Gospel Story Finder

Since my article “But Will I Get My Eagle” was published in the May 1983 New Era, I have been receiving comments from all over. And whether they were offering me bouquets or brickbats, they almost all asked the same question: “Did John receive his Eagle?”
Well, believe it or not, the question is not easy to answer. John advanced to Star normally, as a result of the program of his Blazer leader and Scoutmaster, but when he was on his own to continue, he let four years pass before he earned his Life Scout progress award. This was barely six months before his 18th birthday.
The application originally prepared for review (well after his 18th birthday due to John’s involvement in school activities) had the leadership deficiency I had been concerned about, but it was augmented and submitted to the council office after John was off to college.
The local Scout council was persistent. When John came home temporarily he was pounced on, and the necessary Board of Review was held. The approved application was forwarded to National Council. John went back to college. The local council explained to National Council why the long delay in submission had occurred and confirmed that all work had been completed in time. National Council considered the evidence and authorized the awarding of the Eagle badge at an appropriate time and place and with the proper ceremony which we commonly call the “Eagle court” and which is actually a national court of honor.
So does John have his Eagle badge now? One small problem: Elder John is now engaged on another continent in a higher mission than Scout advancement. I rejoice in what he is doing, but he is obviously not here to attend a court of honor.
I was going to say that the story has a happy ending. John is an Eagle Scout, even if he does not yet have the badge. But when I think of what might have been, I am not so sure. John did not have his Eagle court and cannot attend the great Eagle Scout recognition banquet. The younger Scouts did not receive the leadership and help he could have given them had he fulfilled his leadership requirements within the Scouting program instead of outside it. The focus became whether he would get his badge rather than how he could have served others. He is making up for that now as a missionary, but only for the present and future. What he might have done earlier is now sealed. And perhaps worst of all, when people read that John is now an Eagle Scout, this might encourage future generations of Scouts and Explorers to also aim at the last minute with predictable results.
John wrote me a letter from the mission field after my article was published. He said, among other things, “The Eagle is still very important to me, but like you said, it means more when you really work for something. I worked, but not with all my heart, might, mind, and strength. If I had really stretched myself and made it more of a growing experience, it would have meant a lot more. (I did grow, of course, but not as much as I could have.)
“I would probably have gotten my Eagle four years earlier if the age limit had been 14. That’s a weakness I had, and I’ve had to work on it—so I look at this as a special growing experience. The New Era article helped me to realize more fully what a bad weakness procrastination can be.”
Robert H. JohnsonSan Francisco, California

I’ve always been a member of the Church. I was baptized, received the priesthood, and attended meetings regularly. But I started making choices that set me on a path away from the gospel.
When I neared the age for missionary service, I said I wasn’t going to go. I thought nothing could change my mind.
Except that I had so many positive influences in my life. My parents encouraged testimony-building activities. My Church friends loved me and never judged me. And my home teaching companion would often tell me he thought I would make a great missionary. Gradually, I started to believe him.
As time went on and positive influences in my life pushed out the negative, I began praying personally. I didn’t kneel at first, but the more I practiced, kneeling at my bedside became a special time for me. I began to feel nearer to the Lord than I ever had before. I felt a seed of testimony start to take root.
One Sunday in Gospel Doctrine class, I felt impressed to pray and ask for forgiveness for my past mistakes. I bowed my head right where I was and I prayed to Heavenly Father.
Then, I asked the question that I had been dreading: “Should I go on a mission?” The answer immediately came to my heart and mind: Yes.
It was so powerful that I was unable to hold back tears. I am so grateful for that experience. I learned that even when we push the Lord away, He will never give up on us.

There is another little sign in President Kimball’s office. This one reads: “Don’t quit.” We are all going to have hardships and setbacks. But Heavenly Father will not give us a hardship that we cannot overcome. Behind many Olympic champions are stories of incredible hardships that had to be overcome. Just this past summer, many of us had the opportunity to see an American win his country’s first gold medal in Greco-Roman wrestling. We saw this big guy crying tears of joy as he stood on that victory stand. Just two years before, he had undergone a serious operation for a rare form of cancer. He never gave up. Now he is an Olympic champion.

