Gospel Story Finder

In 1898, Inez Knight and Jennie Brimhall were the first two single women called as sister missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Shortly after arriving on their missions to England, the two women went to preach in Oldham, a small manufacturing town near Liverpool.
Inez Knight and Jennie Brimhall prayed for help in their missionary service in England.
Right: photograph courtesy of Jennifer Whatcott Hooton
The two sisters, their mission president, and other missionaries gathered one evening. “They formed a circle on a busy street corner, offered a prayer, and sang hymns until a large crowd formed around them.” Their efforts were so successful that the mission president “announced that a special meeting would be held the following day, and he invited everyone to come and hear preaching from ‘real live Mormon women.’”

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Michelle has inspired a lot of people with her story. And they in turn have wanted to help her. You see, sometimes Michelle has medical treatments for her unique health challenges that require her to take a break from indexing for a time.
A few people got together and decided to form an indexing group on FamilySearch so they can help index for Michelle to make up for those times when she’s unable. Anyone can join. If you want to help out, head over to FamilySearch.org and then look up the “Michelle Thornton” indexing group.

My great-grandparents are two of my heroes. They settled in Kaysville, Utah, where they built a home for their growing family. They had just finished their home, when John Taylor, the President of the Church then, needed a place to stay. My great-grandparents offered their new seven-room, two-story home to the prophet.
President Taylor and his office staff moved in, and my great-grandparents and their children moved to an old log cabin behind the home. While President Taylor lived in the house, my great-grandmother cooked and washed for him and his office staff, along with the cooking and washing she did for her own family. She and her husband worked very hard to serve the prophet of the Lord. When I read about what they did, I am impressed with the examples they set. I want to live the same kind of life they did.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be disabled? The youth of the Davenport Iowa Stake found out at their last youth conference. They had speakers come to educate them about various types of disabilities and the extra faith they require; then they experienced some disabilities firsthand.
They played wheelchair basketball, volleyball with glasses that severely inhibited their vision, and “Beep ball,” which is like blind-folded baseball played with a ball and bases that give off sound.
Of course the conference also featured a dance, a testimony meeting, meals, and other games, but the understanding they gained of different disabilities left the biggest impression. In fact, 12 participants were so impressed they decided to participate in a local disabled youth camp program.

When I went to college, I played on the basketball team. Most of my teammates were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I learned about the gospel from them. I learned that I am a child of God. That meant I could rise above my struggles and be better. I joined the Church. Ever since then, I have tried every day to become more like my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. And you can do that too!
Elder Johnson learned about the gospel while playing basketball. Now it’s your turn!

Imagine a 17-year-old boy walking through a school. He passes by two young women he knows. Each young woman hands him a piece of paper. The first hands him an envelope with a heart-shaped sticker on it, and the second hands him a flyer with an image of a red cross on it. Without reading either one, he starts thinking about asking the first girl to a dance and giving the second girl a donation for recent flood victims. He has a different reaction to the images because each one holds a different meaning for him; in other words, they are symbols.

Illustration by Greg Newbold
A couple of months ago, I was talking to a friend about some struggles in my life. She was kind and listened to me, but after I told her everything, she asked me three questions: “Are you reading your scriptures daily?” I said no. “Are you praying daily?” I said no. She told me this was part of my problem and challenged me to read the Book of Mormon with an open heart and to pray about my questions before I read. I accepted her invitation to read and pray every day. Then she asked her third question.
“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
I didn’t know how to respond. I finally said, “I see a naïve, lost boy.” That’s what I thought I saw, but she said I was wrong.
Every day for the next few weeks, I thought about that question. It bothered me that she said I was wrong. About what? I realized that I could figure it out if I had regular scripture study with meaningful prayer. It took me a while to establish a schedule where I was reading and praying on most days of the week, but I did.
A few weeks later, some thoughts came to me while I was mowing the lawn. They taught me about the real person I see in the mirror:
I see a young man who decided to come to this earth to face the fiercest evils and the darkest nights. I see a son of God, a child of Heavenly Father. I see a disciple of Jesus Christ, who will always help His followers. I see a young man with family and friends who will stand beside him.
I may feel lost and confused sometimes, but I don’t have to live life alone. Satan may try his hardest to succeed, but in the end he will fail. And in the end, I can see myself walking up to Heavenly Father and hearing Him say, “You have served me well, my son. Welcome home.”
When I had these thoughts, I immediately pulled out my phone and recorded what I’d felt, because I thought I’d forget by the time I found a pencil and paper. For the rest of the day, I couldn’t help but smile.
I told my friend what I had found out, and she was happy I had found the answer. I now understand my relationship with Heavenly Father and know that I never have to be alone.

