Gospel Story Finder

My family and I moved to Saudi Arabia when I was 16 and my younger brother, Scott, was 14. Because there are no English schools there for high school students, Scott and I went to a boarding school in the neighboring country of Bahrain, where we were the only dorm students who were Mormons. Although we also were the only dorm students who regularly attended church, and we didn’t smoke, drink, or put pinups in our closets, most people didn’t suspect that we were Mormons. And that was fine with me. If they asked about my beliefs, I would tell them; if not, fine. Who wants to be laughed at? I didn’t hide my candle under a bushel exactly, but I didn’t put it up on a hillside either.
Then came the second year—and an entirely different situation. It began when Scott was assigned to give a report on Brigham Young in his U.S. History class. I helped him gather his information on the persecution of the Saints, the move west, the building up of the Salt Lake Valley, and President Young’s accomplishments and how they affect the world today. Although I wanted Scott to give a good report, I was concerned that people would laugh at our “weird beliefs.”
I didn’t see my brother after that class or any time during the school day to ask him how it had gone. But after school a group approached me at the snack bar—the same group that went out drinking on weekends and sneaked out of the dorm at night.
“Hello, Wes. Is it really true that you are a Mormon?”
“Oh no, here it comes,” I thought. I just knew that they were going to ask me to sing some Tabernacle Choir songs for them. I answered, “Yes, it’s true.”
They responded with, “Far out!” Then they told me that they wished they had something to believe in, and they wondered how I could be so straight and yet still get along with everyone. As I listened to their comments, my surprise grew; I had never expected such a reaction!
From then on, my brother and I talked and talked about the Church. Friends came to us. Teachers at the school began reading the Book of Mormon and A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. A few of my friends began attending Church with me. My best friend went from being an atheist to bearing his testimony in church. Although none were baptized at that time, I know that some were converted.
I have since graduated, and of all the classes I took and the things I saw while living in Bahrain, that was the most outstanding lesson I learned. I came to know how true it is that the people of the world are looking for the joy that the gospel brings. It is not enough to not hide your candle under a bushel, but as every member is a missionary, it is our duty to put it up on the hill for all to see.

When I was single, I made friends with someone who decided to come back to church after many years of inactivity. She struggled with faith and testimony but continued to attend church and meet with our bishop regularly. Eventually she started dating a member of our singles ward but still struggled with her testimony. She wasn't sure what she really believed, and the lure of the world seemed much more attractive than being obedient to the teachings of Jesus Christ. In one fast and testimony meeting, she was sitting on the back row next to her boyfriend, and after several testimonies had been borne, she looked at him and said, "You don't really believe this, do you?" He looked back at her and with all seriousness said, "Yes, yes I do." His short but sincere testimony had affected her. She didn't expect an answer from him with such conviction, but when it came she felt the Spirit and realized she believed too. She took the steps necessary to prepare to enter the temple, and they were sealed in the San Diego Temple.

Her story taught me a beautiful lesson about testimony. When you bear honest, sincere testimony, the Spirit will witness the truth of it. Not only will your testimony grow, but the testimony of those around you will grow.

