Gospel Story Finder

After reading “Is There Life after Young Women?” in the July 1987 issue, I had my first experience in Relief Society. In the article it mentioned visiting teaching, so I gave the Relief Society president my schedule so she could assign me to visit four special sisters in my ward. I know I will probably get more out of my visits with these sisters than they will. I have a feeling that I won’t be sitting dormant long, because my best friend (who also is my mother) has told me that the Relief Society president can’t wait to put me to work. It makes me feel so wanted. So ready or not, Relief Society, here I come.

“I don’t want to go to school!” Maddy cried. “I’ll miss you! And I’m scared.”
Mommy hugged Maddy. “I’ll miss you too. But school is important. It helps you learn and grow.”
Maddy was sad. She wanted to stay home forever.
“Sometimes life takes courage. That means we have to be brave and do hard things,” Mommy said.
“What do you mean?” Maddy asked.
“Well, think about some of your favorite scripture stories,” Mommy said. “I bet Daniel was afraid of the lions. But Heavenly Father helped him.”
Maddy nodded. She liked that story!
“Or Esther,” Mommy said. “I bet she was scared to talk to the king. But she was still brave.”
Maddy knew that story too! She helped Mommy name some other people in the scriptures who showed courage.
Joseph Smith told the truth even when people didn’t believe him. Nephi followed Jesus even when it was hard.
“You don’t have to sail across an ocean like Nephi did,” Mommy said. “But you do have to go to school. And just like Heavenly Father helped all of those people, He will help you too.”
Maddy wiped her eyes. She wasn’t crying anymore.
“Maybe we can color a picture together to help you remember you can be brave,” Mommy said. “Then you could take it with you to school.”
Maddy liked that idea! She still felt a little scared. But she knew Heavenly Father could help her be brave, just like he had helped Daniel, Esther, and Nephi.

Two years ago, the Lord touched my dear mother’s heart, which helped her decide to receive the ordinance of baptism. I had waited for that day to take place for almost 35 years. In order for her to make that decision, many members of the Church truly ministered to her as Christ would. One Sunday, she felt she should go to church. She followed the prompting. While she sat on the front row and waited for the sacrament service to begin, a four-year-old boy stood in front of her and looked at her. She greeted him with a smile. The little boy left her presence abruptly and walked back to his own seat, which was on the other side of the row where my mother was seated. This little boy picked up something from his seat and came back and handed my mother a hymnbook and walked back to his seat. My mother noticed a hymnbook was placed on every other chair in the chapel. She could have easily picked one up from the chair next to her. However, she was very impressed with the boy’s innocent act of kindness, which he had learned in his home and at church. It was a tender moment for her. She had a strong impression that God was inviting her to come and follow the Savior. She felt she should be baptized. This little boy did not seek recognition for what he did, but he simply did his best to live the word of God and to love his neighbor. His kindness created an important change of heart in my mother.

