!” Julie said, waving back.
Today was field day at school, which meant there would be races and awards. It was usually an exciting day, but Julie was distracted as she walked to school. She kept thinking about how much Mom had changed over the past year. Mom used to run and play and even taught Julie to stand on her head! But ever since getting sick, Mom couldn’t walk very well.
“It’s OK,” Mom usually said. “Watching you run and play makes me happy.”
Julie wanted to bring home an award ribbon for Mom so badly she could hardly stand it! There was only one problem—she was the smallest one in the class and didn’t usually win at sporty things.
Maybe if I pray, Heavenly Father will help me, Julie thought. As she prayed, a warm feeling filled her heart. She smiled. It felt like the Spirit was telling her that field day was going to be great.
At school the students were gathering into groups and teams.
“Hey, Julie! Come try this,” Sophia yelled from the long-jump line.
When it was her turn, Julie took a deep breath and ran as fast as she could. She pushed off the start line and felt the wind whip her hair as she sailed over the sand. She landed with a thump and remembered to fall forward.
“That’s the farthest I’ve ever jumped!” Julie said to Sophia when she saw her score. It wasn’t far enough to earn a ribbon, but Julie felt good inside, like she shouldn’t give up.
Soon another friend, Evie, was calling to them.
“Come try the 50-yard dash!”
Julie lined up next to lots of other kids. When the starter yelled, “Go!” Julie pumped her legs as fast as she could.
Wow, I’m running really fast! Julie thought. She came in fourth place—not quite fast enough to earn a ribbon. Julie felt a flicker of worry. But there was still time for one more event.
Julie and her friends decided to try the relay race. After Sophia ran around the track, Julie stretched out her hand for the baton.
I think we’re in first place! Julie thought as she took the baton and ran. But as she handed the baton to Evie, another runner pulled ahead.
The good feelings Julie had faded away. Still breathing hard, she walked to a nearby hill and plopped down on the grass. She wrapped her arms around her knees and listened to the cheers of students and teachers as the race ended.
Julie thought about her morning prayer. She thought about all of the times she had felt good during the day. She was glad the races had been fun. But she also felt sad that she hadn’t earned a ribbon.
Suddenly something surprising happened. Those good feelings started filling her heart again! It was like the Spirit was telling her that she should keep hoping for good things to happen. Julie smiled.
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Look what we got!” Evie squealed as she held up two ribbons. “One’s for you. Our team came in second in the relay!”
Julie rubbed the shiny satin between her fingers and looked at the gold letters gleaming in the sunlight. She said a silent prayer thanking Heavenly Father for helping her feel good throughout the day.
Then she jumped up. She couldn’t wait to tell Mom all about her feel-good field day!

I gave a copy of the Book of Mormon to Liz, who is not a member of the Church and is still searching for books to read. No, she hasn’t yet realized how to make the scriptures come alive in her life, but neither had I until I spent more time in them. My goal is to help her learn—like I did—that the scriptures can be fun and entertaining to read and that, best of all, they will bring her the happiness, the answers, and the closeness to God that I have experienced.

When I think of my father, I call him my father; but my two brothers and two sisters would remind me that he isn’t just my father, he is our father.
In thinking of my grandfather, if I were to claim him as mine alone, not only my brothers and sisters would remind me that grandfather is our grandfather, but my first cousins would join in the chorus to say, “He is our grandfather, as well.” If I were to mention my great-grandfather as mine, second cousins would add their voices and remind me that great-grandfather is ours.
It is apparent, then, that ours is a shared ancestry. We shouldn’t think back and say “mine, mine, mine”; we should say “ours, ours, ours.” The farther back we reach, the greater the chorus swells.

Rebecca Johnson, blonde and 17, checked off a long list. Everything was nearly ready for the seminary pageant in Cardston, Alberta, Canada: the sets, the props, the music, the costumes, the actors—well, almost all of the actors. Rebecca winced when she looked down at the cast list. Tracy Watson, who played the lead female role of Lucy Mack Smith, was sick. The pageant was scheduled to open the following night, and there wasn’t time for a replacement to learn Tracy’s part.
“When I walked in that night,” Tracy later explained, “Brother Wilcox took one look at me and asked what was wrong.
“I was really sick. I told him I felt weak, that I was drained. He asked if I was going to make it through the pageant. I just didn’t know.
“‘You might just have to find a new Lucy Mack,’ I said.”
Tracy paused in telling the story, her eyes moist.
“Then Brother Wilcox and another Melchizedek Priesthood holder gave me a blessing.
“During the blessing I had a good feeling come over me. It’s hard to explain. I didn’t feel weak anymore. I felt strong.”
The following night the pageant opened its first performance that year in the Cardston Second and Third wards’ cultural hall. After months of work, preparation, and study, the cast and crew of over 100 seminary students were ready, including Tracy.