It was November, and for William Wood the walk home across the foggy English countryside was hard work—emotionally. The teenage butcher’s apprentice had just lost his job. And at a time when good jobs were hard to find! Inside he hurt—or maybe it was anger. Hadn’t he done a good job for Mr. Blaxall? Still, William was fired simply because he had become a Latter-day Saint. And as he walked on slowly he worried about his parents’ reaction to his changed circumstances.
Mr. Blaxall, whose family had shared their church pew with William on many Sundays, likewise tried to reconvert his young apprentice. Deep discussions, however, changed neither person. Finally, fearing loss of such important customers as the local parson, Mr. Blaxall gave William two choices: “Either quit Mormonism or find another job.”
“Sir,” answered the youth, “I will never give up my faith, but will leave your service.”
Jobless, the disappointed new convert now had to explain his new situation to his parents, who had recently move to Queensborough on the Isle of Sheppey in the mouth of the Thames River. His greatest desire now was to immigrate to Zion like many British converts had done, and along the way he tried to think of ways to earn enough money to reach Utah.
William was warmly welcomed by his parents to their new dwelling. But upon learning how he had lost his job, they pleaded with him to quit Mormonism and to return to Mr. Blaxall’s employment. “My dear mother was very sad,” William said. They worried about his loss of wages and found no comfort in his religious optimism. “I told them I was in the hands of God and inasmuch as I had obeyed His commands I had faith that I would obtain employment.”
Putting faith to work, William looked around the island for a job with his father’s help. He discovered that the Sheerness docks were extremely busy due to the war then raging in the Crimea (across the Black Sea from Turkey) where British, French, and Turkish forces battled Russian troops.
A butcher named Fillmore, with a contract to supply meat to British military units, thought William was too young and inexperienced to employ. But after watching the teenager demonstrate his meat-cutting skills, the butcher hired him. The wages? More than double the amount paid by Mr. Blaxall! “I believe to this,” William wrote 60 years later, “that the increases of wages … was a blessing from the Lord because I would not recant Mormonism and in answer to my prayers and for a fixed determination to gather to the valleys of the mountains.”

That same light showed two teenage sisters the way to go on a very frightening day in 1833. An angry mob stormed through the quiet streets of Independence, Missouri, where 15-year-old Mary Elizabeth Rollins and her 13-year-old sister Caroline lived. The terrifying mob was destroying property and burning and rioting. Some of the mobsters broke into the home of Brother William Phelps, where the printing press was located. He had been printing revelations received by the Prophet Joseph Smith. They tore apart the printing press and threw it into the street. They carried the priceless printed pages out of the building, throwing them in a pile in the yard to burn.
Mary Elizabeth and her sister Caroline were hiding behind a fence, trembling as they watched the destruction. Mary knew full well the danger of angry mobs, but in spite of that, she felt the urgency to save those precious pages. The two teenage sisters ran out to the street, grabbed armfuls of the scriptures, and fled. Some of the mob saw this and ordered them to stop as they chased after the courageous sisters. The girls ran into a large cornfield, where they fell breathless to the ground. Between the rows of corn they laid the copies of the revelations on the ground and then spread themselves over the pages. The men were relentless in their search for the girls among the tall cornstalks, coming very near at times, but they never were able to find the girls, and eventually they gave up and left to finish their destruction in the town.
The light of the Lord showed those young women what to do and where to go for safety. That same light shines for you. It can keep you safe as it did them. We have a sculpture of those sisters in the Young Women office to remind us of the courage of young women then and now.

"I recently recalled a historic meeting in Jerusalem about 17 years ago. It was regarding the lease for the land on which the Brigham Young University's Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies was later built. Before this lease could be signed, President Ezra Taft Benson and Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, then president of Brigham Young University, agreed with the Israeli government on behalf of the Church and the university not to proselyte in Israel."
"You might wonder why we agreed not to proselyte. We were required to do so in order to get the building permit to build that magnificent building which stands in the historic city of Jerusalem. To our knowledge, the Church and BYU have scrupulously and honorably kept that non-proselyting commitment. After the lease had been signed, one of our friends insightfully remarked, Oh, we know that you are not going to proselyte, but what are you going to do about the light that is in their eyes?' He was referring to our students who were studying in Israel"

Once there were two men—one whose name was Ef and the other whose name was Ez. This incident occurred some years ago in the back country where education was at a premium. Ef had a slate and a piece of chalk, and he was sitting under a tree in the shade on a warm day. As he was writing on this slate with his chalk, Ez sauntered up to him. Ef turned and said, “Look, Ez, I can write.” Ez was impressed. He replied, “That’s great. What does it say?” Ef answered, “I don’t know; I haven’t learned to read yet.”

