Gospel Story Finder

The fact that Apii is alive is part of the reason her family joined the Church. When she was eight, she was desperately ill with asthma. Missionaries gave her a blessing, and she was healed literally moments later. “I was really weak,” says Apii. “I hadn’t been able to eat or drink. As soon as the missionaries said amen I was all right. I opened my eyes and asked for something to drink. Everybody sort of laughed they were so relieved.”

L. Tom Perry
(46) As a boy, L. Tom Perry and other Primary children hike to a favorite canyon spot with their teacher.

One of the most [thrilling] moments of your life—when you were filled with anticipation, excitement, and gratitude—you are not able to remember. That experience occurred in the premortal life when you were informed that finally your time had come to leave the spirit world to dwell on earth with a mortal body. …
… You had been reserved to come when the fulness of the gospel is on earth. You arrived when His Church and the priesthood authority to perform the sacred temple ordinances are in place. You anticipated being born into a home where parents would be expected to love, nurture, strengthen, and teach you truths. You knew that in time you would have the opportunity to form your own eternal family as husband or wife, father or mother. Oh, how you must have rejoiced with that prospect. …

One of America’s most gifted writers, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, wrote of this after his wife had died three years before; he longed for her still. Time had not softened his grief nor eased the torment of his memories. He had no heart for poetry those days. He had no heart for anything, it seemed. Life had become an empty dream. But this could not go on, he told himself. He was letting the days slip by, nursing his despondency. Life was not an empty dream. He must be up and doing. Let the past bury its dead.
Suddenly Longfellow was writing in a surge of inspiration, the lines coming almost too quickly for his racing pen; and I will read only three verses of this immortal and inspired message to those whom he loved:
“Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
“Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
“Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.”
Longfellow wrote these verses, “The Psalm of Life.” He put the poem aside at first, unwilling to show it to anyone. As he later explained, “It was a voice from my inmost heart, at a time when I was rallying from depression.”

“My parents lived in the Mormon colonies in Mexico and at the time of the exodus, they moved to Moreland, Idaho, and opened a blacksmith shop,” recalled Elder Fyans. “And that’s where I was born. As a young child, I remember walking the hundred feet or so from our home to where Father had built his shop. The forge, the anvil, and the horseshoes fashioned by my father are vivid memories. I remember walking uptown with my father one day when I was still very young and going into a store where he bought me a bottle of soda pop. In those days that was a rare treat, and I remember how impressed I was with my father’s generosity.”

(This is a report on an activity that was carried out before the beginning of the new Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthood MIA programs.)
Last March marked the beginning of a unique project in the Church when a regional MIA for the handicapped started operation for the qualifying youth in the Davis County (Utah) area. From a beginning handful the number has grown to fifteen enthusiastic members between the ages of fourteen and thirty. They have been overlooked in their own ward and stake programs because of their handicaps, but now even those who had found it difficult to converse have bloomed in their own special program.
A major activity for the group was held at Christmas time. Two plays were presented in which the members were cast. Ernest Nielsen and Marlane Flack, two talented young activity directors, were in charge of the event. They also accompany the young people and teach them to sing, give prayers, talks, and participate in the usual MIA achievement activities. The plays were successfully presented before an audience of one hundred and fifty. One of the plays was repeated as part of the stake road-show, earning a special award.
In February a gala dinner-dance was held. Lessons preceding the activity included table manners and etiquette. Decorations were made by the MIA members. One of the leaders made black-and-white silhouettes of each participant and these were posted around the cultural hall, interspersed by red-and-white lace valentines to be taken home at the end of the dance, mementos of a glorious achievement for them.
It was a unique dance—no wallflowers! Everyone had been tutored in a few basic modern dance steps, and they participated freely in the festivities. A ten-piece combo furnished live music, one of five groups who volunteered gratis services. Four volunteer youth served the dinner in style, and a local florist donated corsages and boutonnieres. A local dance group presented a floor show.
During the year other youth helpers have volunteered their assistance for the weekly meetings. Paula Sheffield, a teenager, attends weekly as an assistant. Kerry Brinkerhoff showed up one evening with a friend. As a self-initiated project for seminary, they came to see how they could help. Kerry stayed on to assist in activities with the fellows, especially sports.
Perhaps the climax of the season’s work was the patriotic program presented in May. The group had learned six songs and spoke lines between talks given by the adult leaders, all a part of an original script, God Gave Me Dear America, written especially for the occasion. A special American flag was displayed on the front wall. During the year, when any member gave a prayer, theme, or talk, his or her name was written on a white star to adorn the blue field. So that was truly a flag of achievement. Patriotic items made by the members were on display in the festively decorated cultural hall.
A number of field trips have been taken in addition to weekly meetings—Christmas Tree Land, the circus, roller skating, a Temple Square tour, a play at the Promised Valley Theater. Summer activities featured the group’s second camp experience, one for the girls and one for the boys.
Enthusiasm runs high in this new MIA. Whenever the members meet each other, one will say, “See you at MIA on Thursday.” They are experiencing the joy of achieving.
Dora D. Flack

