Gospel Story Finder

Born on 6 July 1926 in Salt Lake City, Utah, Neal Ash Maxwell was the oldest of six children. He grew up in a loving family with five uncles determined to make their first nephew into an all-state basketball player. Hoping to play on the famous Granite High School team, Neal worked very hard practicing his basketball skills. Unfortunately, he stopped growing at a critical time and would not reach his adult height until after high school. As he described later, not making the team was his “first real disappointment in life.”1

A beloved hymn states, “The errand of angels is given to women; and this is a gift that, as sisters, we claim.”6 We have much to offer in lives of those we love. Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has shared stories of how the spiritual strength of two women affected his life:
“When I was a young child, my father was not a member of the Church and my mother had become less active. … Some months after my eighth birthday, Grandmother Whittle came across the country to visit us. Grandmother was concerned that neither I nor my older brother had been baptized. I don’t know what she said to my parents about this, but I do know that one morning she took my brother and me to the park and shared with us her feelings about the importance of being baptized and attending Church meetings regularly. I don’t remember the specifics of what she said, but her words stirred something in my heart, and soon my brother and I were baptized. …
“Grandmother used just the right amount of courage and respect to help our father recognize the importance of his driving us to the church for our meetings. In every appropriate way, she helped us to feel a need for the gospel in our lives.”7

Before the temple near their home was dedicated, Olivia invited her grandma to come with her to the temple open house.
I’m happy you came with us to the open house, Grandma.
Thank you for inviting me. I’ve been a little lonely since Grandpa passed away.
I miss him too.
Mom told me that when she and Dad come to the temple, they wear white clothes.
That’s right.
When you turn 12, you’ll get to come here and do baptisms for the dead.
I’m so excited!
Sealings will be performed in this room. Stand in front of this mirror and look at the mirror across the room. What do you see?
It’s as if we go on and on forever.
Just like our family, right? We’ll even see Grandpa again someday.
You’re right. If we keep the commandments, we can be with Grandpa and all of our family because we’ve been sealed in the temple.
Olivia and Grandma followed the tour guide into the temple’s celestial room.
I like how it feels in here. I feel happy.
I do too.
I love the temple, Grandma. Someday, when I’m older, I’ll come back and be married here. I’m happy that our whole family can be together forever—even Grandpa.
That’s right. I’m very thankful for the temple, for the open house, and for you.

It was just before dawn. Slowly the anxious moments ticked by for the American soldiers who waited in boats for the signal that would start their battle. They were trying to take one of the Japanese island bases in the Pacific during World War II. In one of the boats were two young Latter-day Saint marines.
At twenty minutes to six, the signal came to start firing. Suddenly it was as though the island base and all the boats waiting to attack exploded into flame and fire. Dive bombers dropped their loads, machine guns cut down the men who started wading toward shore, and the island base of Kwajalein seemed to heave and roll with the fury of the battle.
The two marines were hit in the first wave of gunfire and one was very badly wounded. The other, who was less seriously hurt, held the head of his comrade above water until help came. Finally, a United Press newspaperman and some medics found them both in the water. They tried to give first aid to the least injured boy, but he refused help until his buddy was checked. The rescuers thought the boy was too badly hurt to ever recover. A war correspondent wrote the rest of the story on February 8, 1944.
“Then it happened. This young man, the stronger of the two, bronzed by the tropical sun, clean as a shark’s tooth in the South Seas, slowly got to his knees. His own arm was nearly gone, but with the other, he lifted the head of his unconscious pal into his lap, placed his good hand on the other’s pale brow and uttered what to us seemed to be incredible words—words that to this moment are emblazoned in unforgettable letters across the doorway of my memory:
“In the name of Jesus Christ, and by virtue of the holy priesthood which I hold, I command you to remain alive until the necessary help can be obtained to secure the preservation of your life.’”
The two young marines were later taken to a hospital with the newspaper reporter who concluded his story in this way:
“The three of us are here in Honolulu and today we walked down the beach together. … He is the wonder of the medical unit, for—they say—he should be dead. Why he isn’t they don’t know—but we do—for we were there, off the shores of Kwajalein.”