For years, I took notes from each general conference talk but never looked at those notes again. At the completion of the October 2021 conference, I felt impressed to incorporate my notes into my life. My new plan took key thoughts from my notes and focused on one thought a week for the next six months. That gave me a message to focus on every week until the next conference.
This practice follows the prophet’s counsel to study general conference teachings. “I exhort you to study the messages of this conference frequently—even repeatedly—during the next six months,” President Russell M. Nelson said. “Conscientiously look for ways to incorporate these messages in your family home evenings, your gospel teaching, your conversations with family and friends, and even your discussions with those not of our faith.”
As a single mother of four single adults, this strategy helps me refocus and refine my goals to become a better person and mother and to strive to become more like the Savior each day.
My process is not the only way to study conference. I offer it as a suggestion as you make your own plan to implement the teachings of general conference in your life. Here’s how it works for me:
I listen to each talk and write the important insights that touch my heart, as well as thoughts I receive from the Spirit. At the end of each session, I listen to the Spirit as I highlight one or two things from each talk that I feel I need to work on or that will remind me how to become more Christlike.
Then I choose 26 highlighted thoughts and assign one a week until the next general conference. I type the thoughts into a list and assign each a Sunday date. I place this list on my bathroom mirror as a reminder. I also assign these weekly thoughts on my phone calendar. Each Sunday I receive a reminder to start a new focus. This thought will be at the front of my mind as I pray each morning for help throughout the day. Each night, I review with Heavenly Father how I did that day.
I post a list of general conference messages on my bathroom mirror to remind myself of what I’d like to work on until the next conference.
Here is an example of the first month of my calendar after last conference:
April 7: Read Doctrine and Covenants 109 (the Kirtland Temple dedicatory prayer).
April 14: Say “thank you,” “I’m sorry,” and “I love you.” Say them often and sincerely.
April 21: Unkind feelings or thoughts toward others will cause the Spirit to withdraw from us.
April 28: Have confidence in the covenants made with God through Jesus Christ. Honor the covenants we have made.
As I’ve implemented this plan, I’ve felt closer to the Spirit. I am reminded of the thoughts that touched my heart during general conference. I apply them each day instead of closing my notebook after conference, never to look at my notes again. I still enjoy relistening to the conference talks. But now I also have a weekly focus from my personal notes.

I would like to acknowledge the work that is put into the New Era. I am the editor of the branch paper, and am finding it a challenge to get it out every month. About four years ago I had a letter published in Feedback. Because of that letter, I gained a very special friend. Lori Wall saw my letter and found it very close to her ideals. She wrote to me, and we have been writing to each other ever since. We hope someday to meet each other. I feel that I have known her since the time before we came to earth. I know that I have come to know a very special spirit and sister. Thank you so much for helping us meet each other. I hope that you have made someone else as happy as myself.
Petra MillsOrange, N.S.W., Australia

John Taylor stayed with the Prophet Joseph Smith, his brother Hyrum Smith, and Elder Willard Richards at Carthage Jail. John sang to help comfort the prisoners.
John: “A poor wayfaring Man of griefHath often crossed me on my way …”*
After John had sung it once, the Prophet Joseph asked him to sing it again.
Joseph: Sing that song again, will you, John?
John: I do not feel like singing.
Hyrum: Yes, please sing that song again.
Joseph: You’ll feel better once you begin, and so will I.
John: “A poor wayfaring Man of griefHath often crossed me on my way …”
Then a mob of men with painted faces and guns stormed up the stairs to the room where the Prophet and the other prisoners were staying.
Mobster: The Mormon Prophet is up here!!
Elder Richards tried to keep the mob out of the room with a hickory cane, but could not. The mob killed Hyrum. Then Joseph ran to the window and was shot by more members of the mob from below.
Elder Taylor was shot five times. One of the bullets was stopped by the watch in his vest pocket. That saved his life.
Later, he wrote this about Joseph Smith.
John: “Joseph Smith, the Prophet and Seer of the Lord, has done more, save Jesus only, for the salvation of men in this world, than any other man that ever lived in it.”**

