Gospel Story Finder

“Meet Anastasia, one of my newest Primary friends. During a recent Primary devotional in Dallas, Texas, Primary children learned gospel principles, sang songs, testified of the Savior and His gospel, and shared their talents.
“During the meeting, I led an activity to help them learn about how the Holy Ghost can speak to us. I hummed a children’s song and the children guessed what song I was humming. I then asked the children what they did that helped them recognize the song.
“One child, Anastasia, enthusiastically waved her hand to share her simple but profound observation.
“In a confident voice, she described how she focused her eyes and ears on me as I hummed the Primary song, and then she could recognize the song and hear the words in her mind.
“When we are struggling to hear the voice of the Lord, who we listen to matters. Focus your eyes and ears on the words and love of our Savior.
“My friends, I testify that what Anastasia taught was true. When we look to our Savior—when we listen closely for His voice—we will be able to receive divine guidance pressed upon our minds and our hearts. We will be able to recognize truth and grow our trust in Jesus Christ. The direction we are pointed matters. So let us ‘look to God and live’ (Alma 37:47). Live lives filled with faith and revelation. Lives filled with peace, joy, and hope. Lives filled with the Spirit of God.
“How do you hear the voice of the Lord?”
Sister Tracy Y. Browning, Facebook, June 8, 2023, facebook.com/Primary2ndCounselor.

When we were transferred in 1989 from the Germany Hamburg Mission to East Germany to preside over the Dresden mission, the time was not convenient for our family. Our children had just adapted to their new school in Hamburg and now had to become acquainted with the socialistic school system in East Germany. One child could not even come with us because she needed to finish school in the West. However, we have learned from this experience that what seemed to be hard for us in the beginning eventually turned into a great blessing for all of us. The Lord had His own way to take care of our challenges.

Another time when I learned the importance of prayer was when I was preparing for my first piano recital. I was about seven years old, and I was very nervous. I was afraid I would forget the piece, and I was also worried that my hands would shake so badly that I couldn’t play.
My mother knew I was scared, and she suggested that before I go on stage to play, I bow my head and ask Heavenly Father to help me feel calm and remember what I had practiced. I followed Mother’s advice, taking a moment to pray right before I performed.
He answered my prayers, and I learned that Heavenly Father could help me at all times in my life, even during piano recitals! I started to realize that He could help me in school. I prayed and asked Him to help me study and learn and take tests.
A few years later, when I was ten, my family visited the Hill Cumorah and the Sacred Grove. I remember standing on the Hill Cumorah and listening to Daddy explaining exactly what happened there. Then we went to the Sacred Grove, and Daddy told us about Joseph Smith praying to Heavenly Father for the truth. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to young Joseph, blessing him with the answer to his prayer. I knew that if Joseph could get answers, so could I.
Throughout my life, I have talked to Heavenly Father regularly through prayer. I am very grateful to my parents for teaching me that Heavenly Father lives and that He always listens to us. He listens to me, and He listens to you. I know that He will always be there for you.

Almost exactly two decades ago, President Henry B. Eyring was assigned to visit our stake (The Rainier Oregon Stake) for a stake conference. At that time he was serving in the Presiding Bishopric of the Church. He stayed in our home in the woods and sat at our table and talked with us and our children. As a newly called stake president, I privately sought his counsel regarding a member of the stake. He told me a story about when he was a young bishop and sought counsel from then President Spencer W. Kimball.

After explaining the situation he was facing and asking President Kimball what he should do, President Eyring expected a clear answer of profound wisdom. He was surprised when President Kimball started to ask him a string of what seemed to be trivial questions about the member that Bishop Eyring was concerned about. Does he come to all his meetings? Does he arrive early or late? Does he sit in the front or the back? Does he participate in classes or just observe? And so the questions went.

That little story has profoundly impacted my life. I think of it often as I make small, but conscious decisions. Alma 37:6 says, "Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass." Great things, like eternal life, hinge on our small choices. Small choices are at first "conscious," effortful decisions, but eventually in our quest to be true disciples of Christ, they become part of our very nature.