Mark, Ben, and Corey were kneeling in the sandpile, building tunnels and roads for their cars and men. The boys were so busy that they didn’t see Patrick ride up on his bike.
He stood watching for a while. Finally he asked, “Can I play?”
“No. Go away, Patrick,” Ben said without even looking up.
“There’s no room in my sandpile for you,” Mark added.
The three boys continued playing and ignored Patrick.
“Anyone want lemonade?” Mark’s mom called from the open kitchen window.
“Yes!” Mark yelled enthusiastically. The other boys shouted yes too.
When Mark’s mom brought out four glasses of lemonade on a tray, Mark said, “He’s not playing,” pointing at Patrick. Patrick stood back and hung his head.
Mom gave Patrick a glass of lemonade. “He can still be thirsty, can’t he?” she said to Mark. When they had finished drinking, Mom asked Mark to help her carry the glasses back inside.
“Why won’t you let Patrick play?” Mom asked Mark when they were in the kitchen.
“He’s a thief, Mom,” Mark explained. “Everyone knows it. He stole one of my men.”
“Oh?” Mom raised an eyebrow. “When?”
“Last summer.” Mark hesitated. “He gave it back, but the guys are worried that he’ll take some more.”
Mom looked hard at Mark. “Haven’t you ever done something wrong and been sorry later?” she asked.
Mark squirmed. “Yes, I guess so,” he admitted. “But you always say it’s wrong to steal.”
“Yes, stealing is wrong. But it’s important to forgive too.”
“Maybe,” Mark said, unconvinced. He scuffed his foot impatiently on the floor. “Can I go now? The guys are waiting for me.”
Mom nodded, and Mark ran back outside.
That evening Mark hurried to clear away the supper dishes so that he could go out and play. In his haste, he bumped into the counter and dropped his plate. The plate shattered when it hit the floor.
“Gee, I’m sorry, Mom,” he said as he swept up the pieces.
Mom smiled understandingly. “I forgive you,” she said.
As he put away the broom and finished clearing the table, Mark thought about what his mom had said. She didn’t have to forgive him, he knew. He wondered how he would feel if she had stayed mad at him. Mark started thinking about other times when he’d had an accident or had done something wrong. Dad still lets me use his hammer, even after I cracked the handle. And I can still go camping with him, even though I lost his best flashlight the last time we went. Mark was suddenly very glad that his parents gave him a second chance when he made a mistake.
The next day, Mark and his friends were setting up some toy men on the front porch. Patrick came along and watched them longingly, but he didn’t ask to play. Mark looked at Ben and Corey, then at Patrick. He hesitated, then beckoned. “Come on over, Patrick. You can be on my side.”
“You’re letting that thief play?” Corey protested.
“He’s not a thief,” Mark said firmly. “He just made a mistake once. He can use some of my men.”
“Well, OK,” Corey grumbled. “But keep your eyes on him.”
“Thanks,” Patrick said, smiling. “I won’t take anything. I promise.”
Ben moved over to make room for him.
Later, as Mark helped his mom set the supper table, she said, “I’m glad you let Patrick play this afternoon.”
“I am, too,” Mark said. “Tomorrow he’s going to bring over some of his cars and men for us to play with. I think he’s learned his lesson about taking things.”
“Yes,” Mom said. “And you’ve learned a lesson about forgiving.” She gave him a big hug, and Mark grinned.

Several years ago when I was teaching a grade-one class, the principal sent a note inviting anyone who wished to give a voluntary contribution for a grade-five pupil who had had an accident. I read and explained the message to my pupils, telling them that the boy really needed financial help. I told them that any amount of lunch money would be welcome. Some said, “I only have ten pesos.” Others said, “I have money, but it’s all for my lunch.” I felt sad because no one wanted to give. Then silence covered the four corners of my room. When I was about to pass the note on to the next class, a boy named Joseph handed me six pesos and said, “Ma’am, I want to give this money.”
I asked him, “How much lunch money did you bring?” He said, “Six pesos.”
I told him, “Just give two pesos and spend four pesos for food.”
“No, I want to give all of it!” he said. “I’m full already.” With that example, the other children in the class gave some of their money too.
When lunchtime came, I said to Joseph, “You don’t have food to eat now because you gave all your money.”
He smiled at me and said, “I’m happy that I did.”
I shared my food with Joseph, and as we ate together, tears flowed from my eyes. It felt good to see a child who was so generous at his young age. I thought, “If everyone were like this little boy, our Heavenly Father and our Lord Jesus Christ would be happy for us.”
Three days later, Joseph asked me, “How is the boy who was hurt? Is he OK now?” Again I was amazed. No one else in the class remembered the injured boy—only Joseph, who had given everything he had. It may not be necessary for us to give our lives as the Savior did, but we can have charity if we make Him the center of our lives and follow His example and teachings.