One day at the end of November 2000, I went to school and found out that my friend Jonathan B.’s house had burned down during the night. He and his family had gotten out safely, but their house and all the things in it had burned to the ground. I felt very sad for him, and I knew I had to do something to help. I thought about it all that day.
When my mom picked me up from school, I told her what had happened and that I wanted to buy a new backpack and some toys for Jonathan. She said that she would be happy to take me shopping for these things.
When we got home from school, she called my teacher and asked for the phone number and address of Jonathan’s grandma’s house, which is where his family was staying. She then called there and asked if we could come over later and see him. She found some nice clothes that I had outgrown but that were just the right size for him. Then Mom, my sister Michelle, and I went shopping.
I chose a backpack that I knew he would really like. Then I picked out some toys to fill the backpack. I felt really happy when we took everything to Jonathan. He did really like the backpack, and he was happy to have some toys to play with.
His mom hugged me and thanked me for being so kind to him. My mom and dad told me that they were very pleased that I had chosen to do something so nice for somebody else. I knew that the good feelings I had inside were from the Holy Ghost, letting me know that I had done the right thing.

Meagan Hansen (15) remembered the first time her family took him walking at the track. “There is a chain that prevents people from driving cars onto the track. My Dad asked Fernando, ‘How do you get over that?’ ‘I jump,’ he answered. Dad gave him a look, and Fernando said, ‘Seriously.’ So we wheeled him up to the chain and waited to see what he would do. He just lifted the chain up and rolled under it.”

Conner Hansen (8) said, “Sometimes I think my problems are really bad, but when I look at Fernando’s problems, I don’t complain.”

The Hansens add, “No matter what comes up, we don’t miss walking with Fernando. He’s amazing! He helps us keep an eternal perspective. It’s the best thing we do each month.”

Fernando works hard every single day to improve. “I always believed I would get better. I just take it one day at a time.”

“In time he will get better,” Talmage Hansen (11) declared. “He believes it, and so do I.”

Having so many friends in the ward who love and help him, and knowing that he is an invaluable influence in their lives, has helped Fernando continue trying. His strong spirit and testimony have spiritually strengthened those who have helped him strengthen his physical body.

Fernando may have to wait to serve a full-time mission, but he is touching the lives of the Primary children in his ward right now by his example of faith, patience, and trust in the Lord. And they are touching his with their patience, love, and service. “I hope that the children know that they really can help others,” he said.

