Gospel Story Finder

In October 2011, while serving a full-time mission in South Africa, I received a phone call from Sister Catherine Wood, our mission president’s wife. All merry and bright, she told me that President Thomas S. Monson had just announced the construction of a temple in my home town, Kinshasa. I remember shouting—with joy with tears flowing down my cheeks—in gratitude to the Most High for the blessing of having a temple in my country.

Lesson two is that we can endure challenges with patience. I worked hard during my undergraduate career to prepare for admission to graduate school. I kept my grades up, worked on research projects with professors, took a GRE prep class, and, like all of you, contributed in campus and community service projects. I carefully selected the graduate schools I would apply to and ensured my applications were complete and submitted early.

After months of waiting for each school to notify me of its admissions decision, I received a rejection letter, then another, and then another until every graduate school had respectfully denied me admission. With help and advice from professors in my department, I submitted a late application to one more graduate school. I was promptly admitted, and, from my present perspective, I am confident that I am going where I am supposed to go.

Despite the rain on an October day, 1,601 Latter-day Saints from five stakes in Córdoba, Argentina, donated a combined 10,234 hours of service at a nursing home. Members delivered previously collected clothing, food, and hygiene kits. They also gardened, painted walls and benches, and performed talent shows. A number of sisters also volunteered hair, foot, and hand care services.
“I know that project was a help not only for them but for me too,” said 14-year-old Rocío B. after the project. “I knew I was doing the right thing and that Heavenly Father was pleased with me.”

Elder Scott remembers an incident in his youth that reinforced the importance of staying true to his beliefs. As a teenager, he worked on an oyster boat, earning money for college. The crew was rough and suspicious of this young man who refused to join them in living it up on shore. One night, he was roughly awakened by a drunken crew member who said a man had fallen overboard. “Scotty,” as he was called then, was the only one in condition to save the man. Quick action averted a tragedy.
Elder Scott said of the lesson he learned that night, “Publicly the crew members ridiculed me, but privately they respected me for my standards.”

“Daddy,” Kelly said, “Will you help me say a prayer?”
“Of course, I will,” Daddy said. “Do you remember how to start a prayer?”
“Yes,” said Kelly. “‘Dear Heavenly Father.’ Is that right?”
“That’s right,” Daddy told her. “Now, what comes next?”
“We thank Him for our blessings.”
“Right again!” Daddy said. “Then what?”
“We ask Him for the things that we need.”
“And how should we end our prayer?” Daddy asked.
“‘In the name of Jesus Christ, amen!’ “ Kelly said excitedly. “I remembered all by myself!”
“Yes, you did,” Daddy agreed. “Do you know what things you want to thank Heavenly Father for?”
“I’m thankful for you and Mommy, and Tony and Kimmy, and Grandma and Grandpa. And I’m thankful for my friends to play with.”
“Do you know what you want to ask Heavenly Father for?” Daddy asked.
“To help me to be safe when I’m playing, to be nicer to Tony and Kimmy, to not get angry, and to remember to pick up my toys.”
“I’ll be glad to help you pray, Kelly,” Daddy said, “but it sounds like you can do it all by yourself.”
Kelly smiled at Daddy. “Yes, I can! But will you pray with me, Daddy?”
“I’d be honored to,” he said.

One of the most challenging things I’ve ever overcome was my “I don’t care” attitude. If I wasn’t passionate about what I was doing, I was cold and impatient with people.

This all changed one school break when I was asked to care for my 76-year-old grandfather. “Dadi,” as we called him, had suffered a stroke, which left him half-paralyzed. When my family asked me to care for him for two months, I couldn’t even imagine how!

I had to wake up early to prepare his breakfast, his bath, and his medicine. I helped him walk around for his daily exercise. Since he had difficulty moving, I was by his side at all times, including during his bath and his toilet. As an 18-year-old girl, this was the hardest part.

Aside from all this, he was difficult to be with. He is not a member of the Church and has different principles than I do. He was a man full of regrets—always shouting, never smiling, and constantly saying, “I’m dying!” Because of this attitude, it was hard for us to share a good bond.