“It will be all right,” she soothed. She continued her rhythmic weaving for a few moments, then stopped. “How long has it been since I told you about the time I saw the Savior?”
“Many months.”
“Then listen again.” After a pause, she quietly began her story. “When I was a small child, word reached us that a great man was coming to preach in our city. Soon a crowd of people gathered right below the temple.
“My parents thought that I was too young to be in such crowds, so they left me home with my brother, Jesse.”
Johanan nodded in understanding. His parents left him home with his little sisters on market day.
“Jesse wanted to go,” Grandmother continued, “so he swore me to secrecy and we walked toward the crowds. We wriggled our way through the people until we could see Him. We stood still, just staring at Him.”
“What was He like?” Johanan asked earnestly.
“He was like other men—He had two eyes and one nose—yet He was very different. I knew when I saw Him that He loved me and everyone there. I felt something special, a kind of reverence.”
Johanan sighed, “I wish I could have seen Him.”
Grandmother nodded. “One by one He took the children from the multitude and blessed them. Jesse and I walked forward. Soon His arms were around me, and He talked to me. I don’t remember what He said. I remember that I knew that He was the Savior.”
They sat quietly thinking for several minutes before Grandmother looked down at her weaving and picked up the shuttle again. “Don’t worry, my son. He told us what to do.”
Johanan, too, knew the prophecies. When the signs were right, they would leave their home and flee Jerusalem. He looked at the bags and goatskins stacked in the corner. His family was ready to leave whenever the time came.
That afternoon he was herding the goats into the corral when his father walked swiftly up the path, calling to him. “Come, Johanan! Hurry!”
Johanan ran toward his father.
Father gathered the family together. “It is time. I don’t understand why, but Gallus has removed his men from the walls. If we go quietly, I think that he will let us leave. You all know what to do,” Father said. “Now hurry.”
Johanan ran to all their Christian neighbors to make sure that they knew that it was time to leave.
People laden with bags and baskets began streaming out of their houses.
“Where are you going?” one man called out. “You’re not leaving? You cannot. The soldiers will kill you. It’s safer to stay here behind the walls.”
His father stopped and called to him, “Come with us. It’s the only safe thing to do!”
The neighbor waved his hand in disgust. “You Christians—you’re all crazy!”
“Please come!” Father pleaded again, but the man just turned his back.
Johanan remembered how hard his father had worked the past few months to warn everyone that the time to flee was close at hand. Few had listened to him.
“We can do no more,” Father now said sadly. He gathered the family together and joined the rest of the Saints as they poured out through the gates of the city.
They walked as rapidly as they could. Grandmother was having trouble keeping up, so they slowed their pace. It was growing dark by the time they climbed a small rise above Jerusalem. Stopping to rest, they turned to look at their city one last time. Johanan had thought he’d feel sadness to leave his home. Instead, he felt a great joy because his family was safe and all together.
As they watched, the armies of Gallus closed ranks and Jerusalem was encircled once again.
Silently the family turned and began to walk. Johanan stayed close to his grandmother in case she needed him. His heart felt very full. He felt his testimony of Jesus Christ growing. His family had been saved because they had listened to and believed His message.
Grandmother had seen and touched Him. Johanan knew, without seeing, that Jesus was the Christ. He knew because the Holy Ghost whispered it to him.

The past few years, I have struggled with clinical depression and anxiety. Last year was a record low for me. My testimony was slipping, and seminary was the only thing barely pulling me through. I met a few girls who quickly became my best friends. The scriptures began to resonate with me. And our teacher taught in such a way that the New Testament stories of Jesus Christ from so long ago became relevant to our teenage lives. I grew to know my Savior and my Heavenly Father. Slowly my testimony not only was restored but also became stronger and more immovable. My battle with my mental health has never left me, but because of seminary, the hope that was once lost is now abundant. I have a testimony of Jesus Christ; I know He lives, He loves us, and He can bear our burdens if we come to Him. Without seminary I would not have received that blessing.
Jalee D., 16, Colorado, USA

Can you see the relationship between priesthood keys and blessings? As you engage in this work, I think you will find that the Lord is in its details. An experience demonstrates this. I recently learned of a mother who regularly escorted her children to the temple to perform proxy baptisms. On this particular day, as this family completed their baptisms and were leaving the temple, a man entered the baptistry area with a large batch of his own family names. Realizing there was no one remaining in the baptistry to assist with these family names, a temple worker caught the departing family and asked the children if they would consider reentering and changing once again to assist with these baptisms. They willingly agreed and went back in. As the children were baptized, their mother, listening, began to recognize the names and soon, to the amazement of all, realized the man’s batch of family names were deceased ancestors of her family as well. A sweet, tender mercy for them.

I have had hard times in real life too. In 2021, I tore my ACL in gymnastics. I was devastated and didn’t know what I was going to do.
I remember sitting in church before my surgery. Someone was speaking, but I wasn’t listening until they said one verse: “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13). That moment helped me because I knew I needed to pray and get close to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ so I could receive Their strength.