Isaac could tell that his Primary class was almost over, because he could hear people moving around outside the door. Sure enough, his teacher asked someone to say the prayer.
As soon as he said, “Amen,” Isaac stood up and hurried to the door. He liked his Primary class, but he was always eager to see his mom and dad and little brother, Luke. Before he could open the door, however, his teacher said, “Isaac, would you come here for a minute, please?”
“Sure,” Isaac answered as Sister Nelson called a few more children over to her chair. Sister Nelson held out some little pieces of paper to him and the others. “Will you please give a talk in opening exercises next week?” she asked him.
“Oh, OK.” Isaac was five now, so he could see that his name was written on the paper with a lot of other words. He didn’t try to read them—he was sure they just said stuff about his talk. He had said yes because he always tried to do what his teacher wanted him to do, but he was scared to talk to the whole Primary. He knew that even the youngest children took turns giving talks, scriptures, and prayers, but he couldn’t remember doing any of those before.
He thought about the talks other children had given. Sometimes children read stories for talks, but Isaac couldn’t read that well yet. Some of the other talks were so hard to understand that he forgot to even listen. He couldn’t imagine what kind of a talk he could give when he was only five!
“Oh well,” he said to himself, “maybe she’ll forget she asked me.” He stood in the doorway and soon saw his mom and Luke coming toward him from the nursery room. “Hi, Mom!” he said, giving her a big hug.
“What’s this?” Mom asked, taking the paper out of his hand. “Wow! You get to give a talk next week.”
Isaac tried to smile, and he nodded his head a little. Maybe Mom would forget too, he hoped.
On the way home, Mom told Dad about Isaac’s talk. “How exciting!” Dad said. “We’ll be sure to come hear you, Isaac. Do you want Mom or me to help you give your talk?”
Somebody could help him with his talk? He suddenly felt a lot better about it. “Mom, I guess,” he said.
“OK,” Mom answered. “We’ll start working on it soon.”
Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday went by, and Isaac forgot all about the talk. But on Wednesday, Mom said, “Isaac, let’s get your Primary talk ready!”
“Oh, no!” he said to himself. “She remembered.” He walked slowly over to where Mom sat holding a pen and notebook. His stomach felt funny. “I don’t really want to give a talk, Mom. I don’t know how, and I’m scared.”
“It will be all right. Let’s just talk about it for a minute.” Mom put her arm around his shoulders. “Your talk is supposed to be about faith in Jesus Christ. What do you think faith is?”
Isaac remembered his Primary teacher talking about faith, and Mom and Dad talking about it in family home evening. But he was pretty sure he didn’t know enough about it to give a whole talk. “Is it like praying and keeping the commandments?” he asked, his forehead wrinkled with worry.
Mom wrote something in the notebook. “Sure,” she said. “Why do we pray and keep the commandments?”
“Because Jesus and Heavenly Father want us to.” That was an easy question.
Mom wrote something else down in the notebook. “What happens to your faith when you pray and keep the commandments?”
“It grows.” He remembered his teacher saying that choosing the right helps your faith grow.
“How do you feel when it grows, Isaac? How do you feel when you pray and keep the commandments?”
“Happy!” Isaac wished it was as easy to give a talk about faith as it was to talk with his mom about it.
“Just a few more questions,” Mom said. “Do you believe in Jesus Christ?” When he nodded, Mom asked, “Why?”
“Because the scriptures say He lives.” Isaac had a nice feeling inside when he talked about Jesus. He could feel Jesus loving him. He smiled and leaned against his mom while she wrote.
Suddenly Mom surprised him by saying, “OK! You’ve finished writing your talk! Now let’s practice giving it.”
On Sunday morning, Isaac stepped carefully to the front of the Primary room. He unfolded the paper his mom had written on when she asked him questions. His answers were his talk! He had practiced giving it to Dad a few times. Now Mom moved to his side and began whispering the questions he had answered before. Isaac gave his talk in his very own words:
“Faith in Jesus Christ means praying and keeping the commandments. We pray and keep the commandments because Heavenly Father and Jesus want us to. When we do, our faith grows. I feel happy when I pray and keep the commandments, and my faith grows. I believe in Jesus Christ because the scriptures say He lives. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
He saw Dad smile at him from the back of the room, and everyone was quiet—they had been listening! When he walked past his teacher, he saw that she was happy. He felt really good inside. He had given a talk that was really his, and he was sure that Jesus was happy about it too!

We’ve found this to be true in our own family. When we were first married, Ed would occasionally come home upset about something that happened at work. As he walked in the door, Ann would immediately wonder what she had done to make him irritable. It took many reassurances for her to understand that Ed wasn’t angry with her. We have noticed a similar reaction in our children when the two of us have been disagreeing about something. They seem to feel an element of responsibility for our problems.
By the same token, they seem to feel peaceful and secure when we are on good and friendly terms. And they’re more cooperative and considerate when that’s the feeling of our marriage.