At first, I did all I could to avoid my tasks, but that didn’t work. So I decided to change my attitude and give my best effort.

After a week of this new attitude, serving Dadi became a joy to me. My patience grew, and I came to understand his affliction. As I served him, I stopped thinking of being with him as a burden but rather as an opportunity to create good times with him.

Dadi changed too. This frowning old man became a smiling, gentle grandpa. He even came to like listening to Especially for Youth songs!

One night I heard him making some noise, so I looked into his room to find out what he was doing. He was praying for the first time. I’m inspired every day by this change.

Now I’m back at college, but I still go twice a month to visit Dadi with my family. We eat with him and sing for him. His health has worsened, so now the most powerful help that I can give is prayers on his behalf.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to watch over Dadi because it helped me see what I’m capable of giving. Love is a very powerful thing—it softened both my heart and Dadi’s. I have learned the meaning of sacrifice and compassion. Truly, charity enlightens every heart!

True worship is a deeply satisfying experience. Some years ago I went hiking in the Catskill Mountains with some young people to pick huckle. On this mountain there was a spring near the berry patch, so we didn’t carry any water with us. When we arrived at the spot, we found lots of big berries, but we couldn’t find the spring. After a while our thirst became almost unbearable. We quickly picked our pails full and made the long descent down the mountainside. Near the place where we had parked our car there was a crystal-clear spring of cold water. We stretched out on the grass and drank. I will never forget the intensity of my thirst and how deeply satisfying it was to drink from that spring. Worship can be like this to the true believer in Christ. The Savior told a woman in Samaria who had come to a well to draw water, “… whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst.” (John 4:14.)

Final thought: There was a young professional woman whose office reported to the Foreign Ministry, or the U.S. State Department equivalent, who attended BYU-Hawaii in 2002. Her name was Lu Lu. At the conclusion of her studies here I inquired with her what she gained the most from her studies.

She replied, "I have thoroughly enjoyed my studies here, because of the students and faculty. I have never met a more giving and loving people. My studies were excellent, the teachers so nice and thoughtful. I am very sad I am leaving this wonderful campus."

When I inquired even more, she said, "Yes, there is on more thing: When I first came to BYUH my goals and objectives were set, I was focused (because her leader was expecting a lot upon here return to China). For me my professional role was more important than family."

"But, something happened here to my surprise, I could not get over the genuine love and kindness of the people here." It bothered her to the point she and others thought this was a coordinated effort or staged by the Mormon people to show this kind of kindness.

"For the first few months I pushed hard on my studies, while at the same time students and faculty were inviting me to come to their homes and church. My feelings were changing on one item, FAMILIES! I observed how the members around here place their families above their profession, and yet did not see their ability to conduct their business fazed."

"One day while speaking with my husband [on the telephone] at the end of my conversation I found myself saying, 'I love you!' He did not say anything and we continued to talk. The following weeks as I spoke to my husband I would always close with 'I love you!' but it was as before. He would say nothing!

"As the months rolled forward here at BYUH, I again said to my husband, 'I love you!' and, again he spoke as before without recognition of my affection. I said in a loud voice, 'didn't you hear what I said?' There was a long pause. He said, 'I know I have heard it over and over again. What are they teaching over there?'"

"Somewhat shocked, I replied, 'What do you mean?' 'I mean if that is what you are learning there, I want to come to BYU Hawaii.'"

Since leaving BYU Hawaii I continue to communicate by email. She sent me an email indicating she loves her work but now there is one item which has brought much fulfillment to her and her husband: She is called, Kitty.