I was a boy during the Great Depression. I remember children wearing galoshes because they had no shoes and going hungry because they had no food. These were difficult times.
A bright light of hope shining amidst the gloom was Primary. I was 10 years old. I had a marvelous teacher. I look back upon that year as my finest in Primary, and I must say it was because of my wonderful teacher. It wasn’t because the boys in the class were particularly enlightened or unusually well behaved; on the contrary.
The laughter of the boys and the chatter of the girls at times must have been most disconcerting to our Primary leaders.
One day as we left the chapel for our classrooms, I noted that our Primary president remained behind. I paused and observed her. She sat all alone on the front row of the benches, took out her handkerchief, and began to weep. I walked up to her and said, “Sister Georgell, don’t cry.”
She said, “I’m sad.”
I responded, “What’s the matter?”
She said, “I can’t control the Trail Builders.* Will you help me?”
Of course I answered, “Yes.”
She said, “Oh, that would be wonderful, Tommy, if you would.”
What I didn’t know then is that I was one of those responsible for her tears. She had effectively enlisted me to aid in achieving reverence in our Primary. And we did.

It was early Saturday morning. Samuel sat at the kitchen table and stared at his bowl of cereal. He didn’t really feel like eating.
“Dad?” he said quietly. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to meet my basketball team today.”
“I know it’s hard to be the new kid, but you’ll make friends,” Dad said.
“No, it’s not that … I’m just worried about what they’ll think.”
Dad sat next to him. “Do you mean you wonder what your team will think of a new player who only has one hand?”
Samuel was born without a left hand. His left arm stopped at the wrist.
“Yeah,” said Samuel. “Since they don’t know me, they might think a one-handed kid can’t play basketball.”
“They might think that, but you’re a great player. And going to practice will help you play even better,” Dad said with a smile. “Come on. Get your jersey and your water bottle. Let’s go meet your team.”
Samuel sighed. “OK.”
As soon as they entered the gymnasium, the coach walked over.
“Hi there! I’m Coach Monroe. You must be our new player.”
“Yes, I’m Samuel.”
“We’re glad to have you on our team,” Coach Monroe said. “Let’s go meet the other boys.”
Dad sat on a bench. Samuel grabbed his ball and followed the coach.
“I want to introduce Samuel, our newest player,” Coach Monroe said. A few boys gave Samuel a small wave. “We’re lucky to have him in time for our first game. I think we’re going to have a great team, a great game, and a great season!”
Coach Monroe blew his whistle, and the team started some practice moves. Samuel saw a few of his teammates staring as he bounced and threw the ball with just his right hand. He tried not to let that distract him.
During a water break, a boy sat next to Samuel on the bench. “Hi, I’m Jackson. What happened to your hand?”
“Nothing. It’s just the way I was born,” said Samuel.
“I’ve never seen anyone with one hand play ball before,” said Jackson. “You’re really good.”
Samuel smiled. “Thanks.”
Coach Monroe blew his whistle again. “For the last 30 minutes, we’re going to play a practice game.” He put the boys into two teams. Samuel was glad Jackson was on his team.
With a minute left in the game, both teams had the same number of points. One of Samuel’s teammates got the ball and looked around for someone to pass to. Samuel was nearby, ready to catch the ball. But the boy passed it to Jackson instead.
Jackson took a few steps. Then he spotted Samuel and passed the ball to him. Samuel caught the ball, turned, and threw it toward the basket.
Swish! The ball went in just as Coach Monroe blew the whistle. Samuel’s team cheered.
“Great pass,” Samuel said to Jackson as they walked to the benches.
“Great shot,” Jackson said. “The other guys will learn that one hand is enough to play basketball.”
Samuel smiled and gave Jackson a high five. He had a feeling Coach Monroe was right. It was going to be a great team, a great game, and a great season.
This story took place in the USA.

