Gospel Story Finder

Water. It was always water for him. Once, when he was ten, he had tried to walk on the lake water. Lying on his back on the dock near his parents’ old cabin on the lake, he had become curious with the possibilities of faith. He had heard the story countless times in his Methodist Sunday School of the Savior walking on the water, but now his wondering made him restless. If he had enough faith, would the substanceless substance become firm beneath him? He stepped confidently out, then fell clumsily into the water.

I once read a book about a pioneer girl who traveled across the plains with a Mormon wagon train. All she could take with her were a few articles of clothing and her special box of small treasures. Her many dolls and toys she had to leave behind. Included in her special box were some material scraps, a packet of precious needles, several buttons, and two spools of thread.
The girl was very brave and very clever. She knew it didn’t matter that she had to leave her dolls behind, because she could always make some new, even better ones, if she had the materials. She and her family finally arrived safely in Utah. When the girl wasn’t helping her mother and father, she started making her own toys in her spare time.

One autumn morning as Ellen and the other children had gone to the woods to gather nuts, they were startled by the booming of the cannon from the top of Fort Hill. Kathrine Howard came racing across the meadow, calling and beckoning to them.
“What is it, Mama?” cried Ellen, running to meet her.
“A tall white sail has been sighted off Cape Cod. It’s heading for Plymouth. Governor Bradford fears it may be a French vessel coming to raid us.”
“Where’s Papa?”
“Captain Standish has marshaled every man and boy who can handle a gun,” Kathrine panted.
The vessel, when she hove into sight, ran up a white flag bearing the red cross of the English. A cry of joy went up from the anxiously watching crowd, and everyone raced for the shore. When the first little boat with its passengers ran aground, Ellen rushed into the shallow water.
“Sarah! Roger!” she cried as her sister and brother alighted.
The tears, laughter, and hugging at this joyous reunion were quite a contrast to the sadness at the time of their parting.
The ship, Fortune, with the thirty-five men, women, and children who had come to live in Plymouth, dropped anchor in her harbor just a little less than a year after the Mayflower had anchored at Cape Cod. One of the first to come ashore was Deacon Robert Cushman, who brought with him formal legal rights to the land the settlers now occupied.