This summer I went to Denmark, and I actually began to miss my family (except for the 6:00 A.M. Saturday morning “Smurf’s are on” call). When I returned and stepped off the airplane, there they were—13 people screaming, “Shannon’s back!”

As I wandered through the house in the middle of the night suffering from jet lag, I saw the ten-pound bucket of butter in the refrigerator, stumbled over the assorted pairs of mismatched shoes in the front entry, and opened my lipstick tubes to find that they had all been bitten off or smashed down, and I smiled and said to myself, “I’m home.”

Photograph courtesy of Quinn A.
Ultimate (also known as Ultimate Frisbee™) is a fast-paced sport that combines the running of soccer, the aerial passing of football, and the vertical leaps of basketball. The game is played by millions in the United States alone, with competitions held around the country.
However, don’t expect the number-one nationally ranked high school team to attend any competition held on Sunday.
Three years ago, Lone Peak High School in Utah started an Ultimate team. “Every single person on the team said we were not going to play on Sundays,” explains Quinn A., a recent graduate who’s played on the team since the first year.
Skipping Sunday competitions (and there are a lot of them) hasn’t limited the team’s success. Not only are they ranked number one, but they’re also respected throughout the sport. For example, at a major national Ultimate competition—the Chicago Invite—judges allowed Lone Peak Ultimate to play all their games on Saturday even though the event took place on Saturday and Sunday.
They also have a reputation for being one of the friendliest teams around no matter where they go. “We always come out with friends,” Quinn says. “Every single game.”
Quinn is now helping to coach the team while he prepares to serve a full-time mission.

Meet Emmanuel Amore from the Bo Sierra Leone East Stake—a young man whose journey of transformation began with a simple invitation to church. In 2018 a friend welcomed him to a Sunday meeting, and Emmanuel’s heart was touched. Not long after, he chose to be baptized—a decision that placed the first stone in what would become a deeply personal path of spiritual and personal growth.
Since then, Emmanuel has made the Gathering Place his second home. Whether it’s playing on the sports teams, learning new skills, or diving into institute classes, he shows up with purpose. “I want to succeed both spiritually and temporally,” he says—and he’s putting in the work to make that happen.
A turning point came when Emmanuel noticed his brother learning masonry. Seeing the demand for skilled labor in his community, Emmanuel realized this could be his opportunity to make a difference. He began training, determined to develop a craft that could support his future. Today, he’s applying his growing masonry skills to find work and build something lasting—not just with bricks but with faith.
Emmanuel is still just getting started. His ultimate goal? To grow in personal righteousness and stay anchored in Christ as he builds a meaningful life, one stone—and one choice—at a time.

Many years ago it was my opportunity to serve as president of the Canadian Mission. There we had a branch with very limited priesthood. We always had a missionary presiding over the branch. I received a strong impression that we needed to have a member of the branch preside there.
We had one adult member in the branch who was a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood but who didn’t attend or participate enough to be advanced in the priesthood. I felt inspired to call him as the branch president. I shall always remember the day that I had an interview with him. I told him that the Lord had inspired me to call him to be the president of the branch. After much protest on his part, and much encouragement on the part of his wife, he indicated that he would serve. I ordained him a priest.
It was the beginning of a new day for that man. His life was quickly put in order, and he assured me that he would live the commandments as he was expected to live them. In a few months he was ordained an elder. He and his wife and family eventually went to the temple and were sealed. Their children served missions and married in the house of the Lord.

Besides sprucing up Main Street, washing cars, tidying the cemetery, spreading gravel at the train depot, and chopping weeds at a main intersection on the highway into town, the youth painted the city’s historic log church, landscaped its grounds, and polished the benches and the organ inside.
“I thought that was neat,” said Daphne Motto, 17. “It didn’t matter that it’s not an LDS church. It’s like we were saying, we’re all brothers and sisters and we need to help each other.”