When I was an undergraduate, I had the privilege of studying at the BYU Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies. On one field trip we visited an area in which a large stone tower stood. From the tower a watchman could detect threats before they were visible from the ground, protecting the olive, fig, and grape vineyard from plunder.
Years later I reenacted this scene with my family in family home evening. We live in a two-story home. Our backyard is relatively flat close to the home but descends rapidly into a wooded area. For our family home evening lesson, all but one member of the family stayed on the main floor and looked out the windows toward the backyard. One family member climbed the stairs to a second-story bedroom with a window that also looked toward the backyard.
I hid in the backyard and, unbeknownst to my children, was armed with a bow and arrow. Now, with my skills as an archer, I might have been able to harm someone only by accident, but I looked menacing, and that was enough for our lesson.
As I climbed the wooded ascent toward our home, the members of my family on the main floor could not see me. They saw only the grass and trees in our backyard. I was detected, however, by the child at the upstairs window. Before I could lunge from the woods in surprise, I was spotted, and a warning cry went out to those below.

Returning to the family home evening I described earlier, after I was discovered approaching the home with a bow and arrow, we repeated the experience with some modification. A different child took the post at the second-story window. This time I placed our family home evening treat in the garden, a sunken area just beyond the grass of our yard. As before, members of the family on the main floor could not see the treat. Again, however, the watchman at the second-story window could spot the treat that awaited us.

After Sister Teh and I dated for a little while, it became obvious that I wanted to spend eternity with her. Naturally, I made it a subject of earnest prayer and fasting. No particular change in my feeling followed. I did not feel a burning in my bosom. I did, however, continue to feel good about my decision, so I persevered. Sister Teh got the same answer, so here we are. Since that experience, I have arrived at many of my decisions in a similar fashion (see D&C 6:22–23).
Contrast that with experiences I now have concerning specific assignments from the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles to call a new stake president. As I approach this assignment in the spirit of prayer and fasting, I have been blessed with distinct impressions that help me know who should be called. The impressions come sometimes before, sometimes during, or sometimes even after the interview process. I always feel a burning in my bosom. I have since recognized that as the way the Holy Ghost guides me in such assignments.

I have seen answers to that prayer. I have seen the miracle of the expansion of this cause and kingdom and can testify of it.
In 1960, only twenty-seven years ago, I was given an assignment by the First Presidency to work with the mission presidents, the missionaries, and the Saints in Asia. The Church was weak and small in that part of the earth. The seed had been planted in Japan, Taiwan, and Korea by faithful Latter-day Saints in military service. But it was tiny and unstable. We had no buildings of our own. We met as small groups in rented houses. In winter they were cold and uncomfortable. Converts came into the Church. But some, lacking faith, soon left. However, there remained a residual of strong and wonderful men and women who looked beyond the adversity of the moment. They found their strength in the message, not in the facilities. They have remained faithful to this day, and their numbers have been added to by the tens and tens of thousands.
A few Sundays back we held a regional conference in Tokyo. The spacious hall was filled to capacity. There were almost as many present on that occasion as there are assembled in the Salt Lake Tabernacle this morning. The Spirit of the Lord was there. An attitude of faith filled that vast congregation. For me, who had known those days when we were weak and few in number, it was a miracle to behold, for which I give thanks to the Lord.
We had a similar experience in Hong Kong, where there are now four stakes of Zion.
Then in Seoul, Korea, my heart was touched as we entered the largest hall in that great city to find every seat taken by members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and their invited guests. A magnificent choir of 320 voices opened with the strains “Oh, how lovely was the morning” (“Joseph Smith’s First Prayer,” Hymns, 1985, no. 26). It was a moving expression of the first vision of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
I had known South Korea in its days of poverty and reconstruction following the terrible war. When first I went there, we had six missionaries in Seoul and two in Pusan. Some were ill with hepatitis. Today there are four thriving missions in that land, with some six hundred missionaries. Many of the missionaries are sons and daughters of Korea. They include bright and beautiful young women in whose hearts burns the light of faith. They include young men who leave schooling for a season in order to serve missions. These young men are under tremendous pressures because of military requirements as well as educational demands, but they have faith in their hearts.
When first I went to South Korea, there were two or three tiny branches. Today there are one hundred fifty local units of the Church, both wards and branches. Then it was a small, isolated district of the Northern Far East Mission. We had no chapels. Today there are 14 stakes with 47 chapels built and owned and another 52 under lease, with others under construction.
I felt a spirit in that congregation three weeks ago that touched me to the depths of my soul. I saw the sweet fruits of faith. I knew of the early struggles in establishing an unknown church. I knew of the poverty of the people. Now there is strength. There is an undreamed-of measure of prosperity. There is a warm spirit of fellowship. There are families of devoted husbands and wives and good and beautiful children.
These are people I love, and I love them because of their faith. They are intelligent and well educated. They are hardworking and progressive. They are humble and prayerful. They are an example to others across the world.