“Hold onto my basket,” Mother told Elizabeth as they left the bakery. “And take Charlotte’s hand.” Mother stopped suddenly. She had forgotten for a moment that Charlotte had died. “Hold on tight,” she said, her voice quavering. “I don’t want to lose you too.” Mother shifted baby Ellen on her hip and set off down the sidewalk.
Elizabeth followed, dutifully holding the basket’s handle. Usually she would have helped herself to a piece of warm bread, but today she wasn’t hungry.
On a street corner a man was holding up a book and talking loudly. “What’s he saying?” Elizabeth asked. “He has a strange way of speaking.”
“He’s not from England. I think he’s from America. He says that the elders of his church have authority to bless the sick and that those who are not appointed unto death will be healed.” Mother sighed. “If only we had known.”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure what all this meant. All she knew was that she was cold and tired and wanted to go home.
Later that night, Elizabeth’s father looked at her across the dinner table. “You haven’t said a word,” he said. “Are you feeling sad about Charlotte?”
Mother studied her daughter a moment and then jumped up in alarm. “Oh please, no!” she exclaimed, putting her hand on Elizabeth’s sweaty forehead. “It’s not sadness,” she told her husband. “It’s a fever. Run for the doctor. Quick!”
By the time the doctor arrived, Elizabeth was unconscious. He examined her and then turned sadly to her parents. “It’s scarlet fever,” he said.
“Can’t you do anything?” Mother pleaded. “We lost our daughter Charlotte to the fever already.”
The doctor pulled a small bottle of medicine from his bag. “Give her a dose if she awakens. But I won’t lie to you—she is already near death and will not regain consciousness. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
After the doctor left, Father pounded his fist on the table. “Why would a loving God take our children? I can’t believe they have already lived out their appointed times.”
Mother grabbed his arm. “Francis, go for the Mormon elders at once and ask them to come pray for our little girl.” Father hesitated, but Mother insisted. “I believe their words, Francis. If they bless her she will get well.”
Father found the elders and brought them home. One of them anointed Elizabeth’s head with oil. Both laid their hands on her head and the other one solemnly pronounced a blessing, promising Elizabeth that she would get well. He also promised that she would become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, that she would go to Utah, and that she would live to become a mother in Israel. The fever immediately left Elizabeth’s body, and she fell into a peaceful sleep.
The next morning the doctor came with a death certificate. “Sorry to intrude,” he apologized, “but I need to fill this out on Elizabeth.”
“Please come in and join us,” Mother said happily. “We were just having bread and butter for breakfast. At Elizabeth’s request.”
The doctor could scarcely believe his eyes. There was Elizabeth, sitting up and eating. “That medicine worked wonders!” he declared. “This is a miracle!”
Father handed him the unopened medicine bottle. “A miracle, yes,” he said. “But not from the medicine. The Mormon elders blessed her.”
“Well,” the doctor said, “I don’t know anything about the Mormons, but I know that she was certainly dying last night. Good day to you all.”
When the doctor was gone, Elizabeth set down her bread. “What is a mother in Israel?” she asked.
Mother looked at her in surprise. “Did you hear the blessing?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied. “I couldn’t open my eyes or speak, but as soon as I felt hands on my head, I could hear every word.”
“Those were promises from God,” Father said.
“Promises to me?” Elizabeth asked, wide-eyed. “Will they really happen?”
“Yes,” Father said, looking at Mother. “I believe they really will.”

The faith of this family is personified by the faith of President Uchtdorf’s grandmother. She was standing in line for food following the end of World War II when an elderly single sister with no family of her own invited her to sacrament meeting. His grandmother and his parents accepted the invitation. They went to church, felt the Spirit, were uplifted by the kindness of the members, and were edified by the hymns of the Restoration. In 1947 Dieter’s parents were baptized in Zwickau; Dieter was baptized nearly two years later at the age of eight. The family’s commitment to the Church became strong and enduring.

For a time the Saints could not be comforted. The mourning, the black miasmic depression that descended upon Nauvoo was overwhelming. When Mary Fielding Smith, Hyrum’s wife, after midnight heard the high-pitched voice of Porter Rockwell, riding on a sweaty horse, shouting, “They’ve killed them! they’ve killed Joseph and Hyrum!” she screamed. And young Joseph wept. Soon all Nauvoo knew. Some felt bitter and wanted vengeance. Some who held command positions in the Nauvoo Legion went immediately and asked that they be marshaled. But the leaders had been told by the Prophet to stay home. That was that.