Robert is Mister Popular. Everyone in my sixth grade class likes him. I kind of wish he would disappear like invisible ink. Before he came to our school, my life was great, but now all I hear is “Robert, Robert, Robert!”
This week, our teacher, Mrs. Beng, told us we were going to do reports on different dinosaurs. I love dinosaurs. I was so happy with this assignment, I couldn’t stop grinning—until Mrs. Beng said that my best friend, Jeff, would be Robert’s partner.
“You should see the neat picture Robert drew of a tyrannosaurus,” Jeff told me at lunchtime. “Our report is going to be great!”
“Probably,” I mumbled. “I’m partners with Katie. She only likes to draw horses.” I hurriedly changed the subject. “Want to play soccer?”
Jeff nodded as he finished off his milk. “I brought my ball.”
We grabbed our hats and ran outside to the grassy field next to the playground. The kids were waiting to start a game, and I made sure I wasn’t on Robert’s team. I’m pretty quick, and I figured I might score a couple of goals.
But Robert got the ball. He weaved in and out of the players and passed it off to Jessica before I could get my legs racing in the right direction. Jessica kicked it into the net. Before the bell rang, Robert’s team had scored four goals. He’d kept stealing the ball and passing it to a teammate in front of the net.
That afternoon, we had a spelling bee. Robert knew how to spell triceratops.
“Good job,” Mrs. Beng said when he finally outspelled everyone. He didn’t even get the extra-hard challenge words wrong. The whole class clapped for him. I didn’t clap very loudly. Everyone would cheer for me, too, if I had a computer brain like Robert’s.
After school, I waited by my locker for Jeff. “Do you want to come over and play basketball?” I asked him.
“I’m going over to Robert’s,” Jeff answered. “We’re going to work on our dinosaur report. And he’s going to show me his aquarium. I love fish. Plus, I’m going to try out his new skateboard. Want to come over to my house tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I’ll let you know.” My stomach felt like I’d swallowed a pile of rocks. It figured that Robert had all sorts of neat stuff. No wonder Jeff wanted to go there. No wonder everyone liked him.
That night, I thought about Robert before I fell asleep. There had to be some amazing thing I could do, too. It took a lot of thinking, but I finally remembered the trick Grandpa had taught me. I knew how to make a coin disappear and then seem to pull it out of someone’s ear. Jeff would like seeing that, and then he’d forget all about Robert.
Tomorrow will be a much better day, I told myself as I pulled up my covers. Besides my magic trick, our class was going on a field trip to the dinosaur museum.
When I woke up the next morning, I wanted to make my stomach disappear instead of a coin. It kept flipping and flopping. My head hurt, too.
“You have the stomach flu,” Mom said. “You’ll have to stay home today with me.”
“Not today,” I moaned. “We’re going to the dinosaur museum.”
“I’m sorry.” Mom brushed back my hair with her cool hand. “I’ll take you there another day.”
“I can go,” I said, standing up. Everything in the room twirled around, and I felt myself getting hot and sweaty, like I’d raced ten miles. My stomach lurched.
“Lie down,” Mom said sympathetically but firmly. “Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow.”
I lay down, but I missed two whole days of school before I felt normal again. I was really glad to go back to school, but I didn’t tell everyone that. I also remembered to bring my coin.
At lunchtime, Mrs. Beng asked me to stay in and make up some of the work I’d missed. Two seconds later, guess who showed up at my desk—Robert. He was going to help me.
“I’m sure you two will do fine,” Mrs. Beng said as she left, her heels tip-tapping down the hallway.
First, Robert explained the math assignment to me. I started working on it while he went to dig something out of his backpack.
“What’s that?” I asked when he plunked a box down on my desk.
“It’s from the museum,” he explained. “It’s a plastic model of a brontosaurus, but you have to put the bones together. You like dinosaurs so much, I felt kind of bad when you missed our trip. I thought you might like this, so I got one for you.”
“How did you know I like dinosaurs?” I said, picking up the box.
“I noticed that you have dinosaur stickers all over your folders, and Jeff told me you have a collection of plastic ones in your room.”
“Oh.” A bunch of thoughts jumbled around in my head. Robert cared about me, and he even knew my favorite hobby. I guess I never realized how he always paid so much attention to the other kids. That’s why everyone liked him. It wasn’t because he could draw or spell or play soccer. Robert was just plain nice! Suddenly I didn’t feel so good about myself. But maybe I could fix that. “The dinosaur’s great,” I told him. “Thanks. Do you want to come over and see my collection?”
“Sure.” He gave me a friendly grin.
“Do you collect anything?” I asked Robert next.
“Stamps,” he answered.
“I’ll keep my eyes open for any special ones,” I promised.
“Great!” He grinned again.
“No problem,” I said. A warm feeling spread through me as I finished up my math. Robert had helped me more than he knew. In fact, from now on I decided I’d try to be like him, a real Mister Nice Guy. It was the only “magic” trick I’d really need.