The New Era is a great comfort to me. I am a convert to the Church, and I have learned many wonderful things this past year just by reading this great magazine! I go to a Catholic school, and I have to take a course in religion. In this class I was assigned to give an oral report from a magazine or book on “My Personal Happiness.” I chose the article “The Business of Being” in the July 1983 issue of the New Era. Elder Cuthbert really knows the meaning of maturity. When I gave that report, I know that the Spirit was with me. He helped me to touch the hearts of many in my class, and I am grateful for that. By the way, I got an A!
Linda VillaromanSan Francisco, California

Kasi Genereux of the Rohnert Park Third Ward, San Rafael California Stake, has been known for a lot of things around her high school, like a 4.0 GPA and her enthusiasm as the spirit squad assistant head. But the accomplishment that means the most to her is her 100+ hours of service given through her school’s Student/Community Involvement program.
She served in the peer helping group, and was on the Safe Rides Steering Committee. She also spends her summers working with handicapped children. In addition, she served as Laurel class president and took time to share the gospel with a friend who was eventually baptized.
Kasi’s dream is to become a pediatric nurse.

A Brown Bird Singing Anego, a Chippewa, lives happily in a tiny Scandinavian village in Minnesota with a white family for several years. Then her father returns for her. What can she do? She loves her white family, but she wants to hold fast to her Indianness too. … Frances Wosmek10–13 years

Kristen Gilbraith can be counted on to go the distance. She is an excellent long-distance runner and has won three straight 3,200-meter Idaho state titles.
Kristen’s goal is to win the title a fourth time, a feat that has never been done.
To accomplish her goals, Kristen runs regularly all year long. But, in addition, she takes time to be on the honor roll at her high school and serve as president of her Laurel class. Kristen is a member of the Sugar City Third Ward, Sugar City Idaho Stake.

Thank you so much for putting in a scripture-related Sudoku puzle in the July 2008 issue. I love Sudoku puzzles, and I especially enjoyed this one. It helped me to memorize the scripture, and now I remember it every day. This little game has proved to be helpful in my life.
Shaney W., Washington

After school I’d go to my dad’s bakery, stand on a can next to him, and learn about running a bakery. When I’d leave to go play with my friends, one of my Primary teachers would step out from where she worked as a dishwasher, take hold of my hand, and say, “Are you being a good boy?” It didn’t matter what I had on my mind, whether it was good or not. I would say, “Yes.” If I had been planning mischief, my plans would change. I knew that she loved me.

After he received a master’s degree in agricultural economics from Iowa State University, the couple returned to the farm in Idaho. He was so helpful to other farmers that county commissioners drafted him to be the county agricultural agent. This led to other positions with the University of Idaho Extension Service and a move to Boise, the state capital. He helped organize the Idaho Cooperative Council and became its secretary in 1933. One of the campaigns for which he was largely responsible made Idaho potatoes famous. His successful and influential career in agriculture economics led him to the highest agricultural office in the U.S. He served as Secretary of Agriculture for eight years.

