Gospel Story Finder

I asked the Church’s records department to tell me how many college-age youth we have in the Church. They responded, “1,974,001.”
“Good,” I thought. “I will speak to the one.”

On Monday, Mommy washed the clothes.
I helped her fold the socks.
On Tuesday, Daddy dug a hole.
I helped him carry rocks!
Wednesday night I helped my sister
Put away the dishes.
On Thursday, brother had a chore.
I helped him feed his fishes!
Friday after school was out,
We raked up all the leaves.
On Saturday, Dad washed the car.
I helped him find his keys!
Sunday is the Sabbath day.
We rest from all our chores.
But I’ll be ready Monday,
So I can help some more!

A few weeks ago, I asked my 86-year-old mother to join me in working on the virtue value. It has been a sweet blessing for both of us. As we’ve worked on the value experiences, she’s shared with me her decision as a young woman in the 1930s to strive to live more virtuously. We’ve studied scriptures on virtue, “The Family: A Proclamation to the World,” and even For the Strength of Youth—together. We’ve independently written in our journals the blessings we’ve received as we have strived to live a virtuous life. One key blessing we both identified was being worthy to go to the temple. Young women, this is your next step.

As a teenager, however, I started falling away after I moved to a new ward. I attended youth activities most weeks, but I kept to myself and didn’t participate much. I didn’t enjoy church on Sunday, but I attended off and on. I realized that I was not really converted to the gospel and its teachings. I didn’t have a testimony of my own.
As usual during one fast and testimony meeting, my mind wandered. I wasn’t really listening as ward members bore their testimonies, but I said amen at the end of each one. Then a sister went up to the pulpit and started bearing her testimony. When she mentioned cake, I looked up and started paying attention.
“I always speak to Heavenly Father, even when I’m baking a cake,” she said. “I say a little prayer that the cake will rise and come out well. I know He answers our prayers.”
I didn’t think much about that testimony until our car wouldn’t start when we needed to go to the store to get some food. At that moment I remembered the words of the sister. So, I went back to my bedroom to ask God to help us so that the car would start. I knelt and prayed. When I finished, I took the car keys and put them in the ignition. And then came the answer to my prayer—the sound of the car starting.
Because of that answer to a simple prayer, I went from almost falling away to continuing on a path that has helped me gain a personal testimony and become fully converted to the gospel. The words to my favorite Primary song, “I Feel My Savior’s Love,”1 became more than just words of a song. They became feelings that I really have.
I pray about everything now. And though the answer or the timing isn’t always what I desire, I still choose to hear Him as I remember Nephi’s words: “But behold, I say unto you that ye must pray always, and not faint” (2 Nephi 32:9).

A crafted red and pink paper heart frame holds a picture of the entire family dressed in white. In April 1993, the Richards family was sealed in the St. George temple. It was Mom and Dad’s tenth wedding anniversary. “It made for a special day,” Mom said. Emily says she remembers that everything in the temple was white and that she felt nice inside. “The children didn’t want to leave,” Mom said. They loved the beautiful chandeliers and the pictures of Jesus Christ inside the temple.
The family had driven for five days to get to St. George. Why did they travel so far to be sealed? On a previous vacation they had driven into St. George, and the city was covered with a thick layer of gray fog. They couldn’t see anything except the white glow of the temple. This experience made them want to return to St. George to be sealed there.
They stopped at four other temples on that trip. “Each time we visited a temple grounds, we felt a family togetherness,” Mom said. On the way home, they stopped and ate at a hotel. The hotel employees were so impressed with the children’s polite behavior and kind manner that they gave the entire family free dessert.

Ten years ago when Vanessa’s mom and dad, Linda and Doug, wanted their little girl to learn to play a musical instrument, they couldn’t afford a piano. “So we bought a small sized violin,” Linda said. Vanessa started taking lessons in the Suzuki method. She was making great progress and in a few years had moved up to a larger violin while her sister Joanna started learning on the smaller one.

I recently saw printed on a young man’s worn T-shirt a slogan from a bygone youth conference. It read, “Yagottawanna.” I jokingly guessed it might be an ancient Indian word, but I asked him to explain it to me. He gave me that “you gotta be kiddin’” look, but condescended to answer anyway. “‘Yagottawanna,’” he said, “means that you have to want to do something before you will do it.” Of course I knew that all along, but it was good to hear him say it.

The following is an account of a young girl who grew up in a small rural community with limited educational opportunities. The first day of her senior year she found herself without friends, entering the high school in what seemed to her to be a big city. Having lost her way and arriving late, her anxiety was only intensified after she quickly observed that she not only didn’t know her way around, but a glance downward told her that her clothing was different, and she felt different in a most uncomfortable way.

It was at the close of that day, and the following morning, and each day thereafter that she poured out the yearnings of her heart to her Father in heaven, pleading for the ability to be the kind of a person worthy of friends—lots of friends, boyfriends and girl friends—and making a promise to endeavor to keep all of the commandments in return.

