Gospel Story Finder

Marie and her husband, David, had been married many years and were respected members of their community. But then one day Marie learned, unbeknownst to David, that he had become involved in a relationship with another woman.
Marie came into my office, feeling a mix of anger, grief, and sadness. As she sobbed through her story, she knew she needed to tell David how she felt but not in an angry way, so that the Spirit would be with them.
After prayerful preparation, she told David she loved him but that she was devastated to learn of his relationship with another woman. They would need to meet with the bishop and consider the fate of their marriage. David didn’t want to lose his wife or his family. With help from the bishop, he began the process of repentance.
Marie knew there were things each of them would need to do to find healing individually and as a couple. Marie asked David to stay at his parents for a time while she sorted her feelings out. She spent time in the temple, asking the Lord for help. She remained in therapy, strengthening her communication skills and learning to set appropriate boundaries.
Together, Marie and David:
Read scriptures each night.
Prayed.
Shared the happenings of each day.
Had a date night once a week.
They communicated more openly. Marie said what she thought, and David listened. They began to talk with each other as they had when they were first married.
Marie reported that it wasn’t just David who changed; she changed also. She felt stronger and more confident in herself. David remained repentant and came home.
Including the Lord in their daily lives brought greater trust and love to their relationship. Both felt that the effort to overcome this challenge with the Lord’s help had strengthened them.

I used to keep all my money in my sock drawer. It was really simple to budget: when I ran out, well, I ran out. But managing my money from my dresser drawer forever just wasn’t realistic. I found that out when I got my first job and then again when I went away to college. My expenses seemed to skyrocket, and keeping track of my money was no longer an easy task. I wanted to be better at managing my money, but setting up a budget at that point appeared overwhelming. If only I had known how easy and important it is.

Barbara W. Winder, Relief Society general president, tells of a sister whose friend’s mother had passed away. Uncertain about how to help her grieving friend, the woman asked the Lord what she should do. The answer came: “Just go.”
Her arrival comforted her friend, and they prayed together. The grieving sister later said that she had indeed appreciated what her friend had brought—a needed peace. (General Conference, October 1984.)

I couldn’t help looking back. My feet were moving one way and my heart the other. Through my tears I could see Mama still standing on the porch. She was getting smaller with each step I took.
So many times I had asked her, “Must I be the one to go, Mama? I am only eleven years old. Are you sure I can do it all by myself?” And each time she reassured me. Yes, I was the one to go. And yes, this was Heavenly Father’s way for me to reach Zion. With Mama praying for me, I knew I shouldn’t doubt.
Mama wanted to go west with the Saints. She had no money for such a great undertaking, but she was a woman of faith and knew that her prayers would be answered.
Then Mama found a way for me to go. An elderly blind lady needed a companion to help her walk across the many, many miles of hazardous terrain to the mountains of Utah. So that is how I came to leave my mother and my family and cross the plains without them.
When I left, tears were streaming down my face. With all the courage I could muster, I clasped hands with the blind lady and walked away.
My eyes became her eyes. I guided her with my sight; she guided me with the wisdom of her years. Together we walked every step of the way through the dust and the dirt of the crude trails. After many long, tiring days and weeks and months, we made it!

Take for instance, Orson Hyde. Brother Hyde was a sales clerk in the village of Kirtland when he met Joseph Smith, the youthful prophet. It was to this unknown, unpromising young seller of buttons and thread and calico that Joseph, speaking in the name of the Lord, would say that he, Orson Hyde, was ordained “to proclaim the everlasting gospel, by the Spirit of the living God, from people to people, and from land to land, in the congregations of the wicked, in their synagogues, reasoning with and expounding all scriptures unto them.” (D&C 68:1.)

This young man, this clerk in a village store, under the inspiration of that prophetic call, walked two thousand miles on foot through Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Maine, and New York, “reasoning with and expounding all scriptures unto” all he met.

