Gospel Story Finder

A small group of sisters brought their sewing machines along and started a patchwork and quilting group to run at the same time as the knitters.
Throughout this year they have been knitting baby blankets and clothes for the “Baby Basics” charity in Northampton, which the Kettering Ward supports as a local donation centre. Tiny baby hats for Kettering General Hospital’s baby unit were also made and delivered. The patchworkers have completed several quilts, including some special small sized quilts that are given to sick children in a local hospice to wrap their teddy bear in while they receive chemotherapy treatment.

It has taken me six years to forgive a family member who hurt me and others in the family. This person lowered my self-esteem, and I have felt taken advantage of. For a while I felt this person deserved to be hated, but I know I was wrong. I had to find a solution to a four-year grudge. I felt I should pray about it. Every time I prayed I would ask Heavenly Father to help me forgive and stop having bad feelings toward this person. It didn’t come all at once, but took two years of praying and even fasting. In those two years I slowly was rid of those bad feelings of hatred. I had finally forgiven that person. I felt so much better about myself.
Name withheld

It might seem like it would be hard to spend Christmas in another country, away from friends and familiar traditions, but Natalie Bone, a Laurel in the Orem Utah Lakeridge Stake, Lakeridge Eighth Ward, will tell you it can be the very best way to spend a holiday.
“It wasn’t really hard to be away,” she says. “It felt like I was really doing something purposeful.”
Natalie and her parents spent last Christmas at an orphanage in Cuautemoc, Chihuahua, Mexico. While they were there, Natalie distributed to the children gifts purchased with money that was donated by members of Natalie’s ward, her classmates, and others who are friends with Natalie’s family.
“I was impressed at how polite and appreciative the children were. They each shared their gifts with the others. I learned a great lesson about being grateful and sharing,” says Natalie.

At about age 10, I experienced that warm feeling again when I went to stake conference with my parents. An Apostle, Elder Matthew Cowley, was the visiting speaker. He was well known for being a man of faith and miracles—he served a five-year mission to New Zealand starting when he was only 17! As he spoke, I knew for myself that he was a servant of our Heavenly Father. After the meeting, I asked my parents if I could shake his hand. We stood in line for a long time because many other people felt as I did, that Elder Cowley was a very special man. When I finally had the opportunity to shake his hand, I began to cry. I cried all the way home. As a young lad, I was very self-conscious about crying for no apparent reason. My mother explained to me that the feelings I had were a sign of the Spirit confirming that Elder Cowley was a special witness of the Savior. I often experience those same feelings when I shake hands with the Brethren whom we sustain as prophets, seers, and revelators today.

I am indebted to Elder Dallin Oaks for an account, a modern-day parable which I refer to as the parable of the bushy-tailed squirrel, the tree, and the dog, which illustrates my concern:
As two men walked across an eastern university campus, they were attracted by a crowd of people surrounding a large maple tree. As they approached, they noticed that the crowd was being amused by the antics of a fox-tailed squirrel circling the tree, climbing it, and running back down again. A red Irish setter dog crouched nearby, intently watching the squirrel. Each time the squirrel ran up the tree out of sight, the dog would slowly creep towards the tree. The squirrel paid little attention as the dog crept closer and closer, patiently biding its time. People watching this entertaining drama unfold knew what could happen, but they did nothing until in a flash the dog—catching the squirrel unaware—had it in the grip of his sharp teeth.
The people then rushed forward in horror, forcing the dog’s mouth open to rescue the squirrel. It was too late. The squirrel was dead. Anyone could have warned the squirrel or held back the dog. But they had been momentarily amused and had watched silently while evil slowly crept up on good. When they rushed to the defense, it was too late.

Jeffrey Holland’s father, Frank, was a different kind of pioneer. An Irish convert to the Church, Frank ended his formal schooling with the seventh grade. But he diligently sought education on his own, becoming a public accountant and civic leader in St. George. Some who came under his influence still speak of the impact of his love of the Book of Mormon and still remember his Sunday School lessons. He was the kind of father who helped organize Little League baseball in the community after his son lamented that there were no baseball teams for boys his age.