When Friederike started school, she didn’t like it and wanted to stay home! However, before first grade was over, her parents and her teacher decided that school was too easy for her. They promoted her to the second grade, in which Friederike found the challenge she needed. Now she is in the fourth grade and doing well. Her teacher said that even though this sweet child is two years younger than most of the children, she adds a great deal of sunshine and enthusiasm to the class.

Micah looked down, trying to find the right words. “A few years ago it was me that people like you stared at and laughed at.”
“How come?” Matthew asked. “I never saw you wear a brace.” He and Jason stopped limping and listened.
Micah shook his head. “I never did, but I did have an accident. I guess you’ve forgotten.”
Matthew looked puzzled. “How old were you?”
“I was six.”
“Matthew wasn’t living here then, Micah,” Jason reminded him. “But I remember now—it was at the rodeo.”
Micah nodded. “Yep. One minute I was just sitting there on the fence, watching the rodeo. The next, I was flat on my face, eating dirt.”
Matthew stifled a laugh. “What happened?”
“I was getting down to ask my dad for a hamburger, but my feet somehow got tangled up in the fence slats. I just flipped over and landed on my face.”
“What did it do to you?” Matthew asked, still trying to not laugh.
“Nothing, as far as I could tell. I just got up, ran over to where my Dad was sitting, and asked him for a hamburger. He kept staring at my face, and then he started asking me to smile and frown and stuff. When I fell down, I must have hit an important nerve in my cheek, because the whole left side of my face wasn’t moving.”
“Weird!” Matthew exclaimed.
“It was pretty funny at first,” Micah said. “But when we went to the doctor, he said that the nerve probably wouldn’t heal for six months and that it might not heal completely at all.”
“I remember when it happened,” Jason put in. “My mom sat me down and told me to not make fun of Micah. It was hard sometimes, because he really did look weird.”
Micah nodded. “I probably would have laughed at someone else, but there were a lot of things about it that weren’t funny. I couldn’t close my eye. I had to tape it shut at night so I could sleep. The doctor was afraid I might get an ulcer on my eye, so I had to keep putting eye drops in. I couldn’t use my mouth and tongue right, so I said some things funny, and anything I drank spilled out of the side of my mouth.”
Matthew pulled a face. “Gross! How embarrassing! But did any of the kids laugh at you?”
Micah’s face reddened. “Lots of them. Not everyone was like Jason and his mom. Most of the kids laughed and mimicked me. Even when I cried, some kids kept right on making fun of me.”
“I guess that would be pretty hard,” Matthew admitted. “But you look OK now.”
“Yeah,” Jason added, “I’d forgotten it even happened.”
Micah shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget how it felt to want to be just like everyone else and to not be able to. The hurt from people laughing at you is pretty tough to get over, too. I don’t like to make fun of people—even if they can’t see it. It’s just wrong.”

Sister Massey and I have been married for 12 years; I commend her for keeping up with me. We had the desire of making those sacred covenants in the Temple, we consistently worked towards that goal and were sealed to each other and our 1.5yr old daughter in the Hong Kong, China temple on March 25th, 2015. The moment was desired above all. We felt relieved. We knew that as we keep those covenants, we would not lose each other. There were several blessings we received as we made those covenants. Through ‘rain and sunshine’ we gained a lot, even lost some, but one thing was constant, we always had each other, as each other’s strengths, which I feel is the most needed blessing that comes from living and honoring temple covenants. It is a promise that the Lord will guide us, as we walk in faith together as eternal companions, holding on to each other, nurturing the children the Lord has blessed us with.

A young sister reported her observations of the first Christmas in the Great Salt Lake Valley as follows:
“I remember our first Christmas in the valley. We all worked as usual. The men gathered sagebrush and some even plowed for though it had snowed, the ground was still soft, and the plows were used nearly the entire day. Christmas came on Saturday. We celebrated the day on the Sabbath, when we all gathered around the flag pole in the center of the fort, and there held meeting. And it was a great meeting. We sang praise to God, we all joined in the opening prayer, and the speaking that day has always been remembered. There were words of thanksgiving and cheer. Not an unkind word was uttered. The people were hopeful, and buoyant because of their faith in the great work that they were undertaking. After the meeting, we all shook hands with each other. Some wept with joy, the children played in the enclosure, and around the sagebrush fire that night, we gathered and sang:
‘Come, come, ye Saints,
No toil nor labor fear,
But with joy, wend your way.’
(Hymns, No. 13.)
“That day we had boiled rabbit and a little bread for our dinner. Father had shot some rabbits, and it was feast that we had. All had enough to eat. In the sense of perfect peace and good will, I never had a happier Christmas in all my life.”