I recall being in Orson Hyde’s home in Nauvoo, the comfortable home he left to travel to England and Germany and to visit Constantinople, [now Istanbul], Cairo, and Alexandria en route to Jerusalem where on 24 October 1841, he stood on the Mount of Olives and dedicated by the authority of the holy priesthood the land of Palestine for the return of the Jews. That was a quarter of a century before Theodor Herzl [1860–1904] undertook the work of gathering the Jews to their homeland.

One rainy day, my beloved wife Elisa, our little daughter Beatriz, and I were in our car, merging onto a highway, when we saw a small and frail elderly woman walking on the side of the road. The heavy rain had soaked through her thin clothes. We were too fast to stop, but we just looked at one another and turned our car around as quickly as possible. When we came back to the woman, we stopped the car, and my sweet wife ran to help the poor woman while I called the police. We gave her a seat in our car, dried her off, and wrapped her in a warm blanket. We promised her protection and safety. We stayed with her until a police patrol arrived and, after making some inquiries, the officers took her into their care. They expressed their appreciation for what we had done for this good woman who had been walking with a sad face in a dangerous place.
When we continued our journey, we were grateful to the Lord for allowing us to be His hands and to share the care and kindness He bestows upon us daily with this lonely woman.

By noon the group was hiking toward another lake. The trail switched back and forth gently, dropping down the slopes. Sometimes a lower part of the trail would be only a few feet away.
“We thought it was crazy not to take a shortcut,” Mike Worthington said. Some tried it. Greg stopped everybody.
“Stay on the trail,” he advised. “You think you’re saving time, but you’re not. And if the trail erodes the wrong way, you ruin it for people who come after you.”
“The next lake has golden trout in it,” Greg announced. “If we hurry, we might be able to catch a few before dark.” Packs were repacked and lifted to shoulders again.
Even though they’d been warned once about shortcutting, some of the young men thought the route back to the main trail was too roundabout and tedious.
“It looked like we could just cut through the trees,” Clay Drake said. “But we got lost. It took two hours for us to get back together with the rest of the group, and they all had to wait while the guides went back to look for us. The next time a guide tells me what to do, I’ll listen to him.”
There are times, the Explorers and Scouts found out, when you have to trust someone else, times when your safety and well-being depend on it. The young men also learned a little bit about perseverance. They hiked more than five miles each of the four days they spent in the Wind Rivers. Every day it became easier and more enjoyable.