I have found that when I get on my knees and pray, I am comforted and I feel Heavenly Father’s overwhelming love for me. An experience I had recently with prayer helped me know with a surety that He answers our prayers.
I had been having a very difficult day, and when I got home from school I immediately went to my knees and asked Heavenly Father to help me know that I was loved. Right after I said, “Amen,” my older sister came into my room and told me she loved me. I was overcome with the Spirit, and this experience definitely added to my testimony of prayer. I pray every day—and try to keep a prayer in my heart.
Shannon Watson, age 17,Highland 20th Ward, Highland Utah East Stake

Urging us to press on to higher and better things, our own President Spencer W. Kimball, in the concluding speech of the last conference, said, “We have paused on some plateaus long enough. Let us resume our journey, onward and upward. . . . We have been diverted at times from fundamentals on which we must now focus in order to move forward as a person or as a people.” (Spencer W. Kimball, “Let Us Move Forward and Upward,” Ensign, May 1979, p. 82.) And one of the fundamentals that President Kimball is presently emphasizing is the full utilization of our time.
I recall an incident concerning our prophet that highlights this fundamental. Early in the morning several years ago, during an area conference in Amsterdam, I was waiting for an elevator. When it arrived and its door opened, to my surprise there stood President Kimball. In his usual warm and friendly way he said, “Step in and join me.” We rode only to the next floor together, but in that short time of about thirty seconds he gave me enough challenges and assignments pertaining to our missionary labors in Europe to fully occupy my time for years to come. Since then, I have often wondered what the assignments and challenges might have been had we ridden another floor together.

A few years ago our teenage daughter was feeling quite unsettled, asking some very honest questions, such as “Why is life so hard?” As we talked over dinner one night, I prayed like a missionary for the right things to say. After all, our children are our most important investigators. In the very moment, I received a prompting about “gravitational pull.” I grabbed a paper napkin and drew a sketch I’d never thought of before. It sparked a lively discussion. I felt so close to her that night. She is the child of our covenant, and I want to be with her always.

Eighteen-year-old Randy Jasper has turned a hobby into a profitable business. Randy has always had an interest in working with wood and building things. In his wood shop class in high school he learned how to make furniture. With the help of a friend he made a bedroom set and other wooden furniture and sold them to a furniture dealer. Randy says, “It’s important to do something in high school instead of just sliding by. My wood shop class helped me to develop skills so that now I can work as a carpenter before going on a mission. After my mission I plan to return and work as a carpenter while attending school.”

At one time and at great sacrifice, my mother and I went to the temple. There we said many prayers for our family, especially for my younger brother who had not been active in the Church for five years. On our return home, we discovered that at the very moment we were praying in the temple, my brother was asking the full-time missionaries to help him and his friend live better lives. In time, he was able to baptize his friend, and now both of them are preparing to serve missions.
Celeste Mongi, Los Olmos Branch, Villa María Argentina District

During my service as a bishop and as a stake president, I worked with a number of young men and women who came to more fully appreciate and understand the atonement of Jesus Christ and the principle of repentance. I recall one young man who had to repent and overcome some individual and personal weaknesses before he could worthily enter the temple to make sacred covenants and become a full-time missionary. We counseled together on a number of occasions over a period of many months. The anticipated dates for receiving his mission call and departing for the MTC came and went. This young man had to face the awkwardness of people asking him why he had not yet received his call and left for his mission. In one of our conversations this young man asked me why he had to wait so long? “Would it not be better,” he asked, “to overcome my personal weaknesses in the mission field and in the service of the Lord?” I responded: “Service as a missionary is about teaching the restored gospel, bearing testimony, and inviting investigators to receive the ordinances of salvation. You must have the companionship of the Holy Ghost to accomplish that work. You certainly should not expect to be perfect before you can serve. But you must overcome your particular, personal challenge if you are to be worthy of His spirit. If you truly repent with real intent and a sincere heart, then as you make sacred covenants in the temple, as you enter the MTC, and as you serve in the mission field, you will not have to wonder if you belong there! If you do not now learn how to repent properly, how can you possibly help your future investigators to repent? Your repentance and the resulting forgiveness will bring a peace of mind that will enable you to serve with great faith and diligence and inspiration. You deserve the spiritual assurance and confidence that come from true repentance. You will not have to wonder if you belong there!”

