Gospel Story Finder

Sandy Yang, the Beehive president, is also doing her best to be a good example, though she says it is more difficult to share the gospel with her family than with her friends. Her parents divorced when she was eight years old. “It was hard, but I felt the warmth of Jesus Christ, and I knew everything was going to be okay,” she says. “I started to come to church more, and I learned the divorce was not about me. It was about my parents.” Sandy’s father is no longer active in the Church, but her mother and some of her brothers and sisters are. She says it’s her testimony that takes her through the hard times and keeps her coming.

While winging across the South Pacific, an airline stewardess asked me and my wife if we were Mormons after our third serving of milk. Receiving a positive answer, she said with a radiance we shall never forget: “I can hardly wait to get back to California after this trip because I am scheduled for the third discussion from the missionaries, and I already know that it is true.” Yes, she was baptized. She found a young man to match her faith. They have a beautiful little family. They’re on their way.

Prayer also helps in less dramatic ways. Jesús Ruiz, 14, says he often turns to the Lord for help as he weaves fabric. “Sometimes I don’t remember the patterns,” he says, “and I ask the Lord to help me. He always does.”

I thought other youth would be interested in hearing about the Punta Arenas Branch, southernmost branch of the Church in the world, I believe. When Isaiah said, “… utter it even to the end of the earth,” he must have been referring to Punta Arenas, Chile! We’re on the Straights of Magellan, facing Tierra del Fuego. The wildlife and beauty of the Patagonia is outstanding: sharp green mountains, grazed by guanacos; blue waters filled with trout and salmon; and birdlife ranging from parrots to ostriches, ducks, swans, flamingos, and an occasional penguin.
Our branch is at the tender age of four years and has a membership of two hundred Saints. Jaime, our MIA president, and Carlos, an MIA officer, both youth, have been working all year to save enough money to cover their traveling expenses to the international youth conference to be held in Arica, Chile, at the northern end of the country. It’s been a long, hard job, involving window cleaning, cakes sales, and cleaning houses, but they have finally made it. That’s what it means to be a Latter-day Saint down here.
Elder Gary WeldChile Mission

Jotham then gave a sibling perspective, and how he has supported Elder Berry as protector and advocate. Jotham was also able to speak about serving his mission in the Scotland Ireland Mission, and how his experience of growing up with a neurodiverse brother had helped him be more understanding of companions who had ADHD and Autism.

Your answer may not come in one powerful spiritual experience. For me it came quietly at first. But it comes more forcefully each time I have read and prayed about the Book of Mormon.

Once they discovered the approach, the Jacobs sisters used it, with variations, on numerous occasions. For example, eighth-grader Susan spiced up a science lecture on the effects of smoking by dissecting a calf’s heart in class (she had been prepped on where to cut and how the heart worked by George Washington University medical student Milo Andrus, who also supplied surgical gloves and scalpel). Such a graphic presentation by a petite girl made quite an impression on the class—and they got a strong Word-of-Wisdom explanation simultaneously. The grade was A!

One day my family went to a reception. There was a canal behind the home where the reception was being held. After eating refreshments, my brothers, sister, and I went out to jump on the trampoline in the backyard. My mom told me to watch my two-year-old brother, Jadon. We were jumping on the trampoline when I realized that I didn’t know where Jadon was. I had a feeling that I should look over at the fence by the canal. I looked there and saw Jadon climbing over the fence, saying, “Water, water!” I ran over and picked him up. I told him how dangerous it was to go into the canal. I felt good that I had listened to the Holy Ghost.Nicole L., age 10, Idaho

Trent and Carley each tried to be like Jesus Christ at a school carnival.
Carley played a game at the carnival in which if you threw a ball into a certain cup, you won a fish. She won “seven or a lot of fishes.” Another boy, about six years old, won only one fish, and he dropped it. Carley gave him one of hers “because it was the right thing to do.” The boy was very happy, which made Carley feel very good.

When my grandmother left her home in England as a young immigrant, she left everything behind because someone taught her of the gospel of Jesus Christ. She joined the Saints in America and eventually moved to Canada. For fear of being persuaded to remain in England, she did not tell her family of her conversion to the Church or of her plans to leave. That first letter she received from her mother reads in part:
“My dearest daughter … whatever on earth has caused you to go out of your own country and away from all your friends, I cannot imagine. You say, ‘Don’t fret.’ How do you think I can help it when such a blow as that come to struck me all up in a heap? You say you are happy, but I can’t think it, for I am sure I could not have been happy to have gone into a foreign country and left you behind. You say you will come again, but I don’t think you will hesitate your life over the deep waters again. When I think about it, I feel wretched. You had a good place and a good home to come to whenever you liked. And I must say that I loved the very ground you walked upon, and now I am left to fret in this world. But still, all the same for that, I wish you good luck and hope the Lord will prosper you in every way. I remain, your loving Mother.”
They never saw each other again in this earth life. And none of my grandmother’s family joined the Church. However, their temple work has been done for them.