Letters came to Nauvoo from both Willard Richards and John Taylor. To reassure John Taylor’s family, Elder Richards wrote, “Taylor’s wounded, not very badly.” And peace prevailed in spite of the anguish. Many of the brethren absent on missions felt forebodings that day, even at the hour of the martyrdom. Only seven days previously the Prophet had sent letters to all the Twelve asking them to return to Nauvoo immediately. So it was that the returning Parley P. Pratt walked depressed across the plains of Illinois until he could hardly endure it. Finally he knelt and prayed for comfort; and then it was made known to him that the newspaper headlines he had seen in Chicago told the truth, that Joseph and Hyrum had in fact given their lives for the Lord’s cause, and that he was to go back rapidly to Nauvoo and tell the Saints to do nothing until the Twelve had reassembled.

Despite the provocation, then, peace and not war came in the aftermath of the Prophet’s death. With their Nauvoo Legion the Saints had power to win in any skirmish had they so chosen. But they who had been stereotyped as warlike and bitter and hostile and filled with vengeance demonstrated that they were not any of those. They were peaceful.

We had a wonderful time together as we drove on to Berkeley, California. We found a furnished apartment for forty-five dollars a month. But our second day, when I came home that evening, I discovered that my key wouldn’t work in the door. I finally went to the manager and said, “I’m sorry, my key doesn’t work.” She said, “Oh, that’s all right. Your wife has moved you.” I said, “Moved us?” “Yes,” she said, “we had another apartment that was five dollars less.”

Tammy awoke to the roar of a truck outside her bedroom window. “It’s moving day!” She exclaimed, jumping out of bed and sliding into her slippers. “Mom! Mom! The truck is here!”
“Yes, Tammy,” her mom answered, “today is the big day. You’ll need to hurry and eat your breakfast if you want to help the men pack your things.”
My things! Tammy thought, changing into her sweatshirt and jeans, pulling on her shoes, and running to the kitchen. What’s going to happen to my things?
Tammy’s father flew helicopters for the Air Force, and they needed him in Japan. During story time at the public library, Tammy had looked at the world globe and seen that Japan was far across the ocean from the United States. Far from her favorite park and its super-fast twirly slide. Far from all her friends in Primary. And far from her special Star A teacher, who smiled at her when she raised her hand to say the prayer.
Tammy’s thoughts were interrupted when two giant men with big black boots stomped into the house, carrying boxes. They headed down the hall to her room. She gulped down the last bit of milk from her cereal and hurried after them.
They had already started to put her toys into the boxes. “Not these!” she told them, snatching up her new box of markers and her coloring books. “I’m taking these with me on the airplane. It’s going to be a very, very long flight.” She grabbed her backpack and began stuffing it with other special things: favorite books, tapes, a small doll, a whistle, her baseball cards, a pack of gum, and the blue-ribbon badge she had been given for giving a talk in Primary.
“Don’t worry,” one man said, “you’ll have all your things soon after you get there. It’s Japan you’re going to, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s far away.”
“Yep, it sure is,” the other man said, adding conversationally, “I hear that things are a lot different over there.”
“A lot different,” Tammy agreed. She thought, I know they have fast trains and big shopping malls. I know they eat with funny things called chopsticks, bow to each other, and take off their shoes at the door. But do they have Primary? Will I still be a Star A? Her Primary teacher had told the class that missionaries took the gospel to all the world, but had they already taken it to Japan? Did Japan have Sharing Time and singing time and Stars?
Early the next morning, Tammy and her family went to the airport and boarded the plane to Japan. It was a long flight, but she stayed busy playing with the things in her backpack and helping to keep her little brother out of trouble. They left on Thursday, but when they landed in Tokyo, it was already Saturday! Even day and night were different in Japan.
Dad gathered the baggage, and Mom helped her and her brother into the taxi that would take them to their new house. Tammy was fascinated by the windows that rolled up and down when she pushed a little switch. As the spring breezes blew into the car, she suddenly sat up straight. “Stop! Listen!” she yelled. Startled, the cab driver obeyed.
Piano music echoed faintly in the air.
“… , Smiling for the whole world to see,” Tammy sang with it. “That’s my Star song!”
A familiar pillar atop a brown building towered to their right. “It’s our church!” Tammy yelled. “Let’s go in!”
Dad asked the driver to wait, and the family was soon walking across the parking lot while the beautiful, familiar music floated softly out an open window. Tammy ran over to it and peeked inside. “It’s a Primary Quarterly Activity!” she exclaimed with a big smile. “They do have the gospel in Japan. And they have Stars too!”