We once had two beautiful long-haired kittens at our house. They lived in a Garden of Eden because of the way we pampered and spoiled them. They loved it—all that food and warmth and tender loving care. About the worst opposition they had to endure was being dressed up in doll clothes, which they didn’t seem to mind very much.
One Saturday morning the kittens, along with our children, were relaxing sleepily in front of the television, enjoying their nice life. As we turned off the television and began giving out assignments for Saturday morning housework, our eight-year-old daughter looked longingly at the still-purring pets. “I don’t want to do my work,” she declared. “I would rather be a kitten.”
There are days when we would “rather be a kitten,” but our first parents left the innocence and “nice life” of the Garden of Eden for one glorious reason—that they might find joy. (See 2 Ne. 2:25.) Not days of constant leisure. Not yawning and stretching and lounging in front of a television throughout eternity.
Opposition is a central part of mortal life. It may be the primary difference between what life would have been in the Garden and what it is in mortality. It is the difference between being green, untested, and inexperienced and becoming ripe, seasoned, tested, and having a mature understanding. How different from innocence, for if there is only innocence, there is little meaning.
When Father Lehi said there “must needs be … opposition in all things” (2 Ne. 2:11), he spoke not merely of the need for choice and agency, but of the way opposing forces combine to give meaning to righteous choices. Without the taste of bitter in our experience, we do not appreciate the taste of sweet. We are without context, without a frame of reference, and even the sweet things of life are without meaning and purpose. Mortality presents us with a “compound in one,” a deliberate mixing of righteousness and temptation, holiness and misery, without which there could be “no purpose in the end of [life’s] creation” (2 Ne. 2:11–12).
Some of life’s most difficult challenges can come when opposition appears in places where we don’t expect it—such as when we think we just finished with it. For example, frequently we must overcome great opposition as the price of admission to a promising opportunity: going on a mission or being married in the temple. Many Latter-day Saints are caught off guard when they discover opposition in what they thought would be a trouble-free environment. “Christianity without tears,” in the words of one writer, is the state that some of us hope for.
Eliza R. Snow addressed the lines of a provocative pioneer hymn to those who were coming to Zion in the belief that they were leaving the afflictions of the world behind. Her words are also appropriate for all of us who embark on new experiences in which we expect to find “a nice life.”
Think not when you gather to Zion,
Your troubles and trials are through,
That nothing but comfort and pleasure
Are waiting in Zion for you: …
Think not when you gather to Zion,
That all will be holy and pure;
That fraud and deception are banished,
And confidence wholly secure: …
Think not when you gather to Zion,
The prize and the victory won.
Think not that the warfare is ended,
The work of salvation is done.
No, no; for the great prince of darkness
A tenfold exertion will make, When he sees you go to the fountain,
Where freely the truth you may take.
(Hymns, 1948, number 21.)
There is opposition in Zion, because there is opposition in all things, even those experiences that seem to promise better times ahead. Consider the example of marriage. Many people assume that if they can just get married, all their problems will be solved. One new bride reportedly said to her mother on her wedding day, “Oh, Mom, I’m so happy! I’m at the end of my troubles.”
“Yes, dear,” replied the wise mother, “but which end?”
We vividly remember our own experience in marrying each other and having our first baby. After we became parents, we began to discover what Lehi had been talking about when he said that if Adam and Eve had remained in the Garden and had had no children, “they would have remained in a state of innocence, having no joy, for they knew no misery” (2 Ne. 2:23).