Days and weeks went by. Fall gave way to winter, and while friendships were forming through her sincere respect extended to each student, still there was a need unfulfilled. Then one Sunday afternoon what seemed like an answer to her prayer came. The telephone rang and the voice of one of the special boys at school enthusiastically extended an invitation to her to attend the Sunday movie. Oh, the yearning, the prayers, the promises, the excitement, the conflict, and now the decision. Could this be an answer to her prayers—a Sunday movie? The decision was quickly but painfully made; the invitation was declined, the response cheerful but final. Oh, the torment. Would he ever call again?

A young girl poured out the yearnings of her heart to her Father in heaven, obeyed his commandments, and trusted in the outcome. That particular young man never called again, but in due time her prayers were answered with many friends, boyfriends and girl friends, and as that school year drew to a close, she was nominated by the studentbody to receive a special award for friendliness. Many lessons had been learned that year, but the lesson of greatest importance she expressed in these words:
“Our Father in heaven loves us.
He knows how we feel.
He listens to the yearnings of our heart.
He strengthens us when we’re discouraged.
And he rewards us—in due time.”

The third reason on the list was: Dad.
It was just over a year since his father had ordained him a priest. He still remembered part of the ordination. “Always remember the priesthood isn’t like clothing you can take off when you enter a room. The priesthood goes wherever you go. Don’t take it into places or situations where it doesn’t belong.”

My legs felt like gelatin and there was a knot in my stomach as we approached the door. I was sure that I was going to faint as my companion told me that this was my door.
No, I wasn’t a new missionary. I was a 15-year-old home teacher climbing the stairs to the apartment of Sister Rice, a widow living in the Bountiful (Utah) First Ward. Don Gabbott, my companion, was to teach me a great lesson that night about the nurturing role of priesthood bearers to shut-ins who are cut off from the mainstream of Church activity.
Brother Gabbott had given me a topic to present to the five families assigned us, and I was frightened. Inexperienced, I was prepared with some notes on a paper, but I was unsure of how to take the lead in the presence of a high priest.
The response to our knocking was slow in coming. Even though we could see through the storm door window, I was about to suggest that no one was home. Then the shrunken figure of a frail, aged sister, came around a corner in the hallway. She seemed uncertain of what waited her answer at the door. Her face brightened as she recognized Brother Gabbott. We were invited into her living room and asked to take a seat.
After a short greeting, Brother Gabbott looked at me as if to say, “Okay, Bob, it’s time to give our message.” The knot in my stomach tightened as I began to speak. I cannot recall what I said—it doesn’t really matter—for I was the pupil in the classroom of priesthood duty and responsibility. As I glanced up from my notes at the conclusion of my remarks, my eyes fell upon the tear-stained cheeks of that sweet, sensitive sister. She expressed her gratitude for the presence of priesthood bearers in her humble home.
I was speechless. What had I done? What had I said that had been so profound? What could I do? Fortunately, Brother Gabbott came to my rescue by bearing his testimony and asking if there were any needs in the home. There were.
Sister Rice said that she had not been feeling well and asked that she be remembered as we offered our prayer before leaving. She then turned to me and asked if I would offer that prayer. By that time, I was so overcome by the spirit of the occasion that the request numbed me. I was surprised that I was asked to pray when someone older and more experienced and trusted was present. Automatically, I consented and offered a benediction upon that home teaching visit, asking that a special blessing of health and strength be given to that faithful sister whom I barely knew but quickly came to love and respect.
Twenty-five years have passed since my introduction to home teaching in the home of Sister Rice, and she has long since passed away. But I cannot pass that orange-brick fourplex on Bountiful’s Main Street without thinking about the experience provided by Brother Gabbott and a faithful sister who knew the appropriateness of calling upon the powers of heaven embodied in an obedient high priest and an insecure, frightened teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood.

My freshman year at Brigham Young University was lonely, and as the time passed, it did not get any better. My roommate was very popular, especially with the girls, and that just made things worse. One night, I had had enough. I needed to find out if anyone cared. So I left and went to a place where I knew I could find out. I went to a little spot just above the Provo Temple. It was sunset and the lights of the temple and the city were just beginning to come on. I found myself deep in prayer. I fervently asked my Father in Heaven to let me know that he cared, that he loved me, and that I was his son. The answer I received is one that I will never forget. His Spirit touched mine and let me know that he loved me. He encircled me about in his arms of love, and touched me with his spiritual hands.

And the Lord allows all of us, including Joseph Smith, to make mistakes. We are His children, and like any wise parent, He is invested in our growth and wants us to learn through experience.
The Lord allowed Joseph Smith to give the first 116 pages of the Book of Mormon translation to Martin Harris even though the Lord knew they would be lost. This experience was painful for Joseph, but he learned to become a more careful steward. He received forgiveness and was “again called to the work” (Doctrine and Covenants 3:10).
The Lord is invested in our growth and wants us to learn through experience.