May I share with you a letter from a young man which reflects the spirit of love and which helped to make firm a testimony of the gospel:
“Dear President Monson:
“Thank you for speaking to us at the National Scouting Jamboree held at Fort A. P. Hill, Virginia. On the tour that we took we saw a lot of famous places like Niagara Falls, the Statue of Liberty, the Liberty Bell, and many other places. The one I enjoyed the most was the Sacred Grove. Our parents had written us all letters to read by ourselves while in the grove. After I had finished the letter my parents had written to me, I knelt in prayer. I asked if the Church was really true and if Joseph Smith really did see a vision and is a true prophet of God, and also if President Hinckley is a true prophet of God. Right after I was done praying I felt this feeling of the Spirit that these things were indeed true. I had prayed before about the same things but never received such a powerful answer. There was no way that I could deny that this Church is true or that President Hinckley is a prophet of God.
“I feel so blessed to be a member of this Church. Thanks again for attending the Jamboree.
“Sincerely,
“Chad D. Olson
“P. S. We gave our tour guide and our bus driver a copy of the Book of Mormon with our testimonies in it. They are the greatest! I want to be a missionary.”
Like Joseph Smith, this young man had retired to a sacred grove and prayed for answers to questions phrased by his inquiring mind. Once more a prayer was answered and a confirmation of the truth was gained.

One group of friends found an unusual way to reach out to each other. They came from different family situations and backgrounds, but they all cared about each other and wanted to strengthen their friendship.

One of their friends was having a particularly hard time at home. She told them she sometimes wished she could disappear but kept her feelings hidden behind a smile because she was worried that others would judge her.

Her friends wanted her to know that she was safe with them and that the world was a better place because she was in it. So they came up with a plan: they would wear safety pins. Each of them wore a safety pin on their clothes each day to remind her, and each other, that they were committed to creating a safe, secure, trustworthy friendship—and that they wanted each other to stick around.

Years later, this young woman still remembers her safety-pin friends and is grateful for the security she felt knowing that they cared about her.

Today, let me share a discovery that happened because of a sample group of rabbits.
In the 1970s, researchers set up an experiment to examine the effects of diet on heart health. Over several months, they fed a control group of rabbits a high-fat diet and monitored their blood pressure, heart rate, and cholesterol.
As expected, many of the rabbits showed a buildup of fatty deposits on the inside of their arteries. Yet this was not all! Researchers had discovered something that made little sense. Although all of the rabbits had a buildup, one group surprisingly had as much as 60 percent less than the others. It appeared as though they were looking at two different groups of rabbits.
To scientists, results like this can cause lost sleep. How could this be? The rabbits were all the same breed from New Zealand, from a virtually identical gene pool. They each received equal amounts of the same food.
What could this mean?
Did the results invalidate the study? Were there flaws in the experiment design?
The scientists struggled to understand this unexpected outcome!
Eventually, they turned their attention to the research staff. Was it possible that researchers had done something to influence the results? As they pursued this, they discovered that every rabbit with fewer fatty deposits had been under the care of one researcher. She fed the rabbits the same food as everyone else. But, as one scientist reported, “she was an unusually kind and caring individual.” When she fed the rabbits, “she talked to them, cuddled and petted them. … ‘She couldn’t help it. It’s just how she was.’”
She did more than simply give the rabbits food. She gave them love!
At first glance, it seemed unlikely that this could be the reason for the dramatic difference, but the research team could see no other possibility.
So they repeated the experiment—this time tightly controlling for every other variable. When they analyzed the results, the same thing happened! The rabbits under the care of the loving researcher had significantly higher health outcomes.
The scientists published the results of this study in the prestigious journal Science.
Years later the findings of this experiment still seem influential in the medical community. In recent years, Dr. Kelli Harding published a book titled The Rabbit Effect that takes its name from the experiment. Her conclusion: “Take a rabbit with an unhealthy lifestyle. Talk to it. Hold it. Give it affection. … The relationship made a difference. … Ultimately,” she concludes, “what affects our health in the most meaningful ways has as much to do with how we treat one another, how we live, and how we think about what it means to be human.”

Let us conclude where we began: a compassionate caregiver, extending herself in kindness with a nurturing spirit, and an unexpected outcome—healing the hearts of animals over whom she had stewardship. Why? Because it was just how she was!