It was a fall day in Wyoming. The majestic Tetons rising high into the blue sky were delicately mirrored in Jackson Lake—a breathtakingly beautiful setting for the beginning of a high adventure canoe trip down the 98 miles of the rugged Snake River. True to its name, the river curled its way through a wilderness area abundant with wildlife. There would be few roads and only occasional trails.
Excitement was high, and hearts seemed to be beating a little faster than usual as the 19 Scout leader fathers and their 16-year-old sons waited on the river bank at Moran to begin their canoe trip down the Snake River.
Two tanned, tall, river-experienced 19-year-old young men would be our guides—one at the head of the group and the other following close behind. Their every word of instruction and warning was caught by ears that were straining to learn. There was a bit of apprehension as they warned about whirlpools, with their circling current, that could take a canoe and its occupants down under. There was also the instruction about approaching and riding through the white water areas. The main word of instruction was, “Whatever you do, don’t unbalance your canoe.” We resolved and it was our intention that we would do everything the guides had instructed us to do. We would stroke evenly on each side; we would kneel up all the way so we could move easily and keep the canoe in balance.
As the leader responsible for the group, I seemed to be having some second thoughts as I listened to the safety precautions the guides were giving us. I remembered a newscast a few days before telling of a father who had fallen from his canoe while going through a rapid and had struck his head on a rock and had drowned before he could be recovered, even though he had his life jacket properly in place.
The lead guide gracefully slipped his canoe into the water and glided effortlessly out into the river. In turn, each canoe, with father and son in place, followed. It was a beautiful day—the fresh clear air was invigorating; the clear blue sky with an occasional white billowy cloud added to the beauty of the surroundings. The water was clear and the river flowed smoothly along. The spruce and pine trees, together with grass and shrubs, made each turn of the river one of artistic beauty. The first ten miles were so enjoyable that most of the fear and concern faded away.
As we looked ahead, we could see another stream emptying into the main river. We could see the whirlpool signs, and we became more alert as we approached the junction point. All of a sudden there was an excited cry ahead: “Look at the moose!” I wanted to see the moose, so I whirled around and caught a fleeting glimpse of it with its large flat antlers just as I was going headfirst into the Snake River.
The water was cold; the rocks were hard. I struggled to get to the surface. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind: “I wonder where my son Dave is. How will I find our canoe? Can I find my paddle?”
As I swam toward the shore, I caught sight of Dave right ahead making his way to the bank. I lost my hat and all of the suntan lotion and the dark glasses I had in my pocket. But I was glad to get out of the cold water and again get back in the canoe so we could keep up with the others.
After that, they could have said “Look!” at a thousand moose and we would not have turned around to look. We looked straight ahead. There were miles of rapids and white water, and we went safely through. We didn’t look to the left or to the right. In fact, one rapid was so severe that one canoe in trying to negotiate it tipped over backward.
The father was heavier than his 16-year-old son, and he was in the back. They had not intended to unbalance the canoe, but they did. They got wet just the same. Intention is not enough!