For Paul Allen and Jeanine Bryan, the Junior Life Guard program is even more than that. It’s a ticket to Australia, where they’ll participate in junior guard competition with the teams down under.
Paul and Jeanine are members of the elite “Captains,” the highest level in the junior guard program, which is divided into groups based on age and ability. The top members of the program were chosen, based on their athletic ability and citizenship, to make up the Junior Guard Educational Exchange—the 16-member group traveling to Australia.
To be Captains, Jeanine and Paul had to be at least 14 years old; be certified by the Red Cross in standard first aid, CPR, and personal safety; swim around the pier, battling waves and currents, in less than 15 minutes; be able to complete a two-mile beach run in under 15 minutes; and swim a mile in less than 30 minutes, to name a few of the requirements.
There are no exceptions made for Jeanine because she is a female. She must meet the same demands as Paul.
For Paul, the junior guard program could also provide a way to finance his mission. If he is good enough, he can work as a lifeguard during the summer after he turns 17. He’s planning to put the money he makes in a mission fund.
Of course, the youth in the junior guard program don’t spend all their time conditioning. Sometimes they listen to lectures on lifesaving techniques, and they receive complete training in cardiopulmonary resuscitation and first aid. Then there are the games, which include relays, tugs-of-war, water tag, Red Rover, and many more.
They also learn about the tides, waves, and basic beach training. “My kids are safer at the beach than I am,” says Caroline Allen, who has two sons and a daughter in the program. “They really know what to do. They can stand out on the shore, watch the waves, and say ‘Look Mom, there’s a riptide out there.’”
They learn from practical experience once they become Captains. They spend two hours, every other day, assisting the full-time lifeguards in the tower. “If a lifeguard goes out on a rescue, we’re supposed to go out there with him,” says Paul, who says he’s used prayer more than once to help him battle the waves.
Gospel teachings, in fact, have helped many of the LDS youth involved in junior guards. In order to be selected for the Australia trip, Paul and Jeanine had to go through a series of interviews, and their Church interview experience was a great asset, they said.
Paul, who earned his Eagle Scout Award two summers ago, says that the leadership training he received at Church has helped him too. He talks about the time when the Captains were in charge of doing the cooking for a hot-dog roast held for the junior guards and their families. The Captains were responsible for feeding about 7,000 people in all. “My Church experience really helped me to work with people and helped me know how to suggest to people what to do and when to do it,” he said.
Likewise, the junior guard program has been known to help the youth with their Church work. Just ask Bruce Johnston, of the Fountain Valley First Ward, Huntington Beach Stake. Bruce was involved in the junior guard program and later served in the Italy Catania Mission. He is now a junior guard instructor. “The program helped me with my mission preparation because it was very discipline oriented, just like the mission field. It stressed the importance of obeying rules.”
“It also gives you a sense of self-confidence, by helping you know that you can accomplish something that’s really hard for you,” said Jeanine.
One of the hardest things the Captains accomplished last summer was a 24-mile run, swim, run. They started by scrambling over the rocks and through the tide pools of Laguna Beach, dived into the ocean and swam across a cove, then ran to the Newport Jetty and crossed it together so they’d be highly visible to the boats that also cross. On the other side of the jetty, they ran to the Balboa Pier and swam around it. Then they hustled over the sand to the Newport pier, where they swam out to a buoy, rather than around the pier. There are so many fishermen casting lines off the Newport Pier that the swimmers would be sure to get tangled in them. From then on, it was a clean break across the beach to home territory. Once they hit Huntington Beach they swam around the pier, and the marathon was over.
Paul finished about a half hour ahead of everyone else, possibly thanks to his workouts with the Marina High swim team, where he was voted most valuable swimmer as a junior. Or maybe it was his experience on the cross-country team that helped.
But, he adds, following the Word of Wisdom doesn’t hurt either. “Since I don’t drink or smoke, I feel clean,” he says. “I don’t have bad lungs, so I can keep running and swimming and be in good shape.”
On almost every coast in the country, LDS youth are staying in good shape via similar lifeguard programs, and there’s even a program based at a lake in Idaho. On occasion, the groups come together for competition.
That’s another point the kids like about the program. “You get to meet all sorts of people and make new friends,” says Alison Brown, 14, of the Huntington Beach Sixth Ward, Huntington Beach North Stake.
Each swimmer probably has a different reason for joining, but they all come out with one thing in common, according to Coach Eich. “Respect is the key word,” he says. “We try to teach them respect for the ocean, respect for the environment, and respect for themselves.”
All that, plus sand, surf, and sun? Not only are these kids spending their long summer hours learning how to save lives, but they’re saving a summerful of memories as well.

I discovered file-sharing software as a college freshman, and, however innocently, I quickly got caught up in the world of free downloads. I thought that since it was so easy, and seemingly without penalties, it was harmless. Before long, my hard drive was jammed with almost 1,000 of my favorite songs.

Then I started to wonder about the collection of songs on my computer. Every time I listened to them, I felt guilty for enjoying something I hadn’t paid for. As much as I loved my music, I just couldn’t feel right about keeping it. I finally deleted the software.

A few months later, I heard rumors that the record labels were filing lawsuits against people who used the same file-sharing software I had just removed. Some people were being fined more than $100,000! I couldn’t believe it.

After the shock wore off, I realized just how serious music pirating is. Fortunately, I had removed all my files before the legal battles began, so I didn’t have to worry about paying monetary damages. But I realized that I hadn’t gotten away without damaging my spirit. I had known stealing was wrong since I was a child, and yet I had convinced myself that somehow this was different.

But what can we do when those inevitable moments of loneliness or discouragement creep in? Earlier this month, I experienced one of my rare, brief periods of depression. The loneliness I felt was almost unendurable. The neighbors were home and—as I had done so many times in the past—I sought the comforting warmth of their friendship. I was uplifted through the loving concern of these cherished friends and neighbors and discovered a simple truth: In our hours of need, there are loving hands around us to uplift, strengthen and assist us. Look around. I promise you they are there.

Whether we accept the fact or not, we are different from the world if we are living what we believe. Let me tell you about two of our missionaries.
It was the dinner hour, and it was raining without any sign of stopping. In spite of the rain, these two missionaries continued tracting. But let the father in one of these homes tell what happened that night:
“I had come home from work tired and hungry and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. I might also add that I dislike ‘door knockers’ and salesmen.
“I had just sat down to my dinner when the knock on the door came. I don’t know what I expected to find at the door, but I didn’t intend to be very pleasant about the disturbances at this particular hour.
“Perhaps I was too stunned at first to be angry, but for some reason or other I did not slam the door in their faces. There in the doorway stood two young men, smiling from ear to ear and literally beaming as they told me that they had a special message for me and my family. I still don’t know what prompted me to invite them to come in, except that there was something very special about them. There was a certain quality about them that I had never experienced before.
“I can tell you that when I invited them to come into our home. I also invited the greatest blessings that have ever come into my life and the life of my family. Yes, we were all baptized into the LDS church.”