It all started when, during one of her hospital stays, Brittany began drawing funny, chaotic cartoon scenes and posting them on her door. One scene featured a carnival with roller coasters, bumper cars, a person stuck in a fake cannon, and even someone getting buried by an out-of-control cotton-candy machine. Another showed different events in the hospital, including a patient escaping in a wheelchair.
Children especially loved her drawings, and all sorts of people would stop at her door to smile and laugh. Brittany ended up making copies of these drawings so the hospital could put them up on the walls. She’d found that something she did for fun could provide a way to bless others.

I first went to the temple fifty-seven years ago. It was different from any other experience I had had in the Church. A young man of my association went about the same time. Thereafter, he was wont to use phrases from the language of the temple in a frivolous way. It was offensive. It was a betrayal of a sacred trust. I have watched him through the years. Once faithful, he has drifted from all Church activity and forsaken the faith of his fathers. I think that much of what has happened to him began with that small irreverential thing that he did in trivializing language which is not trivial.

Second, when we struggle with our own identity and lack of self-esteem, the “pleasing word of God” (Jacob 2:8) in the scriptures will help us know who we really are and give us strength beyond our own. Recognizing my identity as God’s child was one of the sweetest moments I have ever experienced. In my early teenage years, I did not know anything about the teachings of the Savior. When I first read the New Testament, the words of Christ truly healed my wounded soul. I realized I was not alone and that I am a child of God. As I recognized my true identity before God, I realized my infinite potential through Christ’s Atonement.

It was my privilege just over a month ago to dedicate the Gilbert Arizona Temple, a magnificent structure. The evening before the dedication, a cultural event was held at the nearby Discovery Park. Twelve thousand young people performed a 90-minute program. The dancing, the singing, and the musical performances were outstanding.
This area had been experiencing an especially dry season, and I believe many prayers had been sent heavenward over the preceding several weeks for much-needed rain. Unfortunately, it came just before the performance and stayed for the entire production! Despite the fact that the youth were soaked through with the rain and chilled from the cool temperature, we all felt the Spirit of the Lord. The theme of the program, “Live True to the Faith”—think about that: “Live True to the Faith”—was portrayed magnificently by smiling and enthusiastic young men and young women. Despite the cold and the rain, this was a faith-filled and inspiring experience these young people will ever treasure and will be relating to their children and grandchildren in the years to come.

One warm summer afternoon a tiny girl reached on tiptoes to ring a doorbell. After a moment the door swung wide and there stood a beautiful twenty-year-old princess with golden hair and large, expressive blue eyes. To a small child she might have been Cinderella. But this princess was taller, more regal than any pictures of the cinder girl. And she was as real as her name—Sally Peterson.
“Elizabeth!” Sally smiled down at her little visitor. “How wonderful to see you! Come in! Come in!”
“I just brought you this,” the little girl beamed, as she thrust forward a letter, then turned happily and walked down the stairs murmuring, “Now that wasn’t one bit scary.”
It wasn’t scary. And it shouldn’t have been. Sally was her special friend. As Junior Sunday School chorister, Sally had taught songs to Elizabeth and many others like her over a period of five years. But now she wasn’t “Sally our song-leader”; she was Miss Utah of 1972. And one small girl expressed the feelings of many:
Dear Sally
I love you
Love
From Elizabeth

When Joseph Smith, Sr., was dying, his children gathered to receive his final blessing. After first blessing his wife, Father Smith began with Hyrum, his eldest, and gave each child what he called a “dying blessing” (see Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, ed. Preston Nibley, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1956, pp. 308–13; Pearson H. Corbett, Hyrum Smith, Patriarch, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1963, pp. 240–41).

For 50 years, another sister yearned for a relationship with her father. “Growing up,” she says, “there were my brothers and my dad, and then there was me—the only daughter. All I ever wanted was to be ‘good enough’ for my dad.
“Then my mom passed away! She was my only liaison between my dad and me.
“One day,” the sister said, “I heard a voice say, ‘Invite your dad and take him to the temple with you.’ That was the beginning of a twice-a-month date with my daddy to the house of the Lord. I told my dad I loved him. He told me he loved me too.
“Spending time in the house of the Lord has healed us. My mom could not help us on earth. It took her being on the other side of the veil to help mend what was broken. The temple completed our journey to wholeness as an eternal family.”
The father says, “The temple dedication was a great spiritual experience for me and my only daughter. Now we attend together and feel our love strengthen.”