I would like to read to you part of an e-mail President Clark received from a student recently. This student was at work at a business here in Rexburg and was approached by a Bureau of Land Management employee. The following conversation took place between the BLM employee and the student:

"I have a question--Are you a student at the University?" I told him I was, and then he seriously asked, "What is a typical student like there?" I wasn't sure what he was getting at, so I paused to think how to answer him. He then explained that he had had to kick out a group of about 50 students who had built a bon fire in the wrong part of the sand dunes. He told me with slight awe that not one of them yelled or swore at him or made any sort of fuss (apparently that's what usually happens to him when he tells people they have to leave a place where they shouldn't be). They [the students] quickly obeyed and promptly put out their bon fire.
I told him that experience pretty much describes BYU-Idaho students--they probably just felt REALLY bad.
He said that was exactly the impression he'd gotten. I could tell this man had been quite impacted by this experience. It seemed like he couldn't shake off how honest and simply nice the students had been.
I felt proud to be a BYU-I student, that's for sure. What if those students HAD been rude? What kind of impact would they have had on the man then?"[3]
I am grateful that those students did what was right. They were true at all times. They had integrity.

“[Once] I stayed in the home of my niece and her family. That evening before the children went to bed, we had a short family home evening and a scripture story. Their father told about the family of Lehi and how he taught his children that they must hold fast to the iron rod, which is the word of God. Holding fast to the iron rod would keep them safe and lead them to joy and happiness. If they should let go of the iron rod, there was danger of drowning in the river of dirty water.
“To demonstrate this to the children, their mother became the ‘iron rod’ that they must cling to, and their father played the role of the devil, trying to pull the children away from safety and happiness. The children loved the story and learned how important it is to hold fast to the iron rod. After the scripture story it was time for family prayer. …
“Scriptures, family home evening, and family prayer will strengthen families. We need to take every opportunity to strengthen families and support one another to stay on the right path.”1

On the long journey by sea from India to England, Elizabeth’s infant daughter became seriously ill. She died and was buried in Liverpool. Elizabeth later said that losing her baby was so painful that she didn’t know if she could continue. Heartbroken and alone, but encouraged by Elder Franklin D. Richards of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who was serving as president of the European Mission, Elizabeth sailed for Boston, Massachusetts, USA.

After crossing an ocean, Elizabeth found herself in a completely new culture. She traveled by train to Iowa, USA, the end of the westbound railway at the time. Arriving in July 1856, Elizabeth joined the Willie handcart company.

Ever Onward, by Joseph Brickey
The suffering of the Willie and Martin handcart companies is well chronicled. The companies left late in the season and got caught in an early winter in the Rocky Mountains. Freezing and low on food, more than 200 died.
Among the rescue party sent by President Brigham Young was Elizabeth’s husband, William. The couple was reunited in deep snow and freezing wind.
After recovering in Salt Lake City, the couple ended their journey in Cedar City, only a few miles from where Rosalene’s began.