Behind the auditorium was a doubly large cultural hall, with offices and rooms off to one side. Shirley Rudd found herself cornered back in those inner reaches of the huge building. She was the one who changed all the bouncy, modern, wedge haircuts to 19th century pioneer bobs at the nap of the neck.
“At first I had to do 40 or 50 hairdos—that was during dress rehearsal. Then most of the kids got the idea and started doing their own hair. By closing night, I just did a few repair jobs, helped some of the guys change from young, black-haired dancers to powdered-haired grandpas for different scenes, and that was it.”

Eleven years after her mother’s death, Sonora (now married to John Bruce Dodd) sat in church listening to a Mother’s Day message. It was a wonderful talk about the role of mothers, but she noticed that the word father was never mentioned. When Sonora thought of the sacrifices that her father had made, she felt that it was only fair that fathers be recognized in a like manner. After the meeting she approached the speaker and asked, “Don’t you think that fathers should have a special day of recognition too?” With that question, Sonora Dodd began gaining support for her Father’s Day idea.

The Holy Ghost also confirms the truthfulness of the scriptures and prophets. When Sister Flori Cobo de Lumbreras of Cádiz, Spain, read the Book of Mormon, she “had strong desires to ask God if this book was true, if Joseph Smith was truly a prophet, and if God wanted me to join the Church.
“I tossed and turned in bed, disturbed for four or five hours, and finally knelt at the side of my bed and began to raise my voice to my Father. The answer came with great strength to my heart. What joy! What peace! A warm feeling covered me.”

Driving to the Los Angeles Airport with a busy radio executive, I learned that he and his wife, though born in the Church, had never participated. Their social life of parties and weekends for fun and escape dominated their lives.
After eight years of marriage and three children, they were becoming concerned about their lives but did nothing about it.
Different sets of home teachers came and went. A new home teacher—a true shepherd—came into their lives, and after a time this new home teacher committed this man to go to Church once. Brother Adamson said he would not give up smoking and drinking. He had made a firm resolve not to live the Word of Wisdom, and if he was not welcome in Church because of it, that was fine. The home teacher said, “You are welcome, and I will pick you up.”
The first Sunday Brother Adamson attended Church he waited for someone to move away from him because of the strong tobacco odor, but that didn’t happen. “They will ask me to pray or work in the Church,” he thought. That didn’t happen either.
The home teacher did not phone on Sunday mornings to give him a chance to make an excuse and back out but drove to his home and would say, “Are you ready?” This home teacher picked him up every Sunday for over a year.
The Adamsons began reading A Marvelous Work and a Wonder and found that the Church consisted of much more than just the Word of Wisdom, which he had heard so much about all his life (and because he didn’t live the Word of Wisdom, felt the Church had nothing to offer him).
This couple soon learned it is a Church of love, not a Church of fear. They learned of the mission of the Savior and of our Heavenly Father and of repentance. They became so proud of the Church they had been born into that the Word of Wisdom no longer was an important issue. He didn’t go through the pangs of quitting. It just happened. There were so many other principles of the gospel that now were so important in their lives.
He said, “I found myself working on our new chapel and then one day quietly telling the bishop, ‘I’m ready, now. You can call on me to pray.’”

Imagine my surprise when I returned to Cannes in the 1990s with my wife, Kathleen, to find a new Latter-day Saint chapel in Le Cannet, a choice neighborhood on the slopes overlooking Cannes. It accommodated a vibrant and overflowing ward anticipating a split. When the congregation heard the humble story of my time in Cannes, we were cornered by three grandmothers who had joined the Church in the 1960s.
“If the Cannes Branch had not remained open,” they told us, “we would never have known about the Restoration of Christ’s Church! Now we all have grandsons serving in the mission field.”
As we rejoiced together at the happy result of keeping the branch open, a distinguished gentleman joined us who had overheard our conversation.
“I am Brother Paya, and I too joined the Church in Cannes in the 1960s,” he said. “I was the former bishop here, president of the Nice Stake, and a mission president in Spain.”
Later, Brother Paya became president of the Madrid Spain Temple and an Area Seventy. We all wept with joy upon hearing their stories.
What a tender mercy of the Lord for me to learn that our missionary work on the French Riviera was not in vain, as I had supposed for so many years. The Lord carefully oversees our labors and blesses them with success, though we cannot foresee the future outcome as He does.