At a school party in Melbourne a few years ago, Emily Denning walked up to Lisa Bignell and said something shocking.

Why was Lisa shocked? Well, the two girls had never been more than just acquaintances, classmates. So you could have knocked Lisa over with a feather when Emily walked up to her and said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this for a while. I want to know more about your church. I want to become a Mormon.”

Lisa says, “I sort of jumped because it was really unexpected. I guess I never thought she’d be interested.”

It turns out that Emily had known for several years that Lisa was LDS. It also happened that Emily had been searching for the right church for about six years. “I was trying to find the truth, something that sounded right to me, not what other people thought I should believe. I wanted to find out for myself,” she says.

Emily visited a number of different churches, but none of them “clicked” as she puts it. In the meantime, Lisa’s family was participating in their ward’s “set-a-date” program (where members are encouraged to set a target date for having someone prepared to receive the missionaries). “We had been praying for a couple of weeks, when Emily came up to me. Because we never really hung around at school together, we didn’t know each other a whole lot. I was shocked, but then I thought immediately, This is an opportunity. I’d better take it.”

So Lisa invited Emily to a fireside where they were showing the film “How Rare a Possession.” Emily says, “I figured, well, there’s only one way to find out if this is right or not. I felt even before I came to church that I was going to join. It was just a feeling I had. When I walked into the chapel, everything just fell into place. I had this really good feeling.”

That good feeling was just reinforced as Emily continued to attend church and firesides and took the missionary lessons. Her only regrets since her baptism? Emily looks at little children in church and sometimes envies them, “growing up in church, with Primary and seminary, Young Women and all the rest of it.” She wishes she had been a member all her life. She knows how she’ll raise her own children someday.

Actually, the missionary work never ends. Emily wants to be married in the temple and raise her children in the Church. Ben plans to go on a mission. At last report Sally was working to introduce a friend to the gospel. But first it has to begin. And it begins with friendship. It begins with letting your membership and your values be known. And it begins with faith that if you do your part, the Lord will do his.

Elyssa also loves her tata (grandpa). When Elyssa was a baby, Tata would play the guitar for her. Later they sang together. Tata was with her a lot because he developed a serious disease and couldn’t go to work. Each day, he picked her up after school and took her to eat at a place of her choice.
Since Tata couldn’t go to work, he did much of the cooking at home and became a really good cook. Elyssa helped him and became a good cook herself. Their specialty was empanadas, a sort of meat pie that is held in one’s hands. Nana remembers her working beside Tata, flour all over her little face.
“They grew very close,” Nana recalls. “She was his life.”

Elder Donald L. Hallstrom
(13) Young Donald L. Hallstrom listens to President David O. McKay in the Honolulu Tabernacle.

Brother and Sister Hansen are good parents. They love their children and spend a lot of time with them. They help them with their schoolwork and encourage them to develop their talents. They have family home evenings and family activities regularly.
But feelings of unity and happiness are often missing in the marriage.
Like many husbands and wives, Brothers and Sister Hansen think that if the children are happy the parents will automatically be happy too—and they invest most of their time and effort in the family. But we’ve found that the reverse can also be true: happy parents generally make happy children.

My mom’s joyous sobs soaked into my shirt as she embraced me. I held her head, the feeling of her hair in my hands waking me to reality: She was really there at the airport to pick me up. And so was Dad. My once young and goofy sister was now a beautiful young woman. My younger brother hugged me, and I had the distinct realization that he was now taller than me. I tried to take everything in. But once the tearful hugs and reunions were over, awkward silence set in. I took a deep breath and asked my family, “So now what?”
Most returned missionaries probably experienced something similar when returning home. Nothing can describe the sweet joy of reuniting with loved ones. But after my initial excitement wore off—when I realized I was home and wasn’t going back to my mission, and when everyone returned to their daily lives—the shock set in. The hard realization that I had to be “normal” again crept in. Yet there was a question in my mind that I think arises in some shape or form for any returned missionary:
How do I be “normal”? And what does “normal” even look like?

My own change of heart started when, as a 12-year-old, I began to search for God. Other than saying the Lord’s Prayer,3 I didn’t really know how to pray. I remember kneeling, hoping I could feel His love, and asking, “Where are You, Heavenly Father? I know You must be out there somewhere, but where?” All through my teen years, I asked. I did have glimpses of the reality of Jesus Christ, but Heavenly Father, in His wisdom, let me seek and wait for 10 years.