Mark helped his sister, Mattie, across the dirt and rubble in the street. The snow that had been white and sparkling earlier that morning on their way to school was now gray with the city’s soot.
As they walked home, Mark thought about his first day of school after the Christmas holiday. The teacher and children had taken down all the Christmas decorations, and the classroom had a clean new look that matched the clean new morning snow.
Maybe, Mark thought, when we get home, Mattie and I can work together and clean our house too.
He was about to tell Mattie his idea when almost at the same moment they saw a green tree limb sticking out of a pile of dirty snow.
They bent down to pick it up, but the limb was crusted over with ice. Twisting and turning together, they were finally able to loosen the ice and snow and pull out a Christmas tree that had been thrown away. Pieces of tinsel and ribbon clung to the brittle green needles, and here and there were small bits of bright paper.
“Do you think we could take it home?” Mattie asked.
“Sure!” answered Mark. “No one else would want it. And now we can have a Christmas tree—even if it is after Christmas!”
Together they dragged the tree to the corner of the street. They struggled up the three flights of stairs of the apartment building and into their living room.
Mark quickly cleared a space by the window and set the tree carefully on a small piece of rug. Then they both sat down in front of the tree and looked at it.
Father lay on the couch as usual. He lifted the paper he was reading to watch them. Mother came from the kitchen and stood in the doorway silently. Neither of them said anything.
Each afternoon Mattie and Mark hurried home from school to see their tree. Mattie cut her favorite bright red ribbon and tied small bows on the tree. Mark went through his box of treasures and found a few things that almost looked like Christmas ornaments. Both of them watched for bits of tinfoil and pieces of bright yarn or string to make their tree more beautiful.
In the long evenings as they sat before the tree, they softly sang carols they had learned in school. Neither Father nor Mother seemed to pay much attention. The children felt as if they were living in a different world, so they were surprised when one night Father started humming the songs with them.
That same night Mother came to the kitchen door and said, “Don’t make so much of that tree. After all, it was the Child who made Christmas, not just a tree.”
“Tell us about the Baby,” Mark and Mattie pleaded.
Mother took the old Bible from the round table, dusted it, and read to them. Night after night they asked for the story. And over and over again Mother read about the small Child in the manger and Mary and Joseph who were so careful and protecting.
“That star was something too,” Father said one night.
“Tell us again about the star,” Mark asked, and no one seemed to think it strange when Father began talking about the star that led the wisemen.
Once when Mother put the book back, she dusted and straightened the round table and swept the floor around the tree. The next night when she read, Mother had on a pretty pink apron.
When the snow began to melt, Mark and Mattie found many shiny bits for the tree, until its branches were filled with color and sparkle. Even though many of the needles on the tree had fallen off, the children noticed that Mother still kept the floor swept clean.
In honor of the tree, they thought.
Mark and Mattie just laughed when the children of the neighborhood called them scavengers. Nothing was too good for their tree!
They were so happy with this bit of beauty in their lives that at first they didn’t even notice their father no longer lay on the couch most of the time.
Then one warm afternoon in March, they came home to noise and confusion. Many people were gathered around their apartment. They heard an officer say to their mother, “I’ve been told that there is still a Christmas tree in your house. I’m afraid it’s dry as tinder and a real fire hazard. The tree must go!”
“But it’s so pretty,” said Mattie.
“Please, can’t we keep it?” Mark pleaded.
The officer sent the curious crowd away. Father came running in, looking excited. The officer closed the door to the apartment and sat down in front of the tree with Mark, Mattie, Father, and Mother.
“Why did you keep it so long after Christmas?” he asked.
Mark explained how they hadn’t had a real Christmas. But when he and Mattie found the tree and brought it home and decorated it, Christmas came at last. Mother told them the story of Christ’s birth, and Father sang songs with them.
Mattie looked as if she was about to cry.
“And now it will all be over,” Mark said, and there was an odd little catch in his voice.
“No,” said Mother quietly. “It’s just the beginning. The tree has been a miracle for us. Because of it, we have changed our ways. Now we can have beauty and happiness in our home without the tree.”
“And next Christmas,” said Father, “we’ll have a tree of our own. I got a job today.”
“You have more than a tree now,” said the officer. “And just so you can keep all you have, we’ll remove the fire hazard.”
After the tree was gone, Mark and Mattie looked at Father and Mother. There was something different about them.
Then they smiled at each other, for suddenly they understood that after all they didn’t really need the Christmas tree to be happy!

During the spring, my husband and I attended our four-year-old grandson’s soccer game. Excitement was in the air as children ran in every direction chasing the ball. When the final whistle blew, the players didn’t know who won or who lost. They had simply played the game.
The coaches asked the players to shake hands with the other team. Then we saw something quite remarkable. One coach called for a victory tunnel.
Parents, grandparents, and anybody who came to see the game stood up and formed two lines facing each other. Then they raised their arms and created an arch. The children squealed as they ran under the arms of the cheering adults and down the path.
Soon the children from the other team decided to join in the fun. All of the players were cheered on by the adults as they ran through the victory tunnel.
In my mind I could see another picture. I had the feeling I was seeing these children living the plan Heavenly Father created for every child. They were running on the strait and narrow path, under the arms of the people who loved them. Each child felt the joy of being on the path.
Jesus Christ has “marked the path and led the way” for each of us.* If we follow His lead, we will all return to our heavenly home and be safe in Heavenly Father’s arms.