A true story from the USA.
“Are we there yet?” Justina asked.
“Almost,” Grandma said. The car turned around the corner, and there it was! The temple stood tall on the hill. It was so beautiful!
Justina and her family were here for the temple dedication. Mom said it was an important meeting where an Apostle would give a special prayer inside the temple. Then the temple would be ready for Church members to perform ordinances inside. “Temple dedications are broadcasted so members of the Church can watch them from their church buildings,” Mom explained. “But we are lucky to be able to attend the dedication inside the temple.”
Outside the temple doors, they were given white plastic covers to put on their shoes. Justina thought they looked silly. “Why do we have to wear these?” she asked Grandma.
“They protect the new carpets,” whispered Grandma. “Remember, we need to whisper inside the temple, OK? We want to be reverent in the Lord’s house.”
As they walked through the temple, Justina stared up at the high ceilings. It was so quiet that she wanted to walk on her tippy-toes and hold her breath. She was amazed when they began to walk up a spiral staircase. The stairs seemed to go on forever.
Finally they arrived at the room where her family would watch the dedication. “This is called a sealing room,” Grandma said quietly. “Do you know what happens here?”
Justina shook her head no.
“This is where families are sealed together forever. That means they can live together in heaven after they die. Look at the mirrors.” Grandma pointed to mirrors on both sides of the room. “See what happens when you look at your reflection?”
Justina looked in one of the mirrors and saw her reflection repeated over and over.
“Wow,” Justina said, making sure to whisper this time. “It goes on forever.”
As the dedication began, Justina thought about her family. Her parents were divorced. And she knew they hadn’t been sealed in the temple.
She looked at her mom and siblings sitting next to her. Would she get to be together with them in heaven? What if I can’t be with my family forever because we’re not sealed? That thought made her feel scared and worried.
Justina leaned close to Grandma and asked, “What happens if you aren’t sealed to your family?”
Grandma thought for a minute. Then she said, “I don’t really know, honey. But I do know that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”
Justina thought about that as she listened to the next speaker. Soon the dedication was almost over. It was time to sing “The Spirit of God.”
As Justina stood and sang, she felt a warm feeling in her heart. She knew the Holy Ghost was telling her that everything would be OK. She felt like her faith was growing.
When the song ended, Justina gave Grandma a hug. She didn’t have all the answers, but she had faith that God loved her and her family very much. She knew she could trust Him.

For me as a young teenager, school was about putting on an act. You know, the way the bad guy in the movies delivers the smooth, clever lines and comes off super cool in the process? I yearned to be able to do that. I tried to rule the screen just like the best of the bad guys. I pretended my morals were low because I wanted to impress my friends at school. I loved the sound of laughter when I used inappropriate language or joked about people.
I wanted to be the one audiences rooted for. So I figured out how to be a people pleaser. I became a regular comedy act in my biology class, managed to convince my volleyball team I was a party animal, and demolished my reputation as an innocent, naive young woman. I thought, “I don’t want my friends to think I’m a goody-goody!”
Since I wasn’t actually committing the serious sins people thought I was, I desperately tried to convince myself that it was OK to have a rough attitude. I was so wrong! My real-life movie-screen hit reached the point that I couldn’t stand to watch it myself. The more popular I became, the less I liked the character I played.
One day, two of my friends were talking about a sweet, friendly athlete named Jennifer who wasn’t embarrassed to stand up for her beliefs. One of my friends, the most gorgeous, popular, and smartest girl in the seventh grade, said, “Jennifer is so different. I wish I was brave enough to believe in my church like she does. She’s the only person I know who lives her life like that.” I was stunned.
“How could she say something like that without even mentioning me?” I wondered. “After all, my church has high standards!” I was furious that she hadn’t even considered me a good example. Then, suddenly, I felt like I was sitting on the front row of a movie theater showing my life as the main feature.
I reflected on the poor example I had been to my friends. What kind of kid was going to watch me and think, “I wish I was brave and unique like her”? I really disliked who I had become.
Changing my character and reputation was a long process, and I’m still trying to keep my mouth shut instead of blurting out crowd-pleasing insults. But I realized I could make my friends laugh without hurting someone else’s feelings, and I could leave the room during a crude joke without being ridiculed. No one has to be a “bad guy” to have lots of friends. I changed my attitudes and behaviors because being at peace with what I believe is so much cooler than trying to hide who I am.