A lovely young lady told the following story at a stake conference. She said, “I am a convert from upstate New York. My parents wanted their children to have eternal marriages.
“Our family moved to Utah, and eventually I found myself a husband. He was the president of the local motorcycle club and wore a black leather jacket and motorcycle boots. We rode motorcycles together—perhaps not what my mother had hoped—but by that time I had wandered from the Church.
“We moved into a house. Often our friends would gather there. I’m afraid our neighbors were quite uncomfortable with us. At least one neighbor took her children into her house when we were roaming about.
“But do you know what our neighbors did? They mowed our lawn because we didn’t have a mower. They brought flowers when one of us was sick, and quite often they brought food and fixed things around the house. Our little daughter was included in the neighborhood children’s activities and was even given a party on her birthday. When we tried to thank our neighbors, they just said, ‘Well, we all like to help each other.’ They made us feel welcome there.
“About 10 months later, we traded our black leather jackets and motorcycle boots for the white clothing of the temple. As we knelt across the altar from each other and looked around that room, there were our neighbors, those who had been mowing our lawn and making things better for us.”

Some years ago, I found an article in a local newspaper so intriguing that I saved it. The front-page headline read, “Determined Dog Won’t Abandon Lost Sheep.”14 This article describes a small number of sheep belonging to an operation not far from my friend’s property that were somehow left behind in their summer range. Two or three months later, they became stranded and snowbound in the mountains. When the sheep were left behind, the sheepdog stayed with them, for it was his duty to look after and protect the sheep. He would not go off watch! There he remained—circling about the lost sheep for months in the cold and snowy weather, serving as a protection against coyotes, mountain lions, or any other predator that would harm the sheep. He stayed there until he was able to lead or herd the sheep back to the safety of the shepherd and the flock. The image captured on the front page of this article allows one to see character in the eyes and demeanor of this sheepdog.

When I was called as president of my Beehive class, the responsibility of representing my class at the monthly Bishop’s Youth Committee meeting really scared me. I was worried about speaking in front of the whole group. I was afraid I wouldn’t know what to do or what to say, and I was afraid of being the youngest one there, but there was no way out.
The night before the meeting I sat in my room worrying, until I remembered my teachers saying that the answer to any problem could be found in the scriptures. I grabbed my scriptures, but I had no idea where to look, so I checked the index under “fear.” There I found a verse that seemed to save my life. It was the last part of Doctrine and Covenants 38:30 [D&C 38:30]: “… if ye are prepared ye shall not fear.”
No scripture has ever had such a powerful impact on me as that one did. I thought to myself, “Am I prepared?” Yes, I was. I knew what we would talk about, and I knew my adviser would be there to help me. I knew the Lord would be with me, and I didn’t need to fear, because I was prepared.

When one of Brother Kim’s former students confided that she was severely depressed and considering suicide, he told her:
“Dear sister, I know of a gospel—a wonderful gospel—capable of giving you new hope, new life. If you study it and pray to God, I promise you these things: health, happiness, joy and a desire to help others find those things, too.”
She and her daughter were among the first four baptisms in Korea, at Songdo Beach in Pusan on 3 August 1952. The other two new members were Brother Kim’s son Tai Whan and daughter Young Sook.

When Renee* moved to a new school in Belgium, she was happy to make new friends. Then one friend did something to make things difficult. Renee explains:
“My friend Nora created a Facebook account using another friend’s name, Kate. She started harassing people using that profile, and everyone accused Kate of being the bully. Nora even made fun of me at school, picking on my religion and my personality. I tried to avoid these attacks but I couldn’t, so I started hanging out with other people.
“When Nora confessed about the fake profile, everyone was mad at her. Nora gave me a letter of apology, but I didn’t think I could forgive her. I was so angry.
“One day I was reading the scriptures, and I came across Doctrine and Covenants 64:9–10: ‘Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin. I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.’
“Instantly I thought about Nora. I knew it wasn’t right for me to feel so angry. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father if He would help me forgive her. It wasn’t easy, but I still managed to do it. I started by sending her messages asking her about her day, and occasionally we talked at lunch. I learned that Nora’s father had died four years earlier. Her life was hard, and she thought everyone disliked her. I was glad I hadn’t stayed mad at her. Kate and some others didn’t understand how I could forgive Nora, but I knew that what I had done was right, and I knew that Heavenly Father was proud of me.”
Renee learned that God commands us to forgive all. By following that commandment, she gained compassion and understanding for Nora and was able to completely forgive.