Eventually this young man worthily did enter the House of the Lord. He did enter the MTC, and he served as a valiant missionary. After he had been in his assigned field of labor for about six months, he asked his mission president for permission to call me on the telephone. The mission president permitted the call, and late one evening this elder and I had a wonderful conversation. He joyfully told me about his investigators and his experiences in the mission field. He expressed his appreciation for the atonement, and for the principle of repentance, and for the personal lessons he had learned. As we concluded our conversation, he said, “President, I am glad I had to wait. I have never once wondered if I belong here. Thank you for your help.”

To my wife, Robyn, and me, nothing is more precious than our children and grandchildren. There was a time when we didn't think we would have children. Following our marriage we went seven years longing to have a baby. Finally, we were able to adopt our daughter Christy, and life changed dramatically for us. Robyn left a demanding job to do something she found was much harder yet much more fulfilling--motherhood.

When Christy joined our family, we decided to buy some expensive furniture that we could pass down to our posterity as heirlooms. A beautiful hardwood highchair and brass canopy crib soon adorned our home.

Then another miracle happened. Three months after adopting Christy, we got the great news that Robyn was expecting a baby! She gave birth to a little boy the next year. We discovered that our little boy had a tendency to be a bit more destructive with expensive furniture! One day, our son decided that it would be great fun to hang like a monkey from the slender canopy on the crib. As you might imagine, the weight of our little monkey caused the brass poles to collapse, and our heirloom crib was ruined. Later he stood on the highchair, knocking it backwards and crashing it against the buffet. Gratefully, he wasn't hurt, but the chair was ruined!

So much for heirlooms! We learned quickly that material things can turn to junk in an instant. Everything we bought afterwards was the cheapest we could find, and we began to focus on spiritual things we could pass on to our posterity.

Our family grew. We were blessed with two more boys. Now we are welcoming grandchildren into our family. Parenthood is not easy, but could there be more precious fruit to fulfill your life than a righteous posterity?

Illustration by iStock/Thinkstock
I had just returned from school. I’d gotten into an argument with one of my best friends from church, and it had really got me down.
As usual, I sat down to read my email. I saw one from her and opened it. I scanned the text carefully. The hurtful words covered me like a wave. The tears streamed down my face as I read to the end. My heart felt like it had been blown apart.
I quickly created a new email to her and started to type, but then something told me to stop. I knew it was the Holy Ghost. I backed away from the computer. In my head I asked, “Why do I need to stop? I need to tell her how I feel.” Then came the words, “All right. Tell her how you really feel.” I quickly moved toward the computer again.
I paused to analyze the Spirit’s words. Though they had been almost exactly my own words, they made me ponder. I wondered, “How do I really feel?” Immediately the words betrayed, broken, and hurt came to mind. Again a voice said, “Tell her how you really feel.” True, I felt those things, but I wouldn’t want to hurt her like she hurt me. We were friends, weren’t we? I realized that what I really felt was love.
My anger and sadness still surrounded me, but I decided to trust the Lord. I deleted the words I had written and started listing things I loved about her. As I did, my negative emotions completely left me. I found myself making a list so long that it took multiple scrolls to get through it. When I finally hit Send, I let out a sigh. I felt like my heart had been cleansed of pain and grief. I knew that my Savior had taken away my pain and filled my soul with Christlike love.
A couple of days later I received a response from my friend. She explained that at first she had been too shocked to respond. As soon as she had seen the list, she started reading it, expecting it to be a list of insults. When she found that they were compliments, she was blown away with disbelief.
I learned that when you make someone else feel better, it makes you feel better. Never underestimate the power of God. It deeply affected my life at that moment. I’ll never forget my pause to question and listen and how it has benefited my life.

One of my earliest challenges came when my father, President Henry B. Eyring, was called to leave Stanford University and move to Ricks College, the relatively small school that is now a large university, BYU-Idaho. As a boy of just seven, I found it hard to leave the swimming pool and orchards and hideouts on my grandparents’ hill.

I had no idea where my family and I were going. Yet my heart and mind were at peace; somehow I knew that we had been called to an important place. But I was sketchy about the details. During show-and-tell in my second-grade classroom, I proudly stood and said, “My family is moving to Rexburg, Iowa.”