Lohran sought to learn God’s will through fasting and prayer. That very week, he noticed the recently delivered issue of the New Era magazine in his home, and he began thumbing through it. He was attracted to the article “Ice Dreams,” about ice skater Chris Obzansky, who interrupted a promising skating career to serve a mission at age 19, losing the opportunity to compete in the 2006 Winter Olympics.
One passage in particular caught Lohran’s attention: as Chris was in sacrament meeting listening to his Young Men president talk about his own mission call, the Spirit told Chris, “You need to serve a mission when you’re 19, or you’re going to have a tough life.” Chris said, “The message was so clear I actually turned around to see if someone was there. The feeling came back 10 times stronger, and I knew I had to go on a mission.”1
Lohran smiles. “When I read that, I felt it had been written for me. Age 19 is the age prescribed by the Lord. I realized that was the answer I needed, and it was like an enormous weight was taken off my back.” The time for Lohran to serve a mission was now. He talked to his bishop, made the necessary preparations, and never looked back. “It was not even difficult to make the decision of leaving soccer behind,” he says, “for I knew it was the right time to do it.”
Lohran served in his country’s capital, in the Brazil Brasília Mission. He was known as “Elder Happy” because of his contagious enthusiasm. “I am exceptionally happy serving people, sharing with them what I know is true,” he says. “It is so gratifying to see people change their lives after learning the gospel.”
Like all missionaries, though, he experienced his share of hardships. “Obviously, missionary life is not all fun,” he says. “There are difficulties, moments of weakness and loneliness, but all that is next to nothing compared to the treasures of a mission. These are years I’ll never forget, that I’ll always have in my mind and, more important, my heart.”
A few months ago he finished serving a successful mission. Now that he’s home, he has joined a soccer team in Rio de Janiero and believes more chances to continue his soccer career will come his way. With faith he says, “I am now waiting for the opportunities to come, opportunities that our Heavenly Father will bless me to enjoy.”

That evening we realize my husband is almost out of pain medication. It’s Friday. Jacob has spent the afternoon shaking under a mound of blankets. If he runs out of medication over the weekend, what will we do?

By the time I figure out the right doctor to call (the doctor we had already seen that day), it’s almost 5:00 p.m. A medical assistant answers. He checks with the doctor and tells me, “If you can be here in 30 minutes, I’ll get you the prescription. Here’s my number. Call it when you get here. The doors may be locked.”

I herd our three-year-old daughter to the car, leaving Jacob in the bed and our 10-year-old son with a video game. We drive 25 more miles. The medical assistant gives me the prescription and talks me through the chemo symptoms. I know he must have waited for me.

It’s almost dinner time. I haven’t made any food. I still need to fill the prescription. My daughter is hungry and tired. But out over the valley, the sun breaks through the overcast sky, and a ray of light runs in a straight line to the place I’m headed for. I say a prayer of gratitude for the medical assistant who waited for me.

The woman who rings up the prescription remembers me. Another pharmacist gives my daughter a free sucker. I get a text message from my husband. Someone from the ward has brought us dinner.

I almost start crying. Not because I can’t do it anymore but because the assistant waited. Because dinner is at home. And because two pharmacists took time for me and my daughter. The fog and rain have lifted enough for me to see again. I know we are going to be all right. We’re being carried in the hands of the Lord.

For a Personal Progress goal, I started praying to have a missionary experience. I tried to figure out which of my friends would be most willing to join the Church.
Months passed, and I thought I wouldn’t have the experience that I sought—until I met Brenda. It was her first year at our school.
As the year progressed, we became close schoolmates, but it didn’t occur to me to invite her to church until one of our friends invited Brenda to her church. I thought, “I don’t believe it! I should’ve thought of that.”
The next week Brenda said she enjoyed going to our friend’s church and wanted to go again. I thought, “I’ve lost out.” Not that it was a competition, but I wanted to take the gospel to Heavenly Father’s children.
At that time our meetinghouse was being renovated and was scheduled to be rededicated in a few months. The bishop handed out invitations for an open house and the dedication. I invited all my friends who lived near the meetinghouse. The only one who accepted was Brenda. I was excited.
A few days before the open house, Brenda said she might not be able to go because her mother didn’t want her to. I was disappointed, but I understood and told her there would be other opportunities to learn about the Church.
At the open house, however, I was surprised to see Brenda there. She had talked to her mother, who ended up letting her go. I introduced her to the missionaries. We went to each room in the meetinghouse and heard a brief description of each Church organization. Finally, we went to the cultural hall and picked up pamphlets about the Restoration, family history, eternal marriage, and other gospel topics. Brenda said, “I believe in this!”
On Sunday she attended church. On Monday she attended a Mormon Helping Hands service project.
The seed that was planted in Brenda’s heart grew with each passing day. She started changing her habits to conform with the commandments and was soon baptized.
Now, a few years later, she still tells me how happy she is to have found the true gospel and how grateful she is that I helped her find it.