We have met many other consecrated Church members who exemplify dedication and faithfulness. Some time ago a group of Saints from Punta Arenas, Chile, went to the Santiago Chile Temple. This trip requires some 80 hours by bus and often uses up the only vacation time people have during the year. One member of the group was a woman named Hermana Álvarez, who is less than four feet (1.2 m) tall and has difficulty walking. She carried with her some 27 family names for whom she wanted to do the vicarious work. What a thrill it was to be able to help her fulfill her worthy dream and to realize the extent to which so many Saints dedicate themselves to living and defending the principles of the gospel as a reflection of the law of consecration.

Nearly a hundred young women and men in the Toa Baja Puerto Rico District sang as they pulled their handcarts up and over the steep hills of Monagas Park in the morning sunshine one day in March. Reenacting the trek of the Latter-day Saint handcart pioneers, the youth sang first in Spanish—“Como os he amado, amad a otros”—and then in English—“As I have loved you, love one another” (Hymns, number 308).
Stopping along the way in small groups at predetermined spots, the youth read of the experiences of Latter-day Saint pioneers. Several were weeping by the time they finished. The group moved on, singing, “¡Grande eres tú!”—“How great thou art!” (Hymns, number 86).
“We want our seminary students to realize that our sacrifices, no matter how great, are little compared to those of the pioneers,” says Alberto Zayas, associate CES director for the Caribbean. “Seminary helps our youth develop testimonies, so every branch on this island has a class, and two universities each have a Latter-day Saint Student Association.”

When I told my basketball team I wouldn’t play on Sundays, they weren’t happy. At one weekend tournament, the last game would be on a Sunday. Because I play left-handed, my coach said they needed me to guard the other team’s “lefty.” I felt a lot of pressure. I wanted to keep the Sabbath day holy, but I didn’t want to let my friends down.
The day before the game, I read the For the Strength of Youth standards for Sabbath day observance with my dad. It talked about how Sunday should be treated as a sacred day, where you refrain from things like athletic events. There was also a promise that when you keep the Sabbath day holy, you gain spiritual strength. I prayed for help to keep the Sabbath day holy.
Even though it was hard, I chose to go to church with my family. That Sunday, we were visiting another ward in our stake for sacrament meeting. As I sat in the chapel, I was anxious because I wasn’t at the game helping my team.
Then the deacon passing the sacrament handed me the tray with his left hand. I looked up and realized he was the “lefty” I was supposed to guard at the game. Just like me, he had chosen to go to church instead of playing basketball. I felt a calm assurance from the Spirit.
I wasn’t worried about the game anymore. I realized that Heavenly Father knows us. He’ll help us with difficult decisions when we keep His commandments.
Noah J., North Dakota, USA

There are times when we are growing up when we feel alone or left out. Times of change are growing-up times: things like moving, changing schools, going on a mission, having a baby, having your baby go on a mission, a serious illness, losing someone you love. I believe that there are some things that help in these growing-up times so we don’t feel so alone. Spend more time talking to Heavenly Father and reading the scriptures. Listen to the still, small voice. In the words of a young woman of Beehive age: “At first when I would say my prayers and read scriptures, I would never get a good feeling about it. But after about two months of my scriptures and prayer, I began to feel very happy, and I loved my family, and I felt like being nice to everyone.”

But even on a winning team, there are lessons to be learned about defeat. Angie Harris, the team center, hyperextended her knee during the second quarter of the first game of the record-breaking season, and was sidelined for the rest of the year. At least two surgeries have been necessary to get her back on her feet, and she’ll probably never play school ball again. Many players might be bitter over this, but not Angie. She reads the scriptures faithfully every day, and from them she’s learned that “the Lord isn’t going to give you challenges that you can’t handle. This injury wasn’t that bad. I played on the state championship team last year. This keeps it from going to my head.”

Brooke F., age 7, Washington, USA, liked drawing the different speakers as they spoke during conference. It helped her listen to the talks as she kept her fingers busy.

When the news of the awful crime reached Nauvoo, the citizens were overcome with grief and horror. Such sorrow had not been known in Nauvoo before. The warm summer sun left them cold and chill. Their prophet and their patriarch were dead. What else mattered?
When the wagons carrying the bodies were still a long way off, the entire population of Nauvoo went out to meet them. No greater tribute could be paid than was paid that day to Joseph and Hyrum Smith. Such universal love from those who knew them best could never have been won by selfish and designing men. Only love begets love. Once when Joseph had been asked how he had acquired so many followers and retained them, he replied, “It is because I possess the principle of love. All I can offer the world is a good heart and a good hand” (History of the Church, 5:498).

As children, we learned how to keep darkness away by turning on a light. Sometimes, when our parents went away for the evening, we would turn on every light in the house! We understood the physical law that is also a spiritual law: light and darkness cannot occupy the same space at the same time.