In those days, I was small for my age, and I tended to keep to myself, preferring the company of my mother and father. During recess at Lincoln Elementary School, the older boys liked to pull off the bright-green, knitted stocking cap that Mom bought for me when we moved to Rexburg. That was easy to do because the cap had a large, green pompom that might as well have had the words “Pull Me” sewed on it. The older boys only got more mischievous when I tried to take the cap back.

In 1898 David O. McKay (1873–1970), who later became the ninth President of the Church, was a homesick missionary in Scotland. He had been in the city of Stirling only a few weeks and was discouraged. He and his companion spent one morning walking around Stirling Castle. On the way back into town they noticed an unfinished building. “Over the front door,” President McKay later explained, “was a stone arch, something unusual in a residence, and what was still more unusual, I could see from the sidewalk that there was an inscription chiseled in that arch.
“I said to my companion: ‘That’s unusual! I am going to see what the inscription is.’ When I approached near enough, this message came to me, not only in stone, but as if it came from One in whose service we were engaged:
“‘Whate’er Thou Art, Act Well Thy Part’” (in Conference Report, October 1956, 91).
The message the young elder received that morning was to act his part well as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was also a message President McKay lived and taught throughout a lifetime of service.

Dr. Walker came one evening with a book under his arm and a flower in his hand. “Kari, I want you to have this book. I noticed you and your mother reading together, and I guess I wanted to get into the act. I think you of all people might understand a little of what this young boy went through. He was about your age.”
Kari reached for the book and smiled when she realized it was about the Prophet Joseph Smith. As she read she began to feel that Joseph was a good friend as they traveled together through pain, trials, endurance, and above all, loneliness.
A few weeks after the operation, Dr. Walker told Kari she would have to have radiation therapy. The first snowfall had covered the old oak tree when Kari’s mother drove her to the first treatment. Dr. Walker had prepared her for the aftereffects as best he could, but she soon learned to hate the radiation treatments, even though she knew they were probably saving her life. She wrote in her journal, “A radiation treatment is 100 stormy nights all mixed into one.”
Kari’s mother kept her promise. She was there every step of the way. She was a cheerleader in a house dress and apron, keeping up the faith and the fight.
Christmas came and went. The words “Kari, make it just one more day,” became Mother’s battle cry. Or if the fatigue or nausea was unbearable, the words were, “Kari, make it just one more hour.”
As winter dragged on, the hours and days merged into a gray landscape of pain and exhaustion. Finally, on Valentine’s Day, Kari gave up. She lay in bed looking at an unopened valentine from her mother. Finally, she let it fall to the floor, still unopened. She was tired beyond caring. Her leg burned and itched. She was on the verge of vomiting. She lay back and gave herself up to “What if?” and “Why me?”
Turning her head as if to hide the pointless tears, she saw through her window the ropes of her swing. They moved lazily with the wind, pale lines against the bare oak limbs and gray sky. She struggled to her elbow, then slid heavily from her bed and limped to the window. As she looked down at the swing, a memory stirred and grew strong. She knew what she had to do.
She had made it down the stairs somehow and was halfway out the door when her little brother John found her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he said. “Please get back to bed. It’s cold out here. You’ll catch cold and …”
“Just help me get to the swing.”
John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The swing? You want to swing? It’s freezing out here.”
Kari kept limping toward the swing. “If you won’t help me, I’ll get there myself.”
John put an arm around Kari’s waist, and she leaned on his shoulder. Together they moved on toward the swing. Each step took forever. Kari held her stomach to keep from retching, dragging her leg behind her.