One important rule my family had as I was growing up on a homestead in Clinton, Utah, was that you had to get your work done before you could play. As a young boy, I delighted in going to the Saturday matinees to see the cowboy movies. But Saturday was also the day we did the major cleaning of the barn, the corrals, the chicken coop, and the other animal stalls. I soon learned that if I didn’t do my share of the work, I wouldn’t be allowed to go to the movies. There are always consequences for doing or not doing what we should.

Thank you so much for the article called “What Does It Mean to Be Perfect?” (Jan. 2006). Lately, I have been unhappy with who I am and what I am achieving. I didn’t realize this was due to my perfectionist personality. As I read this article I knew that the Lord was watching out for me and blessing me. I am now learning how to deal with this perfectionism. Whenever I lose heart, I read this article again. I now know that I don’t have to be perfect immediately, but it is a process. Thank you for printing this article.Name withheld

Some young college students learned it when, as Relief Society members, they visited weekly with sisters in a local nursing home. The first weeks found many of the women in a resigned, even lethargic state. For the most part they had given up trying to do anything with their lives; they were simply waiting them out. But the girls continued to visit, some bringing short musical programs, others reading or helping them write letters. Gradually the women began to look forward to the weekly visits, and then, some of the vitality of these young Relief Society sisters carried on through the week. The girls nurtured every spark of interest. When they found that many of the women had been quilters, they got the necessary equipment for them and set it up. The women quickly finished one exciting quilt and were ready to start a second. A few chose to do other projects the students brought. The story continues to be one of activity and vitality. These young students brought new life and love; they were “mother” to the elderly sisters.

“Mommy,” Marla called, frowning, “I’m hungry!”
“Lunch isn’t ready yet, but while you wait, you can play a game,” said Mother.
Marla’s frown vanished. “OK!”
Mother picked up a ball of string, opened the back door, and said, “Follow me.”
Marla skipped along beside her mother. The sun danced on Mother’s hair as they made a big circle with the string in the yard.
“Inside this circle,” Mother explained, “are many wonders of God’s world. While I’m fixing lunch, I want you to count them.”
Marla’s smile faded. “All I see is grass.”
“Look carefully. Not all of God’s wonders are big,” Mother explained.
Marla squatted inside the circle. She spied a purple violet blooming.
Next, she discovered an acorn missed by the squirrels. The brown shell had cracked open, and a sprout was curling out of it. Marla gazed at the tall, leafy branches above her. Will this little sprout grow that big? she wondered.
Nearby an earthworm poked its way through the earth, seeming to wave hello.
Her eyes now saw tiny ants zigzagging through their grass jungle.
When Mother returned, Marla proudly shared her discoveries with her.
“What a good detective you are,” Mother praised her. “But I see one of God’s wonders that you missed—a very large one, compared to all these others.”
“Where? Where?” Marla asked, looking around.
“Why, you, of course!” Mother told her. “You’re the most special of God’s wonders in that circle to me.”

Illustrations by Maryn Roos
Here’s the new Friend maga …
… zine.
Hey, I’ll bet my friend Franco would love this magazine. I could give it to him when we’re finished reading it.
I think Audrey would love it too. I want to give it to her.
Mommm!
Relax kids. I’ll buy another copy. In the meantime, find a fair way to decide who gets this one.
I guess the question is, who wants it more? I want it so much that I would be willing to …
… let me paint your fingernails?
Ewwww!
Do you want it badly enough that you would wear my stinky old sneakers to school for a day?
I’m afraid they’d set off the fire alarm.
Hey, Audrey. Here’s a copy of my favorite magazine. I thought you might like it.
Thanks, Mandy. Um, what happened to the cute shoes you usually wear?