To illustrate this pattern of faith, I would like to share the story of the Merchan family from the Barcelona Spain Stake.

Melvin and Teresa Merchan, with their two children, Bryan and Carol, moved from Ecuador to Spain in 2001. They settled in the village of Ripoll.

From 2001 to 2004 they were not able to attend their Sunday meetings because they had to work on Sundays. It was not ideal, but they had no alternative. However, they continued to exercise faith. They asked their bishop to send home teachers to visit them, and they gave their tithing to the home teachers, who delivered it to the bishop. They received and treasured their temple recommends.

Starting in 2004, the situation improved for Brother and Sister Merchan. They were able to obtain better employment that gave them Sundays off. The nearest chapel, however, was in the city of Granollers, more than seventy kilometers away, and the Merchans did not have a car. Nevertheless, they attended their church meetings each Sunday.

From 2004 to 2010 their Sunday schedule was something like this:
6:15 a.m.: Leave the apartment.
6:30 a.m.: Take a train from Ripoll to Granollers, then walk from the train station and, generally, arrive early at the chapel.
10:00 a.m.–1:00 p.m.: Attend the three hours of meetings.
After the meetings, they would eat a lunch they had brought with them, or sometimes they were invited to eat with other families in the ward. Then they would walk back to the train station for a return trip to Ripoll. They generally arrived at their apartment around 5:15 p.m.

It took approximately eleven hours each Sunday for the Merchan family to attend church. This schedule was repeated week after week after week.

Earlier this summer I asked Brother and Sister Merchan, “Why did you do this for almost six years?”

Their reply was simple: “We desired that our children would grow up in the Church and remain active in the Church. That was our principal goal. The rest was of lesser importance to us.”

Contemplate the price Brother and Sister Merchan were willing to pay to establish faith and conversion in their lives and in the lives of their children. They exercised their faith and left the miracle in the hands of the Lord.
So what miracles were made possible through their faith?

Now it is not likely that you and I will be required to make an eleven-hour sacrifice to attend our Sunday meetings. But we might ask ourselves what price we are willing to pay for the conversion of ourselves and our posterity. That blessing will come as we exercise the faith to ­partake of the sacrament weekly.

The faith to attend our Sunday meetings still ­precedes the miracle.

I would like to share a simple story that has strengthened my commitment to be honest in all things:
“A man … went one evening to steal corn from a neighbor’s field. He took his little boy with him to sit on the fence and keep a look-out, so as to give warning in case any one should come along. The man jumped over the fence with a large bag on his arm, and before commencing to take the corn he looked all around, first one way and then the other, and not seeing any person, he was just about to fill his bag. … [The boy then called out]:
“‘Father, there is one way you haven’t looked yet! … You forgot to look up.’”
When we are tempted to be dishonest, and this temptation comes to all of us, we may suppose that no one will ever know. This story reminds us that our Heavenly Father always knows, and we are ultimately accountable to Him. This knowledge helps me continually strive to live up to this commitment: “[I] believe in being honest.”

The gospel is about changing lives. Joining the Church is a big change for some people. Repentance and forgiveness require change. Crossing the plains was a huge change for the pioneers. Changes can also take other, more mundane forms—but that doesn’t mean that they’ll be any easier to make.
“The first time they announced they were splitting our stake, I was a little upset because I had good friends in our stake. I sort of felt like I would never see some of those people again,” says Debbie Byrd, a Laurel in the newly formed Ames Iowa Stake.
But Debbie soon changed her attitude, realizing that a new stake not only meant a shorter driving distance to activities and a smaller, more intimate group of people, but was also an opportunity to build fun new traditions and become better friends with people close to home.
“We’re not so spread out anymore,” says Jerad Hintz, a priest. “Before I didn’t always know who was in the stake. Now we know each other a lot better.”

“We’re number one!” shouted the cheerleader at a high school football game. I admired her straight teeth and perfect smile. I watched as she laughed and talked to the girls and flirted with the boys.

“It must be glorious to be her,” I thought, reflecting on my own loneliness. My father’s job required us to move every three to five years, so it was hard for my sister and me to form lasting friendships.

The cheerleader had a reputation for dressing immodestly and going to drinking parties. Watching her, I began to ache for the popularity that I thought she represented. I wanted friends so badly that for one fleeting moment I wondered if I should lower my standards to become like her.