Finally they reached the wooden seat. Kari sat down and John began pushing her. At first she could do nothing but hold on weakly, but then she felt a change. Her grip tightened. Her head felt less heavy on her shoulders. Slowly at first, then more swiftly, strength came flooding into her from some hidden reservoir. For the first time in weeks she felt fueled by a purpose. She began pulling hard on the rope and stretching her toes forward. She felt as if she were reaching with her legs for the height her soul required. With all the strength she possessed she struggled higher and higher, hanging at each summit in a weightless, timeless calm, then dropping back into a dizzy gulf. Soon she was higher than she had ever been before. Street on street opened to her. Suddenly the whole valley was before her, clear to the horizon. She could see to the edge of the world. Her toes touched oak twigs. She felt as if she had left her body behind while her spirit soared. With every swing the world looked new and different. The oak limbs blurring past were the color of Thomas’s new suit.
The pages of Dr. Walker’s book began to dance in circles through Kari’s mind. She thought of Joseph crying out to the Lord in the jail at Liberty, and she heard the answer:
“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity … shall be but a small moment;
“And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes” (D&C 121:7–8).
She felt as if she were kneeling with the Prophet as he searched the heavens again for the height he needed, and again heard the voice. “If the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good” (D&C 122:7).
Bells chimed somewhere in the valley, and Kari thought they were ringing in her soul.
All her newfound strength suddenly drained from her. She was barely able to hold on as the swing slowed. She went limp as John grabbed the ropes and stopped her.
He came around from behind the swing and faced Kari, steadying her as she slumped forward. He was surprised to see a calmness about her. And something that had been missing much too long seemed to have come back.
“John?”
“Kari, what is it? Do you need the doctor?”
Kari shook her head. “I was just wondering how long a woman lives. How old is a woman usually when she dies?”
John shivered in the 35-degree weather. “I had a teacher at school tell me the average life of a woman was 70 or so. She was about 50, and I think she told us that to take away our hopes of getting a different teacher in the near future.”
The wind stopped blowing for a moment, and the air felt less harsh. “John, Dr. Walker says I’ve got three more months of radiation treatments. Right now that looks like forever, but when I think of living 50 or 60 years after that, it’s really just an instant.”
John took his jacket off and put it over Kari’s shoulders. He glimpsed his mother at the kitchen window and knew that in a few moments she would be running out to bring Kari back to the safety of the house.
Kari made circles for a moment with her toe. “The surgeons think they got all the cancer, but they won’t be sure for at least five years, and even then there are no guarantees. But, John …” She took his hands and found that they were strong, like Thomas’s, like her father’s. “Even if they didn’t get it all—when I think of even the longest life compared to forever, it’s like sitting here on the swing and seeing just beyond the yard compared to being so high I can see the entire valley. It’s just a moment.”
John looked a little dubious. “I’d have to say it was a long moment, in my opinion.”
Kari smiled despite the churning of her stomach and the screaming of her leg. “Okay, a long moment, but still a moment.”
“Now let’s go in, Kari. Please? Mom’s coming out of the house, and she’s going to be madder than wet hornets.”
John lifted Kari from the swing. Her head began to swim, and her stomach lurched. He held her tight and started guiding her back to the house. Suddenly she stopped and turned around to look once more at the swing. She knew, as some things are just known, that she would swing again when the bluejays began to fly and the sun warmed the house once more.
“John, Thomas was right.”
John turned around and looked at the swing too. “Thomas is usually right, Kari. He’s the brains in this family.”
The swing began to move slightly as the wind picked up. Kari saw her mother out of the corner of her eye, running to help.
Kari turned her back to the swing, and at the same time she turned her back on giving up. Snow began to fall, but Kari’s thoughts were on the coming spring. She was thinking about the hours she would spend on the swing, and about how far she would learn to see.

In 1952, super-athlete Emil Zatopek of Czechoslovakia won both the 10,000 and 5,000-meter races. To celebrate his victory, he announced he would enter the marathon, even though he had never run the 41.8 kilometer event before.
“Do you really think you can win?” a newsman asked.
“If I didn’t think I could win, I wouldn’t have entered,” Zatopek replied.
At the 24.1 kilometer mark, Zatopek was side-by-side with Him Peters of Great Britain, the pre-race favorite.
“Don’t you think we should be going a bit faster?” Zatopek asked, then ran ahead. He was grinning when he won.