When I was about four years old, my friends and I were playing hide-and-seek. Our neighbors’ gate swung open, and their bulldog started to chase me. I ran as fast as I could, but the dog was right behind me. I said a prayer in my head as I ran to my mom. When I got to my mom, the owners of the bulldog came and took the dog home. I know Heavenly Father helps us.

The Prophet Joseph Smith had received some instruction regarding the organization of the Church, which we have by way of revelation as set forth in section 20 of the Doctrine and Covenants. Imagine—on April the 6th, 1830, in Fayette, New York, in the Peter Whitmer farmhouse—a meeting in that little log cabin, maybe 20 by 30 feet, where the Church was organized. Just imagine in that little setting, where he blessed Oliver and Oliver blessed him, as they followed the direction that they had received and the Church organization was presented to that little assembly.
Joseph and Oliver and Hyrum and Samuel Smith and the two Whitmers had been baptized and acted in order to be “agreeable to the laws” of New York (D&C 20:1). But just imagine as you run through your mind the spiritual setting in that assembly and the feeling that they must have had as the proposition was presented to them to sustain—what we have done here today—to sustain the Prophet and Oliver as the first elders, to set the Church in motion. Some of the diaries and the accounts of that occasion indicate they had the feeling of heavenly beings in that meeting.
Some were rebaptized. Some were baptized on that occasion for the first time, including the Prophet’s father and mother—just imagine! The sacrament was served for the first time in this dispensation in an official meeting of the Church, now organized. Imagine the feeling of the passing of the bread and the water, emblems of the torn flesh and the spilt blood of the Savior.

Elder Richard Gordon Hinckley of the First Quorum of the Seventy says his feelings about his call as a member of the Seventy are not that different from how he felt as a shy deacon assigned to collect fast offerings or as a brand-new mission president.
“Collecting fast offerings was intimidating. But it was a great experience,” he says. “Being called as a mission president is something you just can’t totally prepare for. I felt like the boat was going to swamp for the first few months. But then it was wonderful.”

Instead of missionaries just coming to French Polynesia, now many young French Polynesians are serving missions. Take, for example, Alona Losamkieou. She left her lovely island of Raiatea in the Pacific and traveled to a far-off land—Salt Lake City—to teach the gospel to visitors on Temple Square. She is just one young French Polynesian missionary following the example set 150 years ago by those first missionaries to the Pacific. Missionary work has come full circle.

Great Britain has the world’s most regal (elegant) letter boxes. The tall cylinders stand like palace guards, their scarlet tunics emblazoned with a golden crown and the insignia of the queen. One such letter box stands sentry on Cottam Lane in Preston, in front of Ingol County Primary School. From time to time a pretty eight-year-old girl approaches and reaches high to drop in a letter addressed to Masha Melnikova in Mogilev, Belarus. The sender is Lorna Wilson, a Latter-day Saint, and Masha’s true friend.
Lorna’s father, Christopher, is a software designer who spends much of his spare time working for a charity called Medicine and Chernobyl. This organization provides medical aid for the Belarusian victims of a nuclear disaster in the nearby Ukrainian city of Chernobyl. Each year the charity brings a group of Belarusian children for a month-long visit to England. These children live downwind from Chernobyl, and their resistance to disease has been impaired. A month in a healthy environment helps them rebuild their physical and emotional reserves. Masha was one of these children.
Masha arrived at the Wilson home speaking almost no English. Lorna spoke even less Russian. Still, they managed to communicate with gestures and occasional help from a Russian phrase book. Within a day, somehow, they were best friends. Although Masha had her own room the first night, the two girls’ friendship blossomed so quickly that from the second night on, they chose to share a room. Lorna’s parents had to go in each night and persuade them to turn out the lights. They’d be talking away, drawing, and dressing dolls. Neither learned much of the other’s language, but they understood each other very well. On the morning Masha left to return home, Lorna was so upset that she couldn’t go to school.

“It is sometimes difficult for me in school. Yesterday, one of my friends offered me coffee. It was hard to say no, but I told my friend I am a member of the Church and that my body is a temple—I have to take care of my body.”—Miriam Mendoza