Marianne pulled her sweater around her as she walked home from church. She loved autumn. The air was cool and crisp, the trees had turned a beautiful orange and yellow, and the layer of snow on the top of the mountains reflected the sunlight.
Her older brother walked ahead; her mom was still in the meetinghouse library. Marianne knew that when she got home, her dad would be sitting in the family room, reading the newspaper, as he had every Sunday for as long as she could remember.
She sighed and looked down at the paper cup in her hand. Jesus often taught the gospel by talking about seeds. Today her Primary teacher had helped her and her classmates plant seeds and told them about Alma’s teachings about faith. Marianne knew that every time she looked at her little plant, she would remember that Jesus wanted her to plant his words in her heart and to always choose the right.
Right now, though, she was thinking about some different seeds—missionary seeds she had learned about a couple of weeks ago at the Primary activity. The Primary president had talked about the ones we plant when we talk to people who are not members of the Church.
Her father was not a member of the Church, and she wanted to help him gain a testimony. She thought about the things she did and said when she was with him. Sometimes she forgot to obey quickly, and sometimes she and her big brother fought. But she was trying her best to be a good example, and she prayed for her father all the time. Today she wondered if maybe there was something more she could be doing. She decided to ask her mom about it.
Right after school the next day, Marianne put on her warmest sweatshirt and went out in the front yard to help her mom plant tulip bulbs. The sun warmed her back, but her face and hands felt the bite of fall. Her mom hummed as she dug the holes, and Marianne put in the bulbs and covered them with the dark, cool dirt.
“I’m glad you came out to help me,” Mom said, smiling. “When these come up in the spring, they will be twice as beautiful because we planted them together.”
Marianne smiled back, then cleared her throat. “Mom, remember our Primary activity a few weeks ago?”
“The missionary activity?”
“Yes. We talked about setting a good example for our nonmember friends and about sharing our testimonies.”
“Those are good things to do.”
“Well, I wondered if there is something else I should be doing … you know, with Dad, so he can be a member too.”
Mom thought for a minute. “I think we’re doing all we can.”
“Well, then, when is he going to get baptized?”
“We just have to be patient, Marianne. Sometimes it takes a little time.”
Marianne felt confused. She had a strong testimony that the Church was true. If she could tell him and show him, why didn’t her dad see how right it was? She wrinkled her nose and looked at her mother for an explanation.
Mom smiled at her. “Marianne, go in my room and get my scriptures. We’ll see if we can find an answer there.”
It only took a minute to get the scriptures. Marianne sat on the porch step and handed the worn brown books to her mother.
Brushing the dirt off her hands, Mom carefully turned the pages. She handed the book to Marianne and said, “Read aloud from Matthew 13:3–8.” [Matt. 13:3–8]
“‘And he spake many things unto them in parables, saying, Behold, a sower went forth to sow;
“‘And when he sowed, some seeds fell by the way side, and the fowls came and devoured them up:
“‘Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth:
“‘And when the sun was up, they were scorched; and because they had no root, they withered away.
“‘And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up, and choked them:
“‘But other fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit. …’”
“What do you think this parable is saying?” Mom asked.
“Well, it says that not all the seeds that were planted grew. Some didn’t have good soil, weeds choked some, and some were eaten by birds.” She paused a second, then, with a troubled look, asked, “Do you mean that you don’t think our seeds will grow? You don’t think that Dad will ever join the Church?” Tears started to gather in her eyes.
“No, Marianne. I do believe that your dad will join the Church. I just don’t know when. You see, the seeds we plant are very important, but so is the soil. The heart has to be ready to receive. Your dad has to do that for himself; no one can do it for him or force him.”
“But Dad is the best!”
“Yes, he is. He’s a great man.” Mom thought a minute as she returned to the flower bed, dug in the ground, and placed a tulip bulb in the hole. “Look at these bulbs we’re planting. They aren’t going to grow now. No matter how we care for them, these tulip bulbs have to lie in the soil all winter long if they are to be ready to grow in the spring. Do you understand?”
Marianne was silent for a moment. “I guess so. We have to set a good example, share our testimonies, and love Dad. Then we have to wait until the seeds are ready to grow, right?”
“Yes, that is right. And while we’re waiting, we continue to support him as the head of our home.”
“And we can still pray.”
“Yes, sweetheart, we always pray. Does that help you?”
“Yes. I feel much better.”
“Good. It looks like we’re just about done here. Let’s finish up and go fix a nice dinner to welcome Dad home from work.”
As Marianne was putting the last things on the table, Dad drove in the driveway. She ran to give him a hug. “Hi, Dad!”
“Hi, sweetheart. What have my two best girls been doing?”
Marianne took Dad’s hand, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and said, “Oh, just planting some seeds.”

Harold Connolly had broken his left arm several times. It was only two-thirds the size of his right. To exercise and build up the smaller arm, he began throwing the hammer back to Boston College’s regular throwers. Soon he was tossing it back farther than they were throwing it, so he entered the event. He later broke the world record and won a gold medal. He made himself strongest where he was weakest.

He and his brothers worked hard to have __________ in their front yard. They had to haul water in buckets to make it grow.

Yet there are those who do not hear, who will not obey, who listen to the enticings of the evil one, who grasp those maka-fekes until they cannot let go, until all is lost. I think of that person of power, that cardinal of the cloth, even Cardinal Wolsey. The prolific pen of William Shakespeare described the majestic heights, the pinnacle of power to which Cardinal Wolsey ascended. That same pen told how principle was eroded by vain ambition, by expediency, by a clamor for prominence and prestige. Then came the tragic descent, the painful lament of one who had gained everything, then lost it all.
To Cromwell, his faithful servant, Cardinal Wolsey speaks:
O Cromwell, Cromwell!
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, He would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
That inspired mandate which would have led Cardinal Wolsey to safety was ruined by the pursuit of power and prominence, the quest for wealth and position. Like others before him and many more yet to follow, Cardinal Wolsey fell.

We once had a child who was very very ill and on the borderline of possible death. Our other children were well at the time. We loved the child who was ill; we rejoiced at the time of his recovery more than over the others who were well. At the moment that seemed to be the most important thing in our lives. And I think that that’s the way Christ and God must feel about the person who has done wrong and who comes back. Even before he comes back I think God is forgiving, whether he repents or not. He asks us to forgive. He doesn’t say forgive when people repent. He says forgive seven times seventy. I don’t think God would ask me to be forgiving when he is not. I think somehow that the principles of the gospel are his principles, too. Therefore, the reason we have to repent is to be able to forgive ourselves and to be able to get in harmony again with the principles and laws of good living. We don’t have to repent to earn God’s love, even though some scriptures portray him as being very angry with the sinner. Others portray him as angry with sin, not with the sinner.