Ten years after John Taylor and Wilford Woodruff arrived in England, my own great-grandfather, Henry Ballard, was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by a faithful member:
“Henry was only seventeen years old at the time he joined the Church [in 1849]. … Sometime during the winter months of 1849, Henry traveled to London News, a community … north of London, to live with his married brother George [who] … had established a fairly successful carriage business in the area. They had much to offer Henry—especially material things. George was always kind to Henry, and being eleven years older, felt the need to protect and watch after his welfare. The following incident bears this out.
“It was Sunday evening, and Henry had just returned from church. George, curious about Henry’s whereabouts, inquired as to where he had been. ‘To church,’ Henry replied. George, having already attended church without seeing Henry there asked, ‘What church?’ ‘The Mormon church,’ Henry said truthfully. Amazed and astonished, George vocally wondered why, in heaven’s name, would he attend the ‘detestable’ Mormon church. ‘Because I am a member of it,’ replied Henry. Henry then bore his testimony of the truthfulness of what he believed to be the only true church. George, unconverted, became angry.
“George reprimanded Henry severely and told him he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. Henry remained firm, but feared what his older brother might do.
“When George could see he was getting nowhere, he enlisted the support of his minister. Three days passed as they tried to persuade Henry to change his mind. First one would pray, then the other, in an effort to save Henry. Henry held steadfastly to his convictions, never wavering nor doubting. The Holy Ghost had told him the Church was true. He dared not deny it. Convinced no argument of reason … would ever change Henry’s mind, George took another approach.
“As Satan tempted Christ, George tempted Henry—or tried to. He offered to give him the best carriage in all of London. He would give him a coachman to drive him around and cater to all of his whims. Henry would be a gentleman as he presented himself in his fine clothes, kidskin gloves, and silk hat.
“How could Henry refuse the hospitality of George’s fine home for as long as he wished? Henry would never have to work, unless it became his desire. A part of the business would be his, and he would never again live in poverty, as his father and mother had all their lives. No religion would be worth losing all this. George only asked for Henry to give up the ‘foolish notion’ of Mormonism.
“Like [the Prophet] Joseph Smith, Henry kept the faith. His testimony and strength of character prevailed.
“George was explosive. He expelled Henry from his home—forever. Henry left, heavy of heart over being such a disappointment to the brother he loved, a brother who had been so kind and giving. Henry was never to set eyes on him again in this life” (Douglas O. Crookston, editor, Henry Ballard: The Story of a Courageous Pioneer, 1832–1908 [1994], 4–6).

Years later my husband told me that when he was a child, Brother Joseph went to their home and asked if he could borrow one of his mother’s twin babies. He explained that his wife Emma had been sad and lonely since her own baby had died, and he thought it would comfort her to take care of one of the girls. The Prophet picked up the baby in the morning and brought her back each night.

One evening when the baby was not home at the usual time, Mother Burgess went to see what was the matter. There was the Prophet rocking the little baby by the fire. He had her wrapped in a silk quilt, and he was singing to get her quiet.
—Margaret M. Burgess

Darlington Ward graciously gave up an evening to join with Kings Church to pack numerous food parcels for single people in Darlington. Karen Nolan reflects back on that evening: “My family and I really enjoyed working with members of our ward and the staff at Kings Church Food Bank to pack over a 100 food parcels for single people in Darlington. It was a small act of service which we all enjoyed, but I know it was greatly appreciated.”

“Mom! Mom!” Juan shouted as he ran into the house.
“What happened?” Mother asked, a little surprised by all the excitement.
“She was right! She was right!” Juan cried.
“She was right? Who was right? What are you talking about, Juan?”
“Come sit down, Mom, so I can tell you what happened in school,” Juan replied.
Mother sat down and gave Juan her attention.
“In history class we were studying different cultures. Some of the cultures worship different gods and have different beliefs. Some kids started making fun, and everybody was joking around. And then the whole class started arguing about different religions. They were standing up and defending their own religions and attacking everybody else’s. And the class was really noisy, with everybody talking at the same time.
“So the teacher stood up and told us to take turns. She said each person could come to the front of the room and explain something about his or her beliefs. But when the class heard that, they got scared and sat down. Our teacher stood there waiting for somebody to come up and talk.
“You know what, Mom? Nobody wanted to go up. But some of the kids were whispering quietly to each other. They would say, ‘In my church, we don’t drink alcohol.’ And others would answer, ‘We don’t either.’ Or they would say, ‘We go to church every Sunday.’ And other people would answer, ‘We do, too.’ But that was all.
“I was listening to what they were saying. Then I remembered what Sister Piedrasanta said in Primary. She always tells us that if we learn the Articles of Faith and know what they mean, it will be easy to talk to others about our religion.
“So I raised my hand and went up in front of everybody, even though I was scared.”
“That took courage, Juan,” Mother said. “What did you say?”
“I just imagined I was in Primary, and I said, ‘“We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost” (A of F 1:1). This means that They are three different personages.’ Then I explained that God the Father and Jesus Christ each have a body. I said, ‘They have eyes and a nose and arms and legs.’
“Some kids started laughing. But I remembered what Sister Piedrasanta taught us, and I said, ‘The Bible says that God made man in His own image and likeness. We have a body of flesh and bones because He does’ (see Gen. 1:27). And you know what, Mom? They were all quiet. Then I went on saying the Articles of Faith. Everybody was listening carefully. I felt strong inside.
“After a while, I said, ‘All of us are in the same school. We should be friends and not fight over our religions or criticize and make fun of other people. We should love each other no matter what we believe.’ Then I said the eleventh article of faith: ‘We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, and what they may.’ [A of F 1:11]
“Then everyone clapped and shouted, ‘Yeah, Juan! Way to go!’ My teacher asked how I learned all those things about my religion.
“‘In my Primary class at church,’ I answered.
“Then she went on with history class. But now everyone in my class knows what Latter-day Saints believe. That’s why I was saying Sister Piedrasanta was right. Knowing the Articles of Faith helps a lot.”
“I am so proud of what you did, Juan,” Mother said. She smiled at Juan and gave him a big hug.