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.

Several years ago I installed a stake president in England. In another calling, he is here in the audience today. He had an unusual sense of direction. He was like a mariner with a sextant who took his bearings from the stars. I met with him each time he came to conference and was impressed that he kept himself and his stake on course.

Fortunately for me, when it was time for his release, I was assigned to reorganize the stake. It was then that I discovered what that sextant was and how he adjusted it to check his position and get a bearing for himself and for his members.

He accepted his release, and said, “I was happy to accept the call to serve as stake president, and I am equally happy to accept my release. I did not serve just because I was under call. I served because I am under covenant. And I can keep my covenants quite as well as a home teacher as I can serving as stake president.”

I remember visiting a friend in southern India. This man worked as an accountant in a cement plant. His salary was meager. His house was small; it would fit into the front room of many homes. But his heart was large and overflowing. Out of a great love for others that came from his understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ, he built a school with his own hands on a piece of ground he bought from his savings. It was a simple, rough building; but studying there were some 400 poor children, each being brought out of the darkness of illiteracy into the light of learning. What this act of love has meant and will mean in their lives is beyond calculation.
Through this one man’s efforts, there were established five small branches of the Church in the rural villages of southern India. The members constructed three or four little buildings, neat and clean. Over the door of each was a sign, in both English and Tamil, that read, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” The floors were of concrete and without benches where the people sat together as we met, shared our testimonies, and partook of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.
Someday, someone will write the story of the Church in India. That story will be incomplete unless there is a chapter on my friend who lost himself in the service of others.2

It had been two years since my first visit to the temple, and I was looking forward to attending again with a group of young adults. My focus was to strengthen myself, make friends, and experience the privilege of performing sacred ordinances.
While in the temple baptistry, I was a bit lost in thought because of nerves. It was only my second time going to the temple, and I was afraid of doing something wrong as I performed ordinances. But then a member of the temple presidency, who was assisting with the baptisms, said to those of us waiting in line that if we could just lift the veil for a second, we could see how many people were in the spirit world waiting to be helped.
That thought pierced my heart, and suddenly I realized how important these ordinances were.
As I reflected on what he said, I remembered a technique that I had learned in a theater class where actors put themselves in the situation of the characters they play in order to portray them more effectively. I wondered if Heavenly Father could help me as I tried to put myself in the shoes of the people I was performing temple ordinances for.
How would I feel if, after decades or even centuries of waiting, I could finally receive the saving ordinances that I had so longed for?
As I tried to think more about those I was doing work for, the Holy Ghost helped me feel a sense of overwhelming joy. I couldn’t hold back my tears. I could sense the happiness of those I had just been baptized for. I felt a strong impression of how they had waited so long for their saving ordinances.
I had been anxious about going to the temple, but I realized that if I forgot about my own worries and feelings and instead focused on fully representing every person I was baptized for, I could feel their joy through the veil.
I was so grateful to be able to serve all day in the temple and help those who needed me to support them so that they could be ready to return to the presence of the Father. I better understood the revelation God gave to the Prophet Joseph Smith in the Kirtland Temple: “All who have died without a knowledge of this gospel, who would have received it if they had been permitted to tarry, shall be heirs of the celestial kingdom of God” (Doctrine and Covenants 137:7).
Before returning home from the temple, all the young adults gathered around to share their testimonies and experiences. The Holy Ghost touched everyone’s heart, and we knew that we were different than we had been when we first arrived at the temple because of our new focus on doing temple and family history work.