That scripture seems to say that if they had had no children, they would have known no misery. Only the parents of two-year-olds and teenagers can understand that! But it also says that without children and misery, they would have had no joy. How important is joy? Within two verses, Lehi tells us that “men are, that they might have [that very] joy” (2 Ne. 2:25; emphasis added).
In our case, here is what all that meant in a very down-to-earth sense. During her first pregnancy, Marie was sick—an odd way to be showered with joy. For part of each day for several months, she felt just terrible. It was morning sickness ad nauseum.
Then about four weeks before delivery she threatened to miscarry, which sent her to bed for several days, causing serious complications in the classes she was taking and those she was teaching. But when the big day finally came, even the hours of labor were worth it as she lay there in the hospital bed holding that beautiful baby boy.
Nothing could be more wonderful than this, she thought. Surely the world stops for such a beautiful baby.
The day after the baby was born, she was cuddling him happily in her hospital room when her doctor came in. A plain-spoken man, he looked at them and said cheerily, “How does it feel to have the easiest part over with?”
“Easiest part?”
“Why sure,” he replied. “It’s the next twenty years that are going to be tough.”
Now, more than twenty years later, we have discovered, right there among mortality’s thorns, the sweet fruit of having joy in our posterity. After all the diapers, the bruises, the washing, the cheering, the cleaning up, the pleading, the nail biting, the crying, the laughing, the pacing, and the praying, we understand. We feel about raising children the way Ammon felt about missionary work:
“And this is the account of Ammon and his brethren, their journeyings in the land of Nephi, their sufferings in the land, their sorrows, and their afflictions, and their incomprehensible joy” (Alma 28:8; emphasis added).
There, in Alma’s words, is Lehi’s paradoxical compound in one. There is a link between sorrow, affliction, and incomprehensible joy. Without opposition, “they would have remained in a state of innocence, having no joy, for they knew no misery” (2 Ne. 2:23).
Another area in which we sometimes experience opposition after “gathering to Zion” is in the development of our testimonies. Actually, most of the questions we face as our testimonies grow are signs that we are learning more, not less, about the truth.
I learned from the late Elder Theodore M. Burton of the Seventy a valuable insight about the growth of a testimony. He said that often when we first realize the gospel is true, the amount of spiritual truth we know could be symbolized by drawing and coloring in a tiny circle about the size of a pinhead.
As our understanding of the gospel progresses, the circle grows. When our knowledge develops to a certain point of maturity, the circle may be the size of a coin, many times bigger than our first little pinhead of knowledge. When we compare those two circles on a piece of paper, the tiny testimony and the larger testimony are surrounded by large areas of white, representing the unknown.
As our knowledge grows in relation to the unknown, something unexpected happens. The larger circle has a much broader circumference around the edge, which is in greater contact with the unknown. Thus, there are many more points at which questions can arise. But it is by the “growing pains” of dealing with that opposition that our knowledge and understanding increase geometrically, especially in the first few years of our experience in the Church.
One young member began having some questions about the gospel, questions that he encountered in his extended study of a particular subject. The more he studied, the more he found new questions to which there were inadequate answers. He became frustrated because he was determined to find a complete answer to every question that came up, but he was unable to do that.
He began thinking that if he couldn’t solve every puzzle he found, perhaps he was violating his integrity to remain active in the Church. At the same time, he loved the Church and had a deep and enduring faith in the reality of Jesus Christ.