One of the great spiritual events in our family occurred in the life of our youngest daughter, Barbara, who was born with a defective heart. Then five months after she was born, she had heart failure and was taken to the hospital. Because she had a very serious type of heart ailment, the doctors had given up on her. Our bishop and I administered to her.
After that blessing, I had a total peace about her. Even though Barbara became very ill with pneumonia and went into a relapse, I knew that she was going to be all right.
She was in the hospital almost three months. At that time, although she was recovering from her problems, I could see that she was losing her will to live, and I was prompted to take her home, even though her doctor was very much against it. When we got home and laid her on the couch and the children all gathered around her, Barbara broke into a smile, her first in months. Taking care of this critically ill baby was a great concern to my wife, so this good doctor came to our home about every two days and checked her.
There have been very few cases of children with this type of defect who have lived into their teens. Barbara was blessed with amazing health, even though her heart wasn’t functioning normally. She took piano and swimming lessons, enjoyed limited activity in sports, and attended college. She actually had fewer health problems than the rest of the family, and she is now twenty-nine years old. There is no doubt in my mind that this resulted from our faith in the Lord and in the power of the priesthood and from following the promptings of the Spirit.

From journal entry #222, dated August 1, 1978, addressed to "Whomever," Elder Lively wrote, “I must be the most happiest missionary in the mission. Tonight, the Romo family accepted baptism for August 12th. Yahooo! Every time we challenge a family, I get a tingling feeling all over my body, just like I used to before the beginning of a basketball game. Boy, I know that my Heavenly Father is looking after us because he has blessed us with such great families. I love my mission so much not only now because things are going so good but also when the times were rough and hard.” We talked to the Romo family about fasting to find out if the message being taught is true, and they said—sure, no problem, we will do it. Everyone is very excited about the whole thing.” Until tomorrow!
The missionaries dared to extend the invitation to fast and pray because they were not afraid that they would lose a golden family if the family didn’t accept it; instead, they were fearful that the family wouldn’t receive the blessings and power that God had in store for them. Elder Lively added journal entry #238, “To whomever, August 26, 1978, Saturday, the Romo’s baptism was just great. Everything went smoothly, just like it was supposed to.”

All afternoon the children had filled the house with happy sounds of play and laughter. But toward evening, when Joseph Smith came with news that some wicked men had gathered into a mob and were looking for him to do him harm, a feeling of worry and fear settled over everyone.
A few minutes later some friends of “Brother Joseph” also came to the house and offered to help him escape or to stay all night and act as guards against the mob.
Instead of the lighthearted play of the afternoon, the children’s thoughts were now heavy with concern. They loved Brother Joseph. He always had a smile and a pleasant word for them, and never seemed in too much of a hurry to stop and talk with them as he walked about the streets of Kirtland, Ohio.
As the adults discussed how the Prophet could be protected, the children went with their playmates to Mother’s bedroom to talk about how they might be able to help their beloved friend.
The oldest boy was just ten and the youngest child only four years old. In solemn whispers they made their suggestions, but no one had any solution until a seven-year-old girl quietly said, “I know what we can do. We can pray and ask our Father in heaven to keep Brother Joseph safe from harm.”
At that very moment Mother passed by the partly opened door and overheard the suggestion. She hurried to the room where the men were talking and whispered something to the Prophet Joseph. He excused himself and went with her, and they arrived at the bedroom door just in time to see the children kneeling together and to hear their simple prayer for his safety.
Tears filled his eyes and then rolled down his cheeks. And as the children arose from their knees by the bedside, he heard one of them say, “I know Brother Joseph will be safe now. The wicked men can’t hurt him at all.” And he saw the other children nod in agreement.
He wiped his eyes and returned to the room where the men were still discussing his safety. Joseph Smith thanked them but assured them they need have no fear for his safety. He urged them to go to their own homes and rest, saying he no longer needed to worry about escape or about being guarded throughout the night, for he knew that the prayers of the children had been heard.
Everyone rested in peace that night and the next morning the thankful children had breakfast with their beloved Prophet Joseph Smith.