I remember so well an experience I had when I was a boy of about 14. My father was a bishop. There was a death in the ward, and he was going to prepare for the funeral. He asked my brother and me to do certain things while he was gone. We thought he would be gone quite awhile, and we decided to ride some calves before we did what he had told us to do. We thought we would have plenty of time, but he came home while we were still riding those calves, and he called us over to him. Though he had never whipped me, I thought maybe I was going to receive a whipping at that time. But he pointed his finger at me and said, “My boy, I thought I could depend on you.” That hurt me very much. I can still almost recall the exact feeling I had at that time. I made up my mind he would never have a reason again to say, “I thought I could depend on you.” Right then I made up my mind that the Lord would never have reason to say, “I thought I could depend on Eldon Tanner.” It has helped me greatly in my life. The things I learned while I was a boy have helped me all through my life.

My experience with temptation as an exchange student came from the outside, from persistent friends. It was an external challenge to the things I believed, and I was able to stand firm. But as additional experiences came to me, I learned that we are going to be tested from all sides. Some of the most difficult challenges are internal ones, when the temptations that have to be resisted take place in the quiet of our own hearts and minds.
One of these challenges came when I chose to pay an honest tithe when I was away from home. Every year my dad would take us to tithing settlement. He would help us calculate our tithing, and we would pay it. All during the time I was growing up, I developed this habit of paying tithing. If you had asked me at the time, I would have told you that I had a testimony of tithing.
When I finished high school, I had been admitted to Harvard University, so I worked that summer and earned money to pay for the expenses that weren’t covered by my scholarship. By the end of the first semester, I had foolishly spent all the money that I had earned to get me through the whole year.
At the start of the second semester, I got a job. I couldn’t work very much because I was a full-time student, but I worked a few hours a week and received my first paycheck. Of course, it wasn’t very much, but it was all I had to get by until the next paycheck.
Then the question arose in my mind, “What about tithing?” I had been in the habit of paying my tithing but had always had sufficient money to pay the tithing. Here I was faced with the challenge: do I pay my tithing when I don’t know if I’ve got enough money to get through the next two weeks?
As I thought about it, I remembered the scripture in Malachi 3:10, where the Lord promises, “Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.”
So I realized that was my answer. I would leave it up to the Lord. I paid my tithing, not sure if I had enough money to carry me until the next paycheck. And a miracle happened. I made it through that two weeks.
It came to me so powerfully that the Lord keeps His word. The Lord came through the way He promised. Just as the scriptures say, if we pay our tithing, He will bless us. That same miracle happened every two weeks throughout the rest of the semester. Before, I had thought I had a testimony of tithing, but now, because of my correct decision, I had a powerful testimony of tithing. The Lord always does what He says, so my testimony continued to grow step-by-step.

The translation of the Book of Mormon is a miracle in itself and gives further proof of the book’s divine origin. When Oliver Cowdery arrived in Harmony, Pennsylvania, on April 5, 1829, to serve as the Prophet’s scribe, only a few pages of the final text had been translated. That evening Joseph and Oliver sat down together and discussed the Prophet’s experiences long into the night. Two days later, on April 7, they commenced the translation of the work. Over the next three months, Joseph translated at an amazing rate—approximately 500 printed pages in about 60 working days.
Oliver wrote of this remarkable experience: “These were days never to be forgotten—to sit under the sound of a voice dictated by the inspiration of heaven, awakened the utmost gratitude of this bosom! Day after day I continued, uninterrupted, to write from his mouth, as he translated, with the Urim and Thummim … the history, or record, called ‘The book of Mormon’” (Messenger and Advocate, Oct. 1834, 14; see also Joseph Smith—History 1:71, note).

The Lord warned me about that years ago, when I was the young college president here. Ed Wiliams invited my oldest son to join him and other geology teachers and students to climb the South Teton. My son was ten years old. I had climbed many mountains before. I wanted to prove I could still do it, and I wanted that sense of victory for my son. Just four hundred feet from the summit, my son seemed tired. I could tell he was exhausted. All my drive to succeed urged me upwards. But there was something about the spot where we stood on a sunlit place, which made me say to the others, "You go on to the summit. I will stay here with my son."

It is years later that I have come to understand why that wait with my son for the others to come back down was so satisfying and why I had such a feeling of success when we reached the bottom after dark. The climbs to the places God would have us go are never for us alone. If we forget that, we will not have His full power to lift us. Somehow the Lord let me feel that day in the mountains that the summit for me was on that sunlit place where I could set up our little stove and share hot soup with my son.