After months of struggling, he decided to put aside his unresolved questions and exercise his faith. He would simply have a believing heart. His faith began to grow again, not so much from new information, but rather from new experiences with other people. He shared the gospel with a friend or two at work and accepted a teaching assignment in his ward. He found that his attempts to help others understand the gospel increased his own understanding. His renewed appreciation for the many knowns in his testimony soon outweighed his frustrations about the unknowns, and the joy he had earlier felt began coming back to him. Fortunately, he refused to give up when he met opposition. He learned through his struggles and grew stronger. The turning point for him came when he stopped being so concerned about his own troubles and began trying to help others with theirs.
We find in the life of President Spencer W. Kimball a further poignant illustration of that specialized kind of opposition that haunts us even when by all believable odds we should be beyond it.
President Kimball endured a lifelong struggle with opposition of many kinds. He experienced so many serious medical problems that he once wrote a poem to his “friend, pain.”
At one point, Brother Russell M. Nelson, then a practicing heart surgeon, was asked to examine President Kimball, who was then serving as President of the Quorum of the Twelve. President Kimball desperately needed open heart surgery, but because of President Kimball’s advanced age, Dr. Nelson told the First Presidency he could give no assurance that the surgery would be successful.
When the First Presidency told President Kimball they felt he should have the operation despite the risks, he told them his greatest fear was that he might emerge from the surgery in some partially incapacitated state, unable to do his work.
But he followed their counsel and submitted to the risky surgery. The Brethren gave Dr. Nelson a special blessing. During the surgery, which went flawlessly, Dr. Nelson received a strong spiritual impression that President Kimball would one day be President of the Church.
After that miraculously successful operation, President Kimball continued on, against the odds, raising his cancer-stricken voice like a beacon in the night. How we all loved him! How we prayed in gratitude that his life was spared so many times!
But he did not live happily ever after. For several years before his death, he was physically unable to speak to the Church or to go about his regular duties. That which he most had feared indeed came to pass—his failing health prevented him from carrying his full share of the load. How his heart must have ached! If someone as faithful as President Kimball continued to experience opposition at this stage of his life, it is not surprising that the rest of us must as well.
During President Kimball’s waning years, there was a special quality of love in the tender feelings of Church members for their modern prophet. There was an appreciative remembering of the days when the piercing quality of that unique voice sounded such a clear call at general conference, a kind of loving admiration for his courage, almost of that intimate kind felt only among members of the same family.
In all this, there was more than a trace of joy and insight for the members of the Church—we discovered the rich meaning that comes from having been together in combat, the kind of joy born of sheer gratitude for a friend who touched and changed one’s life. In such a personal and compassionate context, we found deeper meaning in reflecting on his counsel over the years about missions, cleanliness, repentance, the miracle of forgiveness, and universal access to the priesthood. We were happy and sad at the same time, full of hope yet full of sorrow. It was the compound in one, as God consecrated his sorrows for our gain.
In joining the Church, marrying, having children, serving a mission, or developing our testimonies, we must often overcome tremendous odds even to embark upon the experience. For that reason, it is only natural to believe that once we have won the right to the experience, we should live happily ever after. But such is not to be the case.
New experiences may surely lead toward living joyfully; but joy, like grace, comes only “after all we can do” (2 Ne. 25:23). Indeed, joy, like grace, usually comes in the midst of contrary experience, for it is a real part of life’s complex fabric. Joy is not an alternative to opposition, it is part of a compound that comes out of our coping with the challenges and conditions of mortality.