While my sister and I drove home, I was wallowing in self-pity, and I prayed in my heart to Heavenly Father. I asked Him to tell me the secret that would take away my loneliness and insecurity. Although I wasn’t a Church member at this time, I had a strong faith in God.

Immediately came into my mind the idea, “Stop thinking about yourself.”

“That’s the secret?” I thought disappointedly. “How can that help me to become popular?”

Later that week, I read about charity in 1 Corinthians 13. It helped me understand that Heavenly Father was trying to teach me to have charity toward others rather than focus on how they were treating me. I took the characteristics of charity listed there and put them to work. When I did this, I found that my whole school experience changed. Here are some of the valuable things I learned.

I tried to become more patient with people at school. One boy teased me during gym class, but I tried to meet his ill will with kindness and smiles. Eventually he stopped teasing me. By the end of the year, we became good friends.

I had always admired a girl in my class who was friendly to everyone, no matter how popular or unpopular they were. I began to follow her example and look for opportunities to show kindness to others.

My sister and I were jealous of the talents of a basketball player in our school, and we used to make cutting remarks about her. I decided to start rejoicing in her victories instead. I also began to develop my own talents. When I did these things, I lost my bitter burden, and I was much happier.

I sometimes thought I was better than some people because I lived higher moral standards. When I thought about the Savior, who was meek and loved all people, I decided to change my attitude. As I tried to be humble and kind, people began to make the effort to be my friend.

I loved the Lord and had high moral standards. I decided that compromising these standards would make me unhappy.

Once, a teacher made a comment that hurt my feelings. Rather than reacting, I asked her if she was having a hard day. She admitted that she was and then apologized. Those comments had come from her personal problems and had nothing to do with me.

One thing my Latter-day Saint friends taught me was that gossiping and spreading lies is evil. I tried to avoid gossip and changed the subject whenever someone started to say unkind things.

I began to see the good in people and be optimistic. When I made this attitude change, people began to feel uplifted around me. This made them want to associate with me more often.

When my sister became seriously ill and lost her ability to walk normally, many of her friends abandoned her because she walked funny. I saw her heartbreak, and I realized the importance of sticking with people through tough times.

When I practiced charity in my relationships, I developed many true and lasting friendships. My loneliness disappeared, and I realized popularity was nothing compared to the real treasure of friendship and respect that comes from living gospel principles.

I am thankful for a Father in Heaven who took the time to teach a sophomore in high school the secret of gaining friendships that would last.

A very different experience occurred in a later game in which I was totally committed. At one point I ran with real intent into a contact; immediately I felt some pain in my face. Having been taught by my father that I should never let the opposition know if I was hurt, I continued to play out the game. That night, while trying to eat, I found that I couldn’t bite. The next morning, I went to the hospital, where an X-ray confirmed that my jaw was broken. My mouth was wired shut for the next six weeks.
Lessons were learned from this parable of the fat lip and the broken jaw. Despite my memories of unsatisfied cravings for solid food during the six weeks when I could ingest only liquids, I feel no regrets about my broken jaw because it resulted from my giving my all. But I do have regrets about the fat lip because it symbolized my holding back.

I went to seminary and later to institute, I attended Church activities, and I even started my own Personal Progress. I couldn’t wait to go to Young Women activities. I will never forget the hours we spent cooking, making postcards or bookmarks, decorating our classroom, or playing games, as well as the wonderful spirit of friendship between us. Each activity helped me understand my divine nature and role in life.