Jeffrey sat on the front steps of his new house. It was a hot summer day.
He watched the children speed by on their skates. He wondered how he could be their friend.
“I need a stop sign,” Jeffrey told his mom. “Let’s stir one up,” Mom said.
They went inside the house and found a pitcher.
Jeffrey put water, lemon juice, sugar, and ice in the pitcher. Then he stirred everything together.
Mom got a big piece of paper. She helped him write “Free Lemonade” on it.
They put a little table on the driveway. Jeffrey poured lemonade in the cups. Mom hung up the sign.
When the thirsty children skated by, they stopped for a cool drink.
Jeffrey smiled and said, “Hello, I’m Jeffrey.” Now he had lots of new friends.

During World War II, as a teenager I was privileged to serve as president of the teachers quorum. I was asked to learn and then apply the counsel from the Doctrine and Covenants, section 107, verse 86: “The duty of the president over the office of the teachers is to preside over … the teachers, and to sit in council with them, teaching them the duties of their office, as given in the covenants.” I tried my best to live up to this defined duty.
In that quorum was a young man, Fritz Hoerold. He was short in stature but tall on courage. Soon after Fritz turned 17, he enlisted in the United States Navy and was off to training. He then found himself on a large battleship in a number of those bloody engagements in the Pacific. His ship was severely damaged, and many sailors were killed or wounded.
Fritz returned home on leave following such an engagement and came back to our teachers quorum. The quorum adviser invited him to speak to us. My, he looked resplendent in his Navy blues with appropriate war ribbons attached. I remember that I asked Fritz to tell us any thoughts he had for our benefit. After all, we were about the same age. With a wry smile, he responded, “Don’t volunteer for anything!”
I didn’t see Fritz again from that time when we were 17 until, a few years ago, I read a magazine article concerning those same battles at sea. I wondered if Fritz Hoerold were even still alive and if so, if he lived somewhere in Salt Lake City. Through a telephone call I found him and sent the magazine to him. He and his wife expressed to me their thanks. Having learned that Fritz had not as yet been ordained an elder and hence had never been to the temple, I wrote a letter encouraging him to qualify for the blessings of the temple. On two occasions we happened to see one another at restaurants. His dear wife, Joyce, always urged me, “Keep working with this man of mine.” His daughters voiced their approval of their mother’s urging. I kept up my encouragement.
Just a few weeks ago, I saw in the newspaper obituary columns that Joyce, Fritz’s wife, had passed away. How I wished that I had been more successful with my private project to get Fritz to the temple. I noted the time and place of Sister Hoerold’s funeral service, rescheduled other appointments, and went to the service. Immediately upon seeing me, Fritz made a beeline to my side. We both shed a few tears. He asked me to be the final speaker.
When I arose to speak, I looked at Fritz and his family and said, “Fritz, I am here today as the president of the teachers quorum of which you and I were once members.” I proffered how he and his family could become a “forever family” through temple ordinances—ordinances at which I pledged to officiate when that time came.
I concluded my remarks, choking back the tears of emotion, by saying to Fritz in the hearing and view of his family and all in attendance, “Fritz, my dear friend and fellow sailor, you have courage, you have determination. You put your life on the line for your country in a time of peril. Now, Fritz, you must heed the call of the bos’n’s whistle: ‘All aboard—anchors aweigh’—for your journey to exaltation. Joyce is there waiting for you. I know your dear children and grandchildren are praying for you. Fritz, as your teachers quorum president of long ago, I will strive with all my heart and soul to make certain you don’t miss the ship that will carry you and your loved ones to celestial glory.”
I gave to him a Navy salute. Fritz stood and returned the salute.