One son bought a small home in a distant state. He showed me bricks on a corner of the foundation that were eroding away. He asked what he should do.
I did not know, but I asked, “Is there an older couple that lives close to you?”
“Yes,” he said, “across the street and down a few houses is a retired couple.”
“Why don’t you ask him to come over and look at that. He knows your climate.”
That was done, and he got the advice of an older man who had seen problems like that and many others. That is what adopted grandpas can do.

“I have a sister who is now 16. When we were younger, we would go swimming, bowling, and skating together, and she always told me that I had a definite lack of coordination. I came to realize that I couldn’t do as well in some things as she did, so I tried something different—studying and homemaking.
“I’m glad now that she let me know I don’t have the ability to do everything. True, she could have been more tactful, but I still love her for what she did.”
Jeanie M. CreekIndependence, Missouri

This very Tabernacle was the scene for such a faith-inspired miracle. It occurred several years ago at general conference time. During the session when I was assigned to speak, my attention was drawn constantly to a little blond-haired girl seated on the first row in the balcony. The more I looked at her, the less I felt inclined to present the formal message I had prepared. I yielded to the inspiration 1 felt and spoke rather about the faith of a girl in far away Louisiana, Christian Methvin. I directed my remarks to my young friend in the balcony.

Upon returning to my office, I found waiting for me this same young lady and also her grandmother. The young girl’s name, Misti White. Her home, California. Here is her story. She began: “I have had a problem, Brother Monson, but not any longer. A person very dear to me told me to wait until I was 18 to be baptized. My grandmother said I should be baptized now. I prayed for an answer and said to grandmother, ‘Take me with you to conference. There Jesus will help me.’”

To conference they came, and so did divine help. Eagerly Misti took my hand and exclaimed, “You helped Him answer my prayer. Thank you.”

Upon returning to California, Misti sent me a treasured letter, with this beautiful ending: “Brother Monson, I was baptized on November 29th. I am now very happy. Love, Misti.” Faith does precede the miracle.

Illustration by Paul Mann
For a while I was a student assistant in the library at my high school. At a certain hour I would usually see the special education class come in. One of the girls in that class, Stephanie, often went to a certain area to read books. She seemed very sweet and friendly.
One day some other students were in the lounge area of the library, and Stephanie tried to talk to them. These students started making fun of her, calling her names and making rude comments to her face about her disability.
As I watched from the library desk, I thought, “Oh, dear. That’s just wrong.” Not seeing an adult around at the moment, I walked over to them and said, “Hey, cut it out.” Then they turned their ridicule to me, so I took Stephanie to the other side of the library, where we sat and talked together for a while.
After that, I didn’t have another chance to talk to Stephanie again. The end of the school year came, and life moved on.
A year later, the sister missionaries invited me to go with them to an appointment. When the day came, I went to the address at the scheduled time, but the sister missionaries weren’t there yet. I called them to make sure I was at the right place, and they told me they were running late from their last appointment but would be there in a few minutes, so I might as well just go to the house and introduce myself. I stepped up to the door and rang the doorbell. A woman answered. She was very nice and courteous.
Then I saw a young woman come around the corner. When she saw me, she ran up to me and hugged me. At first I thought, “She looks so familiar.” She asked, “How are you doing?!” As she went on saying kind and friendly things to me, I just looked at her, trying to figure out who she was. And then it clicked—she was the girl from a year ago in the library. It was Stephanie.
At that moment I thought, “What if I hadn’t helped her that day and then showed up here at her door to try to teach her the gospel? If I had looked on while they were making fun of her, if I hadn’t stepped in and been kind to her, why would she listen to me trying to teach her the gospel?”
Her sweet reaction meant a lot to me. I thanked Heavenly Father for giving me the strength to do the right thing.
When the sister missionaries came, the lesson went very well. We visited Stephanie twice a week after that. She loved learning about the gospel and was baptized within a short time. She really enjoys being active in the Church. I often pick her up to take her to church and to firesides or other activities. Though her mother isn’t interested in the Church, she’s very supportive of Stephanie’s activity.
Through this experience I realized that it’s so important to know that people are always watching. You never know when you’ll have a chance to make an impression on someone and plant a seed. It’s so important to stick up for what you know to be true at all times, even when it may not necessarily seem like the easiest thing to do.

For instance, consider my friend Bob and his watchcare over an elder who smoked. Nearly every morning, Bob would see a fellow member of his quorum and pray with him to help him overcome smoking and then give him a pack of Lifesavers or package of gum to help him during the day. Later, Bob would see him and his wife with hands linked across the temple altar, sealed for eternity. What was it that changed and helped to bring this all about? The gospel and “the heart and a willing mind.”