My son Taylor (Elder Mulford) is serving a mission on the island of Bora Bora in Tahiti. He told me that not long ago the stake president came out to Bora Bora and told the missionaries about how he had visited a barber, who was a member, for a haircut. He asked the barber why there were no Liahona magazines among the others he had for patrons to read. The barber promised him that the next time he came, there would be Liahonas there. However, the next time the stake president went to the barber, there were still no Liahonas. Disappointed, he asked the barber why. The barber explained that each time he put a Liahona out, someone would read it, ask him many questions, and then ask if he could keep the magazine. The barber said he had no more magazines to give away, but he added that many of the people who took the magazines were taking the missionary discussions.

Brethren, as we learn our duty and magnify the callings which have come to us, the Lord will guide our efforts and touch the hearts of those whom we serve.

Many years ago, I would visit an older widow named Mattie, whom I had known for many years and whose bishop I had been. My heart grieved at her utter loneliness. A precious son of hers lived many miles away, and for years he had not visited his mother. Mattie spent long hours in a lonely vigil at her front window. Behind a frayed and frequently opened curtain, the disappointed mother would say to herself, “Dick will come; Dick will come.”

But Dick didn’t come. The years passed by one after another. Then, like a ray of sunshine, Church activity came into the life of Dick, one of my former Aaronic Priesthood boys, who now lived in Houston, Texas, far away from his mother. He journeyed to Salt Lake to visit with me. He telephoned upon his arrival and, with excitement, reported the change in his life. He asked if I had time to see him if he were to come directly to my office. My response was one of gladness. However, I said, “Dick, first visit your mother, and then come to see me.” He gladly complied with my request.

Before he could get to my office, there came a phone call from Mattie, his mother. From a joyful heart came words punctuated by tears: “Bishop, I knew Dick would come. I told you he would. I saw him coming through the window.”

Not many years later at Mattie’s funeral, Dick and I spoke tenderly of that experience. We had witnessed a glimpse of God’s healing power through the window of a mother’s faith in her son.

Many children, and some adults, may for personal reasons find a 24-hour fast difficult. It can be, in the words of Isaiah, felt that the fast has “afflicted [their] soul.” Wise parents recognize that possibility and so are careful to follow the counsel of President Joseph F. Smith: “Better to teach them the principle, and let them observe it when they are old enough to choose intelligently.”
I saw the blessing in that counsel recently. One of my grandsons had found a 24-hour fast beyond his powers of endurance. But his wise parents still placed the principle in his heart. One of his school friends recently lost a young cousin to accidental death. My grandson asked his mother on fast day, at about the time he had always felt the fast was too hard to continue, whether it would make his grieving friend feel better if he continued his fast.
His question was the confirmation of President Joseph F. Smith’s counsel. My grandson had come to the point where he not only understood the principle of the fast, but it had also been planted in his heart. He had come to feel that his fasting and prayers would lead to a blessing from God for someone in need. If he lives the principle often enough, it will bring the wonderful effects in his own life, as promised by the Lord. He will have the spiritual blessing of power to receive inspiration and greater capacity to resist temptation.

Brother Snederfler recalls another unforgettable moment: On 20 May 1991, the phone rang. The caller was President Thomas S. Monson, then Second Counselor in the First Presidency. “He said: ‘Jirí, you have been called as the president of the Freiberg temple. You will begin this office on 1 September of this year. What do you say?’ At first I was not able to say anything at all because of my astonishment. President Monson inquired, ‘Are you there, Jirí?’ I told President Monson, ‘I accept humbly this calling.’”

In the temple, the Snederflers opened prison doors to generations of deceased persons who had never had an opportunity to hear the gospel. And they also opened temple doors to patrons who—having had no religious freedom—had languished in spiritual darkness on earth. They welcomed members of the Church from such former Communist nations as Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Croatia, Poland, Hungary, the Czech and Slovak Republics, and the DDR.