Somewhere in the pages of the journal Sharla kept during her junior year in high school, the handwriting becomes difficult to read. It looks a little like Sharla was keeping her journal while riding in a car or making a trip on a plane during a bumpy ride. That year, Sharla did both of those things many times. But it wasn’t the shaking of a car or plane that made her handwriting look funny.
Her hand shook because she was undergoing an intensive round of treatment for acute lymphoblastic leukemia—which was diagnosed just a few days after Sharla discovered an unusual lump on her neck. Her treatment started in El Paso and involved visits to several specialists. Then she and her mom flew to Houston, where she could receive a new kind of treatment not available in El Paso.
Sharla was spending all her time in a hospital bed, too weak to do schoolwork, see friends and family, or even speak above a whisper. It might not seem like the kind of thing that anyone would want to remember. But Sharla wanted to record it, not only to ensure that her journal would be historically accurate, but also because of the many spiritual experiences she has had as a result of her challenge. Sharla received numerous priesthood blessings. Her family held a special fast. She even had the opportunity to give a Book of Mormon to one of the nurses in the hospital where she was staying.
For a time, Sharla was too weak to even pick up a pencil, but she didn’t let that stop her from maintaining her habit of keeping track of important events. Sharla softly whispered to her mother (because she was too sick to speak in a normal voice), who took short notes about what Sharla felt was significant. Later, when Sharla felt a little better, she used the notes to help her remember what she wanted to write.
Sharla says she owes her life, in a very real way, to her family. Her journal is full of stories about how her mother sat by her bedside, helping her eat, dress, and take medications. She has also written about how grateful she is for her father and sister and brothers for keeping things running at home. But Sharla’s not the only one in the family who keeps a journal.
Life is much more normal for Sharla now, but it will be quite some time before she finishes her last treatment. It will be even longer still before her cancer is declared in remission.
Although she is much better than she was, the road ahead could be a difficult one. But if things get tough, Sharla can look back at her journal and remember that she’s made it through hard times before. She’ll also be able to see that, mixed in with the rough stuff, there were moments of happiness and laughter. Times when she could forget herself and focus on others. Days when she felt so grateful for her blessings she could hardly remember what her challenges were.
Because she’s been so diligent about keeping a journal, Sharla will never forget the good that has come from this experience.

A few months ago, I was at my neighbor’s house. We were having a lot of fun playing. Later in the day, he asked me if I wanted to watch a movie, and I said yes. As my friend got the movie ready to watch, I saw what it was rated and knew that it was one I should not watch. I offered a silent prayer to Heavenly Father about what I should do. I said to my friend, “I think I need to go home now.” As I walked home, I thought about what I had done. I had obeyed my parents and Heavenly Father. I knew that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer and helped me make a good choice.
Marshall Klein, age 9Trabuco Canyon, California

It was 113 degrees at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, and some of the Scouts were starting to see that they would learn a lesson the hard way before the day was over. Our Scoutmaster had warned us to get up early, get organized, and be on our way before the sun got a head start on us. But we had lazed around, and so now we were struggling slowly upward in the hot sun. Many of the Scouts were guzzling their canteen water, too—another thing our Scoutmaster had warned us about. Before we climbed out of the canyon, some of those canteens would be bone dry.
I was pleased when I arrived at the top of the trail with water left to share. So was our leader. He turned to me and said, “I knew I could count on you, Kent.” I’d been through enough adventures with our Scoutmaster to learn to do what he suggests, things like “Drink plenty of water, but take it one swallow at a time,” or, “Always suck on something so your mouth won’t get so dry.”
With our Scoutmaster we have hiked the back country and the mountains. We have also discovered the hills in our own backyards. Every once in a while, I’ll look up at the mountains behind my house and say, “Wow! I was actually up there! I know what it looks like.”
That night at our usual chat around the campfire, he told us other stories from the mountains—stories about Enos wrestling before God, about Abraham preparing to sacrifice his son, about Nephi’s broken bow, about Christ teaching the Nephites in the tops of the hills. Then he talked about missions in life and missionary service, and he told each of us he expected us to go on a mission. (Every once in a while a returned missionary speaks in Church and thanks him for the same kind of encouragement he’s giving us now.)
On the trail, our Scoutmaster points things out to us—different kinds of plants and trees, how to avoid stinging nettle, how to judge geological formations to find spring water, how watersheds are organized, or which side of the mountain has more vegetation. Sometimes he stops us on a plateau or a knoll and says, “Look, guys. The Creator’s system works.” Things like that really help us see.
We went on a hike with our Scoutmaster last summer, and he reserved one night for each of us to be alone and talk to our Father in Heaven. He told us we could pray to him, just like Joseph Smith did, and get an answer. The next morning we were back on the trail again, with our Scoutmaster urging us over “just one more hill,” and “just around the next bend,” and repeating his slogans like, “When you see a man on a mountaintop, remember he didn’t fall there,” or, “Make your mind tell your body what to do. Don’t let your body tell your mind what to do.”
One of the best things about our Scoutmaster is that he’s not afraid to let us see him make a mistake or two. It lets us know he understands when we flub it. One time we lined two maps up crookedly and ended up climbing the mountain next to King’s Peak. We still laugh about that, and we named the mountain “Troop 112’s Mistake”.
But the thing I appreciate the most about our Scoutmaster is that he’s my dad. For more than 10 years now I’ve been sharing him with three older brothers, a younger sister, and a troop of Scouts. But that’s not hard to do because my dad has always saved part of himself for me. That’s why he’s the best Scoutmaster I know.