Another moving story of loyalty is that of Stephen Markham, who appeared in the Prophet’s later life at nearly every occasion of peril. When Joseph was imprisoned in Missouri, Stephen Markham brought the Smith family safely to Illinois. 15 When Joseph was illegally detained and abused by two Missouri constables, it was Stephen Markham who defied them, shamed them into humane behavior, and helped prevent the Prophet’s abduction to Missouri.16 At Carthage, it was Brother Markham who offered to trade clothes and help the Prophet escape.17 On the day of the martyrdom, Brother Markham was returning to the jail with medicine for Willard Richards when the conspiring guards challenged him, attacked him, and finally forced him away at bayonet point to keep him from returning to the Prophet. Prodded onto his horse, he was poked so many times that his boots filled with blood.18 Joseph Smith’s last journal entry records a prophecy spoken to Stephen Markham that “if I and Hyrum were ever taken again, we should be massacred.”19 The measure of Brother Markham’s love is his brave effort to prevent that prophecy’s fulfillment.

The pony’s brown hair was like a short-bristled brush, heavier and stiffer than Brian had imagined. And now that he was standing next to it, the pony seemed quite tall. Brian had to look up to see her eyes. “You wouldn’t seem so big to the other boys in my class,” said Brian, remembering how small he was compared to them. It was hard sometimes to be the smallest boy in class. The little horse suddenly jerked its head back and pawed the soft dirt. She’s almost as excited as I am, Brian thought.
The booming loudspeaker suddenly broke into Brian’s thoughts. “The next rider will be Jimmy Nelson, coming out of the white gate.” Brian scrambled up the sides of the red gate to watch. Jimmy sat three seats ahead of him in school. He was the biggest boy in the class, a great ballplayer, and had a horse of his own. If anyone can ride one of the wild ponies, it’s Jimmy, Brian decided. None of the other boys had been able to stay on their ponies, and only he and Jimmy still had a chance. He watched his friend settle down on the animal and grasp the wide leather cinch fastened around the horse’s middle like a belt.
Jimmy looked confident as he told the cowboys working in the chute that he was ready. The bell rang and the boy shot out of the gate on the brown and white pony. In an instant the pair were jouncing up and down. The pony kicked, twisted, and turned, trying to throw the rider from its back.
The crowd cheered as Jimmy hung onto his bucking mount. Suddenly the little horse reared back and violently rocked forward. Jimmy sailed straight over the horse’s head just as the buzzer went off. He landed on his shoulders in the soft brown dirt. But before the pickup cowboy arrived to help him, Jimmy was up, shaking his head and kicking the dirt in disgust. The crowd clapped for Jimmy’s good try as he walked across the arena.
Now Brian began to wonder if he should have signed up to ride in the Little Buckaroo Rodeo. He had been around horses before, but he hadn’t had much experience. If Jimmy Nelson can’t ride his horse, how can I ever stay on for eight seconds? Brian asked himself. He knew that all he had going for him was a powerful desire. “I’m going to try and hang on, and I’ll do it!” he declared under his breath.
“OK, son, it’s your turn,” said the big cowboy who was working the red chute. Then smiling at him, the man added, “Just remember to hold on with all your might and lean back as far as you can.”
Brian scrambled up the sides of the metal chute and stood for a second looking down at the pony. “I’m going to do it,” he told the little animal. “You’d better understand that right now.” He climbed over the top rail, kicked his leg out, and settled down on the pony’s back that was so broad Brian’s short legs didn’t come halfway down its sides. As he put his full weight on the pony, it jumped.
Brian slipped his left hand under the leather strap, and jammed his cowboy hat on his head with the other hand. Then he slipped his right hand under the belt and the big cowboy pulled it tight.
The announcer called Brian’s name and the boy leaned back and threw his legs up on the horse’s shoulders. “Let go if you start to fall off,” the cowboy warned him. He smiled and winked at Brian and asked, “Ready?”
“Ready!” shouted Brian as he grasped the strap with all his might and leaned back as far as he could. The bell rang and out jumped the pony. Brian imagined he was sitting still and the world around him was jumping up and down and spinning around. The little horse kicked and bucked as hard as she could, but this rider was not going to lose his hold. Up went the horse and up went the rider. The pony spun and kicked again, but Brian stuck to her like glue. Finally, the pony gave a violent heave and Brian’s cowboy hat went flying into the air. Although he slipped over a little to one side of the horse, the boy hung on with all his might.
After what seemed like an hour of roller coaster riding, he heard the buzzer sound, and then he let go and “bit the dust!” Slowly Brian got up, brushed the dirt from his face and clothes, and looked around, not sure where everything was. The pickup man pointed over to the side of the arena. He handed Brian his hat and said, “That was an awfully nice ride, cowboy; you had a real mean horse.”
Brian could hear the crowd cheer for him as he made his way from the arena. He was still spitting dirt as he looked up into the thousands of faces in the stands to see if he could locate his family. Then he saw them wildly waving their hands at him and smiling. Brian grinned and waved back.
“The winner of the pony bareback-riding event is Brian Johnson,” the announcer called.
The littlest cowboy had won!