“It is so, so good to be in the temple,” Sister Snederfl er says simply. After four years of faithful service there, the Snederflers have returned home to Prague to continue family history research so that more of their own ancestors may enjoy temple blessings.

A young mother knelt beside her three-year-old and listened to his heartfelt bedtime prayer. As he gave thanks for his big brother, for snow, for clouds, and for pizza, she tried to remember the last time she had thanked the Lord for such things. She realized that, although she always thanked our Heavenly Father for health, family, and the gospel, she had forgotten to remember the plain, the ordinary, the simple blessings of her own life. When she began expressing daily gratitude for all these blessings, she saw the world with new eyes. She found that grief and hardship became easier to bear and that she was spiritually nourished (see Lisa Ray Turner, Ensign, July 1992, pages 51–52).

Photographs by Richard M. Romney
This whole family from Alberta, Canada, loves sports. “Name a game and a time,” says 15-year-old Halle, “and we’ll be there.” For example, during baseball season, you’ll find the whole family at the ball field. That’s where the oldest brother, Ty, 18, helps coach the team his 10-year-old sister, Skye, plays on.
But when the family is at the ballpark—or anywhere else for that matter—you’ll notice something that sets them apart from a typical sports-oriented family. At least one family member is always watching over the youngest sibling, seven-year-old Grady. It’s not just a matter of keeping an eye on him; he requires constant attention.
Grady was born with a condition that still defies medical diagnosis. He can’t form words but continually cries out and makes loud noises. He wears a bib because he constantly drools. And he likes to touch and feel everything, often placing dirt or other foreign objects in his mouth. So he has to be watched, closely and constantly, for his own safety.
“Whatever we do as a family, Grady comes along,” says Halle, 15. At the baseball game, for example, Halle and Kamree, 13, take turns watching Grady while Mom and Dad cheer for Ty and Skye.
“Grady loves the playground by the ball field,” Kamree says. “We stay with him while he has fun, and Mom and Dad are right there if we need help.”
“Our family is a team,” Ty says after the game. “So we take turns helping Mom and Dad with Grady. It brings us closer together to know we’re helping them and helping him.”
At a recent home evening, the family challenged each other to make a list of “Seven Ways to Win as a Family.” Here’s what they came up with:
Give lots of assists. “Whenever you can help, then help,” says Halle. “It isn’t about whose turn it is. It’s about, ‘What can I do to make things better?’”
Listen to the coaches. “Mom and Dad give you good advice,” says Ty. “So do Church leaders. They’re all cheering for your success, and they can help you to avoid or recover from spiritual injuries.”
Be a good sport. “Everybody makes mistakes,” Skye says. “So learn to forgive each other and move on.”
Play together. “Find things you like to do together,” says Kamree. “For us, it’s sports, but for your family it could be board games or videos. The point is to have fun so that there’s less stress.”
Pray together. “It’s a great way to work on your game plan for life,” Mom says. “You feel more like a family when you kneel together, thank Heavenly Father for each other, and ask for His help.”
Call a time out. “If there are fights or disagreements,” Dad says, “sometimes the best thing is to take a break. Cool down and remember you’re all on the same side.”
Practice, practice, practice. Just like in sports, success comes with sustained effort over time. “Talking about the gospel, reading scriptures together, going to church together—it all helps,” says Kamree. “Each of us brings something to the team effort,” says Mom. “And each of us helps carry some of the weight,” says Dad.
They also have some fun talking about what MVP might mean for a family. Maybe it’s Most Valuable Parents—that’s what the children think of Mom and Dad. Maybe it means Most Valuable Prayer—that’s what family prayer feels like sometimes. But they finally decide that for them, it means Most Valuable Person—and they all agree that for their family, that is Grady.
“I love being with my family,” says Halle. “And I love being with Grady.” She says her little brother has helped all of the family to see from a more eternal perspective. “Someday,” she says, “when we meet Grady in heaven, he will be in perfect form. He’ll be strong and healthy and he’ll know so many things. I will want to ask him what he was thinking during his time on earth.”
“Brothers and sisters are like built-in friends,” Kamree says. “We’re here to help each other. I think Grady is here to remind us of that.”
Mom, Dad, Ty, Halle, Kamree, Skye, and Grady. This family is like a lot of other families—most of the time they get along great, and occasionally they have to work their way through a squabble or two.
But there’s one thing they never disagree about, and that’s their love for each other. And that makes every member of the team a winner.