Scripture study has helped a lot, both personally and in my family. When our children were young, like all families with young children, it was not easy to get the attention of our children. We had to be very creative. Fortunately, Sister Villanueva was very talented at teaching our little ones. For example, when we were learning about the Word of Wisdom, she would have us cut out different pictures from magazines, such as pictures of fruits, vegetables, boxes of cereal or some other nutritious foods. Also, she would ask us to cut out advertisements of alcohol, tobacco, coffee, etc. After reading some scriptures and explaining the Word of Wisdom, she asked our children to throw away those things that affected our bodies badly. This process kept the little ones entertained. It did not stop them from being restless and noisy, but they did learn.

I remember as a young bishop getting a call from the hospital late one night to inform me that a widow in my ward had died. I went to the hospital, then obtained the key to her apartment. A note had been left that this was to be the procedure I was to follow. As I entered her humble basement apartment, I turned on the light and went to the little table that was in the small living room. There on the table were two small bottles with a note beneath them. The bottles were filled with coins. This sweet little widow, Kathleen McKee, with no relatives surviving her, had written this note. “Bishop, here is my fast offering. I have been just with the Lord.” I think we simply need ask one another, have we been just with the Lord? Remember the principle of the true fast. Is it not to deal our bread to the hungry, to bring to our own house the poor who are outcast, to clothe the naked, to hide not ourself from our own flesh? An honest fast offering, a generous fast offering, will certainly be an indication to our Heavenly Father that we know and abide this particular law.

Many years ago, there lived an unusual man who chose to live underground. Some people even called him “the human mole,” because moles are small burrowing animals that spend most of their lives beneath the earth’s surface.

Although no one is small enough to crawl through the dark earthen tunnels inhabited by moles, thousands of people have visited the Fresno Underground Gardens, an estate created by Baldasare Forestiere. This unusual “house” is a short distance north of Fresno, California, and has been open to the public since 1954.

Mr. Forestiere was born in Messina, Sicily, in 1879. When he was 21, he came to America and worked in the underground subways of New York City.

Later, Mr. Forestiere used his savings to move to California. He bought 800 hectares of land near Fresno, which was like a desert in those days before an irrigation dam could be built. Temperatures there reached as high as 120 degrees, and Mr. Forestiere found such heat very uncomfortable. He also found that he was unable to plant fruit trees because the earth was parched and hard.

Remembering how cool it had been working down in the subways in New York, he decided to make tunnels to escape the heat. At first, he was going to dig only a few rooms to live in. But his digging lasted for 40 years and his underground rooms and passageways extended for three hectares. Most of the rooms were built three meters below the surface of the ground. In some places, he also dug a “second story” about seven meters down.

Although he was only 1.6 m, Mr. Forestiere hauled hundreds of tons of earth with his wheelbarrow. He had a natural talent for designing rooms and passageways with the strongest forms of construction known—the arch, the column, and the dome. He created an interesting variety of rooms, grottoes, and sunlit patios beneath the ground.

The underground architect’s first living quarters consisted of two rooms with some interesting features. He carved seats into the sides of the walls and made notches to hold shelves. Skylight openings above each room let in the natural light and air. In wintertime, they were covered with glass to keep out the rain.