President Kimball qualifies as a friend of the Savior. When he was in the hospital ready to undergo open-heart surgery a few years ago, he was being wheeled down the hall and into the operating room by a young orderly. The young man accidentally smashed his finger between the metal door frame and the metal frame of the bed on which lay the already sedated prophet. When this mishap occurred, the young man, in pain, used an unfortunate expression in which he took in vain the name of the Savior. The prophet stirred, opened his eyes, and gently rebuked the orderly, saying, “Young man, don’t say that; He’s my best friend!”

It was a fall day in Wyoming. The majestic Teton Mountains 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 158 kilometers of 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 turbulent 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 doubts 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 clean 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 16 kilometers 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 stay 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 kilometers of rapids and turbulent 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!

Because Jessica is surrounded with words, both those she can see and those she hears, she has become a very good reader. She says, “My brother, Jonathan, taught me to read when I was starting kindergarten. It’s interesting that television actually helped me and my brother learn a lot of words and how to pronounce them correctly. It really helped us when we started school.”
Jessica also learned to read well from watching the words that appear at the bottom of the television. It’s called closed captioning. The words that people say on television are typed and scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Jessica became a very good reader by reading the captions as she listened.

Illustrations by Julie Young
Sarah hopped and skipped. She was ready to hike around Silver Lake with her family. Her brother, Josh, ran ahead.
Soon the sun began to feel hot on Sarah’s arms. Her legs began to feel tired.
“Don’t worry,” Mom said. “We’re almost back to our car.”
Bridge Closed
Then Sarah saw a big orange rope blocking the path. “The bridge is broken,” Dad said. “We’ll have to walk back around the lake.”
“But I’m so tired!” Sarah said. Josh sat down in the dirt and frowned.
“Do you remember the story of the pioneers?” Mom asked.
Sarah nodded. She liked the pioneers.
“They had to walk a very long way,” Mom said. “Sometimes it was really hot, and sometimes it was really cold. But they kept walking. When they got to their new home, they built houses and temples.”
Sarah was glad the pioneers kept walking. She would keep walking too. She held her hand out to Josh. “Come on,” she said. “We have some more walking to do.”

Sacrament Meeting—My family attended the branch’s sacrament meeting today. After the meeting, I went with the elders to my parents’ home for a missionary lesson. After the first discussion Elder Johnson tried to make an appointment to come again and teach my family.
“How about right now?” Mom asked.
So the second lesson was given. Dad had to leave then to do the farm chores. Mom quickly prepared a meal, and about an hour later Dad came back in and ate, and the third lesson was given. Three in one night!
July 27—Tonight I baptized my family. It is three months to the day since I joined the Church. Our family is finally united. As I brought Mom up out of the water, she embraced me and shed tears of joy. We have received life’s greatest blessings.