Michelle stood up in front of the entire Primary, not sure if she was ready to do this. In Primary during the month of April, they were talking about Jesus Christ’s Atonement. Michelle had been excited when it was her class’s turn to give the talk and say the prayer in opening exercises. She had asked if she could give the talk, knowing just what she would talk about.
But now she wasn’t so sure. Her stomach was feeling funny, and her mouth was dry. Then she saw her mom and dad in the back of the room and remembered the prayer they had together that morning. Now she didn’t feel quite so scared anymore.
Michelle took a deep breath and held up a picture of a tiny baby. “This is my brother. His name is David Alan, and he would have been three years old this year. But when he was born, he couldn’t breathe very well. He stayed alive in the hospital long enough to have a blessing, and then he died. I never got to see my brother, and sometimes I’m really sad about that.”
Then Michelle held up a picture of Jesus. “But because of the Atonement and Resurrection, I don’t have to be sad all the time. When Jesus died and came back to life, He made it possible for my little brother to one day have a perfect body. That will happen when Jesus comes back to earth and people are resurrected. I can hardly wait, because then I will see my little brother again.”
Michelle held up her brother’s picture again. “I know sometimes people have to die. My family still gets sad sometimes when we think of David Alan. But we know that Jesus suffered for our sins, died for us, and was resurrected so that we can be resurrected too.
“I’m glad I’ll be able to see my little brother and that he will be healthy. I’m also glad that Heavenly Father and Jesus loved us enough to make the Atonement happen so we can see the people we love again. I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Michelle stepped down from the podium. When she went to the back of the room, she gave her mom and dad a big hug.
“You did a wonderful job,” Mom whispered.
“We love you so much,” Dad said.
Michelle felt happy after her talk because Heavenly Father put a good feeling in her heart. She knew He loved her too.

I recall as a boy hearing of the experiences of my Miller ancestors. In the spring of 1848, my great-great-grandparents, Charles Stewart Miller and Mary McGowan Miller, joined the Church in their native Scotland, left their home in Rutherglen, Scotland, and journeyed across the Atlantic Ocean. They reached the port of New Orleans and traveled up the Mississippi River to St. Louis, Missouri, with a group of Saints, arriving there in 1849. One of their 11 children, Margaret, would become my great-grandmother.
When the family arrived in St. Louis, planning to earn enough money to make their way to the Salt Lake Valley, a plague of cholera struck the area. The Miller family was hard-hit: in the space of two weeks, mother, father, and two of their sons died. My great-grandmother, Margaret Miller, was 13 years old at the time.
Because of all the deaths in the area, there were no caskets available—at any price. The older surviving boys dismantled the family’s oxen pens in order to make crude caskets for the family members who had passed away.
The nine remaining orphaned Miller children and the husband of one of the older daughters left St. Louis in the spring of 1850 with four oxen and one wagon, arriving finally in the Salt Lake Valley that same year.

I was looking for the truth and ecstatic to hear the gospel message from the missionaries. I joined the Church, but I was the only member of my family to do so. After about one year, my testimony was growing stronger every day, but something was missing. I didn’t know I was a child of God.
I had accepted God as the Father of all, but I had not realized how intimately He knows each of His creations. With all that there is in this world, I asked myself, how could He possibly know me personally? How could He consider me His daughter? How could He love me as His child?
With these questions in mind, I turned to Heavenly Father in prayer. Shortly after, during scripture study, I stumbled across 1 Chronicles 28:9. King David told his son, “And thou, Solomon my son, know thou the God of thy father, and serve him with a perfect heart and with a willing mind: for the Lord searcheth all hearts, and understandeth all the imaginations of the thoughts: if thou seek him, he will be found of thee; but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee off for ever.”
No other verse of scripture has brought me closer to my Father in Heaven than this one. It testified to me not only that I am a daughter of God but that if I seek Him, I can know Him. It testified to me of my individual worth. I had not, in my heart, been fully converted to the idea that I was a child of God. I had hoped that these things were true but couldn’t grasp the knowledge of such a loving Father in Heaven. I couldn’t accept His love, knowing my shortcomings and the many mistakes I had made.
The scripture taught me how David, who had made many mistakes of his own, counsels his son Solomon to seek the Lord and serve Him with full purpose. These words gave me a strong desire to develop a personal relationship with my Father in Heaven. I was learning more about His loving ways. I knew that, like David and Solomon, I could be found of Him.
I also discovered that Heavenly Father knows me personally. As I continued to study this scripture, the phrase “the Lord searcheth all hearts” was embedded in my mind. Each time I read it, the Holy Ghost whispered to my heart that Heavenly Father knows me and I am His beloved child. He knows my thoughts, aspirations, desires, fears, intents, and imaginations. With these insights, I gained a testimony that I am a child of God.

Jill Johnson of Sandy, Utah, tells how the Lord blessed her family: “As newly married college students, we had carefully budgeted our meager monthly income. Then the landlord raised our rent. We prayed for a blessing. The next day our old car broke down beyond repair. We wondered why we had these trials all at once, but the loss of the car turned out to be a blessing. With help from family and friends, we found we could manage without a car. The money saved on gas and oil was the same amount as our increase in rent. Sometimes we are blessed for obedience in unexpected ways.”