As my friend and I boarded the jumbo jet in Seoul, South Korea, we nodded hello to the grandmotherly Korean woman seated in the aisle seat. My friend and I then squeezed past her into our own seats, my friend in the center seat and I by the window.
We had been airborne only a few minutes when I heard the soft tones of a hymn. I recognized it as “How Great Thou Art,”1 which is familiar in many Christian denominations and which I had recently memorized.
I looked around discreetly to determine where the sound was coming from. As I did so, I noticed that the Korean woman in our row had her hand in a small hymnal—printed in Korean characters—from her Protestant church.
I quickly changed seats with my friend and quietly joined in the woman’s song, to our mutual delight. She spoke no English, and I neither speak nor read Korean. But I do read music.
So, as she turned the pages of her hymnal, I would look at the first line of notes and nod if I recognized the hymn. Then I would hum a pitch, and we would start singing, she in Korean and I in English. She would sing the melody, and I would sing the harmony.
We were soon joined by passengers in the rows in front, behind, and to the side of us. For the better part of an hour, our impromptu choir sang several standard Christian hymns in our native tongues. The language barrier was dissolved by the music and by the fact that we knew Whom and what we were singing about. Our spirits united in song.
Before the flight attendants served dinner, our final hymn was “Silent Night”2—and it was only mid-October.
Since that experience, I have thought just how unusual, yet wonderful, it was that a group of strangers should unite their voices in hymns on a jetliner high above the Pacific.
I still get a lump in my throat every time I sing “How Great Thou Art” and “Silent Night.” I cannot sing those hymns without thinking of that Korean woman and the gift of music that allowed us to share our common faith in our Savior, Jesus Christ.

It was a pleasant August evening in Wyoming’s Wind River Range mountains. My family and I were hours away from civilization and six miles from our car. It was the last night of our three-day backpacking excursion, and none of us felt ready to hike the six long miles back to our car the next morning. As the cool of the night settled on our camp, my mom placed a pot of water on the stove to boil for hot chocolate. While waiting for the cocoa, my toddler sister dragged me into the woods for a game of hide-and-seek. When it grew dark, we decided to head back to camp.
As soon as we set foot in our campsite, a loud clang broke the silence of the night. Screams erupted in front of me. I looked up and saw my six-year-old sister, Hannah, standing near the pot that had held the boiling water. The water had fallen onto her leg, causing a gruesome second-degree burn that began to blister. Immediately, my parents dumped bottle after bottle of cold water on her leg. Whimpering, she was carried by my parents to the tent.
My siblings and I separated and each prayed for our sister. As I prayed, I felt comfort that Hannah would be OK. When we met back in camp, our family gathered in prayer and my dad gave Hannah a priesthood blessing. In it, he promised her that she would have the ability to hike the trail to the car with only minimal pain or discomfort. I looked at the red blister on her leg. It would take a miracle for his promise to be fulfilled, but I trusted in Heavenly Father to heal her.
Morning came bright and early. We took down camp except the tent where Hannah still slept. Then after gently waking her, our anxious family stood by to see whether or not she would be able to walk. We watched her take a first step and then a second. With only a slight limp, she walked out the tent door. We knew our prayers had been answered. True to the promise given in her blessing, Hannah hiked almost the full six miles to the car “with only minimal pain or discomfort.”
In Doctrine and Covenants 42:48, the Lord promises us, “He that hath faith in me to be healed … shall be healed.” I have seen the fulfillment of this promise. I know that through faith, Hannah was able to hike through the mountains without pain. My testimony of the power of the priesthood has grown tremendously from this experience. I will be eternally grateful to my Father in Heaven for the mercy he showed to a six-year-old girl in the wilderness.