Eventually, he constructed a more elaborate apartment that included two bedrooms and a living room, kitchen, chapel, library, and bathroom. He had a snugly recessed bed, a slide-away table to provide additional space, and two fireplaces. He built sliding windows in the kitchen and a half-wall picture window in one bedroom. He also made a “see through” or peephole so that if he heard someone coming, he could see in advance who it was.

After Mr. Forestiere had lived in his home for some time, he planted flowers, vegetables, shrubs, vines, and trees in certain sections of his underground maze where they could receive the proper sunlight and air. He experimented with various sizes and styles of skylights for this purpose. Many of the trees were grown in planters placed in the center of the rooms and gardens.

Some of the trees bear strange combinations of fruit, the result of Mr. Forestiere’s experimental grafting. His “Second Story Tree,” grown seven meters underground, produces seven different kinds of citrus fruit—navel and Valencia oranges, sweet and sour lemons, tangerines, grapefruits, and cheedro (a fruit native to Sicily). Other plants grown in the underground gardens include grape, wild mulberry, Chinese date, hibiscus, rose, date palm, avocado, almond, quince, strawberry bush, Bartlett pear, coronation pear, fig, Rose of Sharon, and loquat. There is also a carob tree, the beans from which flour and chocolate can be made.

To obtain nourishment for his plants, Mr. Forestiere made many trips in his Model T Ford pickup to bring back the rich loam of ancient lakebeds 20 km. away. Water at the necessary levels was provided by a well and pump. Mr. Forestiere even constructed an aquarium for keeping goldfish and tropical fish, with places for watching them above and under the ground.

In recent years, man has left the earth and walked on the moon. He has built submarines that became temporary homes beneath the surface of the seas. A number of science-fiction books have been written about people who have lived underground. However, it is truly remarkable that this talented man, more than 50 years ago, built a home so livable, so interesting, and so rare that thousands of visitors come each year to marvel at his accomplishment.

Mix lots of strips of newspaper, lots of young women, a well-written script, missionary-minded enthusiasm, and what have you got? The Freeport Ward, Pittsburgh East Stake’s Young Women community service project.
They used papier-mache-masked players in a program introducing the concept of family home evening to local parent/teacher groups as a free public service. It was a major project, which included handouts with family home evening ideas and brochures on marriage and communication. “It felt good teaching nonmembers gospel principles that could strengthen their families,” said one of the girls who participated. Everyone involved, both spectators and cast members, learned from the experience.

Many of the area’s teachers were killed in the tsunami, creating a significant teacher shortage. Kamaruzzaman, a teacher from Banda Aceh, is one of just two surviving teachers from his school. With the loss of buildings, teachers, and children, the education system operated in a very makeshift fashion until these new schools were constructed.
“They have been going to a temporary building for school—a community hall where there are about 40 students in the room,” said Kamaruzzaman, who is now a head schoolmaster of a newly built school. “The students now have a better school that’s more helpful to learning. They now have a more hopeful future.”

My brother, Colonel Leon C. Packer, was stationed at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. A much-decorated B-24 pilot, he became a brigadier general in the Air Force.

While I was at Langley Field, the war in Europe ended, and so we were ordered to the Pacific. I spent a few days with Leon in Washington before shipping out for combat.

He told me of things he had learned under fire. He flew from North Africa on raids over southern Europe; very few of those planes returned.

On April 16, 1943, he was captain of a B-24 bomber returning to England after a raid in Europe. His plane, the Yard Bird, was heavily damaged by flak and dropped out of formation.

Then they were alone and came under heavy attack from fighters.

His one-page account of that experience says: “Number three engine was smoking and the prop ran away. Number four fuel line was shot out. Right aileron cables and stabilizer cables were shot out. Rudders partially locked. Radio shot out. Extremely large holes in the right wing. Flaps shot out. Entire rear part of the fuselage filled with holes. Hydraulic system shot out. Tail turret out.”

A history of the Eighth Air Force, published just two years ago, gives a detailed account of that flight written by one of the crew.

With one engine on fire, the other three lost power. They were going down. The alarm bell ordered that they bail out. The bombardier, the only one able to get out, parachuted into the English Channel.

The pilots left their seats and made their way toward the bomb bay to bail out. Suddenly Leon heard an engine cough and sputter. He quickly climbed back to his seat and coaxed enough power from the engines to reach the coast of England. Then the engines failed, and they crashed.

The landing gear was shorn off on the brow of a hill; the plane plowed through trees and crumbled. Dirt filled the fuselage.