In 1970, when the missionaries taught me about the Father’s plan of salvation and of the Savior’s Atonement, my waiting ended. I embraced these truths and was baptized.

It was my father who showed me the way out of my loneliness. He was a Christian with a strong belief in God. One day he was paralyzed by an illness, and doctors told him he would never walk again. But he forced himself to start walking one week later by using a wall for support. “You see,” he told me, “I believe in God, and I know that with His help I can overcome my problems.” His words impressed me, but it would be some time before I realized how strongly rooted in my heart they had become.

I have a brother who was associated with a large university. He told of a student athlete who was an outstanding hurdler. The young man was blind. Rex asked him, “Don’t you ever fall?” “I have to be exact,” the athlete responded. “I measure each time before I jump. One time I didn’t, and I nearly killed myself.” The young man then spoke of the countless hours his father had devoted over the years teaching, helping, and showing him how to hurdle, until he became one of the best.
How could this young man fail with a team like that—a father and a son.

Shortly before I graduated from high school, a seemingly small miracle happened, an event that would turn my life in another direction. Despite the distance between my actions and gospel standards, one Sunday morning I followed a strong prompting to go to church and pay tithing. When I arrived at the chapel, I asked for people I knew. One of the names I gave was the Young Men president I had when I was a deacon, the last time I had attended church. He was now serving as bishop of the ward.
That good bishop helped bring me back into the Church. I confessed my sins, and he worked with me to set up a progress plan. Over several months I repented. I advanced in the priesthood. I held a calling. I was doing so well, in fact, that I was called to serve a mission, and I had a period of several years when my addiction was under control.

“Michael and Carson, I could use your help today,” Dad said, putting on his work shoes. Brian’s older brothers were watching TV, and they hardly moved.
“C’mon, guys,” Dad said. “Hard work is good for you.”
“OK. But what’re we doing anyway?” Michael muttered.
“We’re planting some bushes along the front of the house. I’ll need help digging and hauling dirt. It’ll be fun working together.”
“Doesn’t sound like fun to me,” said Carson.
Brian frowned. He didn’t really want to spend his whole Saturday working either. Plus, it was going to be hot today. But Dad said he needed help. “I’ll help,” Brian said.
“That’s really nice of you, Brian. But the ground is hard clay, so it’s going to be a tough job. And hauling off the dirt won’t be easy with that steep hill next to our house.”
“I can do it,” said Brian.
His older brothers looked at Brian doubtfully. After all, he was only eight years old.
“OK, boys,” said Dad, “let’s get to work.”
Dad was right. The ground was so hard they had to use a pickax to loosen it up. But while Michael and Carson were off tossing dirt at each other, Brian and Dad finished digging the first hole.
Once the wheelbarrow was full, Dad asked Michael to dump it in the woods near the house. To get there he would have to go partway down and across a steep hill.
“I don’t think I can do it,” Michael said, pushing the wheelbarrow only a few feet. “It’s too heavy. I’ll fall down the hill!”
Carson gave it a try next. “Too heavy!” he agreed. “Dad’s the only one strong enough for that.”
That’s when Brian stepped forward. “I can do it,” he said. He lifted with all his might. He started pushing the wheelbarrow forward slowly.
“That’s OK, Brian. I’ll get—” Dad began. But Brian was determined.
“There’s no way you can make it!” said Michael.
As the hill got steeper, Brian got faster and faster. Now he wasn’t pushing the wheelbarrow; it was pulling him! Dad started after him, but Brian held on tight and steered it to the right. He slowed it down just enough to stop it in front of the bushes at the edge of the yard. Then he heaved it over with a mighty shove and dumped the load.
“Whoa!” said Michael.
“No way!” said Carson.
“You definitely win the prize for hardest worker today,” said Dad as Brian climbed back up the hill.
“Phew!” said Brian, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I’m just glad I made it back alive!” Everyone laughed.
When the wheelbarrow was filled again, Michael said, “I’ve got this load.” They all watched as he slowly followed Brian’s pathway down the hill and over to the trees, where he dumped another load of dirt. Michael was breathing hard when he got back.
“That was tough,” Michael said, wiping the sweat from his face. “I still can’t believe you did that all on your own, Brian.”
Sometimes hard work just sounds so hard. But when you finish you feel so good!
“Yeah! How did you do that?” Carson asked, stretching his arms after hauling the next load.
Before too long the new bushes were planted. Brian had never been so hot and sweaty and tired. But he was glad he could do a hard day’s work with his Dad and brothers. It really had been fun working together.