Amazingly, though some were terribly wounded, all aboard survived. The bombardier was lost, but he probably saved the lives of the other nine. When smoke poured from the engines and a parachute appeared, the fighters stopped their attack.

That was not the only time Leon had crash-landed.

As we visited, he told me how he was able to hold himself together under fire. He said, “I have a favorite hymn”—and he named it—“and when things got rough I would sing it silently to myself, and there would come a faith and an assurance that kept me on course.”

He sent me off to combat with that lesson.

Brother Yefi told us how he was introduced to the Church.
“Since I was a child,” he said, “I had suffered from nosebleeds. One time, after I was married, I suffered a nosebleed so severe that I fainted and had hallucinations. When I recovered, I thought I had gone on to the next life. But I was glad to see my wife by my side taking care of me.
“I decided to go to see a doctor in Puerto Varas. While I was at a friend’s house, he told me that two young men lived nearby who ‘cured’ people in the name of the Lord. Since I have always been a faithful man, I went to see them and asked them how much they charged for a blessing. The young men, who stood out because of their white shirts, told me, ‘We don’t charge money to bless one of our brothers. If you have faith that you will be healed with the blessing we give you, it will be the Lord who will really cure you.’
“They then invited me to sit down, but I told them, ‘I don’t feel comfortable when I’m sitting down. I would feel better kneeling.’ The missionaries put their hands on my head and gave me a blessing. The experience was marvelous. I felt warm all over my body, and I had no doubt that it was God’s power curing me. Never again did I have a nosebleed.
“After this experience, I asked the missionaries what I had to do to become a member of their Church. They asked me if I was married. I told them yes, and we made an appointment to meet together with my wife the following Sunday. The missionaries presented the first discussion, and then they asked us to return the next week for the second discussion. But I told them that because of the distance involved, I wanted them to baptize us then. So we received all the discussions and were baptized the same day, 28 September 1979.
“It’s a long distance between our home and the church, but we attended Sunday meetings as often as possible. On one of our visits, I was interviewed by the branch president to be ordained to the Aaronic priesthood.”

In 2005, I gave birth to premature triplets: Milena, Mateo, and Nelson. Milena was born healthy, but my two little boys suffered complications. Mateo died of those complications three months after he was born.
A month after we lost Mateo, Nelson was diagnosed with cerebral palsy and deafness. We were devastated. Doctors told us he would never walk. At that moment, we were grateful for our knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It helped us understand why we experience adversity in this life.
Through faith and hard work, Nelson learned to walk and to communicate through sign language. He has done much better than his doctors ever predicted. He has grown up happy in our family and in the gospel.

As rich as those blessings were, the reality of temple blessings became especially poignant in 2007. The morning of October 21, our twins, then 17, were in a car accident. Tessa sustained minor injuries, but Jenna’s condition was serious. She was taken to an area hospital, where she lay in a coma. When we learned she might not live, our three oldest children returned from college. As we spent the next days together in Jenna’s hospital room, our family took great comfort in the ordinances that will allow us to be together after death. We spent time talking about the eternal nature of families—of our family. A week after the accident, Jenna passed away.

Our temple covenants have become even more important to us since her death. We miss Jenna terribly and long for the day when we can be together again, but our faith in the plan of salvation and our testimony of eternal families sustain us. We display in our home a picture of our family at the temple, which reminds us of our experience and the promises we know can be ours.

To help us in our striving, God has given us role models and mentors. I want to share my feelings about one of mine, Elder Neal A. Maxwell. He constantly sought to submit his will to the will of the Father in his effort to become like God.

More than 20 years ago, he shared his feelings with me after he had just been diagnosed with cancer. He told me, “I want to be on the team, on this side [of the veil] or that side. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines. I want to play in the game.”

Over the next few weeks, he was reluctant to ask God to heal him; he just wanted to do God’s will. His wife, Colleen, pointed out that Jesus’s first cry in the Garden of Gethsemane was “If it be possible, let this cup pass from me.” Only then did the Savior say, “Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.” She encouraged Elder Maxwell to follow the Savior’s example, to ask for relief and then submit his will to God’s will, which he did.

After suffering through extensive, debilitating treatments for nearly a year, he was totally and completely back “in the game.” He served for seven more years.

I had several assignments with him during those subsequent years. I felt his kindness, compassion, and love. I witnessed his increased spiritual refinement through his ongoing suffering and his continued service as he strove to become like the Savior.