As a Kenyan teenager, Jastus Suchi Obadiah once vowed to his friends that he would physically harm any white South African he happened to meet. “My friends and I often read in the newspapers about the injustices of apartheid, and we hated white South Africans,” he explains. Fortunately, Jastus forgot his hateful vow before he ever met a South African.
As a young man, Jastus was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by his cousin, a Church member. “I’ll never forget the first missionaries who taught me; one was a black African, and one was a white elder from the United States,” says Jastus. As Jastus observed these two young men working together in harmony, “I learned there were many good people no matter what their color.
“As they taught me, the principle of love came into my heart. I realized that to be like God, you really must be loving. My sense of love grew—even for my enemies.” Two years after his baptism, Jastus was himself a missionary, serving in the Kenya Nairobi Mission.
Jastus and his senior companion seemed to work particularly well together; they shared a strong mutual respect and quickly became the best of friends. One day, as Jastus was looking into the white face of his South African companion, the long-forgotten vow made in his teens came rushing back to him. “It really affected my heart when I remembered what I had said. Then I realized how wonderful the gospel is, because it brings people together, no matter who we are or where we come from.
“And I felt how wonderful it is to teach this gospel together with my white companion,” he says. “The gospel changed the course of my life.”

Lizzie wiggled and squirmed as she sat watching the deacons pass the sacrament bread. She thought, It’s sure hard to sit still and be reverent while the deacons pass the bread and water. I wonder if all my friends will be in Primary today. I want to tell them about the presents Grandma and Grandpa sent from Portugal. I can’t wait to see them when they come home from their mission!
In a few minutes, a deacon reached their row. When Lizzie took a piece of bread, Mom leaned over and whispered, “This is to help us remember Jesus.”
Lizzie tried to think about all the things that she knew about Jesus. She thought about the story of Jesus visiting the Nephites after he was resurrected. He had blessed each child; then angels had come down from heaven. If only she could have been there!
Then Lizzie remembered a bedtime song Mom sometimes sang to her and her younger brother, Paul:
I think when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,
How he called little children like lambs to his fold;
I should like to have been with him then.
I wish that his hands had been placed on my head,
That his arms had been thrown around me,
That I might have seen his kind look when he said,
“Let the little ones come unto me.”*
Lizzie smiled quietly to herself and thought, I wish I could have been with Jesus then.
While she bowed her head for the prayer on the water, Lizzie listened carefully to the words. When she heard the priest say, “that they may always have his Spirit to be with them,” she wondered how she could have his Spirit with her.
The deacon passed the water to the family, and again Mom whispered to Lizzie, “This is to help us remember Jesus.”
Lizzie had a new thought. I didn’t live when Jesus was on earth, but he loves me just as much as he loved the children then. The sacrament prayer says that I can have his Spirit with me always if I remember him and am obedient. That’s great!
Lizzie snuggled up against Mom and smiled as the young men finished passing the sacrament. Thinking about Jesus had helped her be reverent during the sacrament, and she had such a good feeling inside that she knew she had done the right thing.

Everyone thought it was the coolest Christmas gift. My nine-year-old brother had just opened a huge bag of colorful, sticky, squishy toy frogs and threw one at the ceiling, where it stuck for a minute before falling to the floor. Excited, he offered frogs to the rest of us, and soon frogs decorated the ceiling, the walls, and the Christmas tree.
My brother felt so much joy from throwing these frogs that he wanted his family to experience it too. Similarly, when we feel the joy that comes from living the gospel, it’s natural to want to share that joy with others. And you can do that by participating in family history, giving your ancestors—and you—gifts that will last for eternity.

Tamika curled up under the soft blanket and took a deep breath. The quilt smelled sweet, like the cherry lotion her grandma used. She loved that smell.
“Gram, I’m glad Mama and I came,” Tamika said.
Gram sat on the bed next to Tamika and stroked her hair. “I’m glad too. Do you want a bedtime story?”
Tamika nodded. “Tell me about when Grammy Rose escaped.” Tomorrow they were visiting a place where her great-grandma Rose might have stayed, and she wanted to hear the story again.
“Again?” Gram laughed. “All right. That’s one of my favorites too.” She leaned back and got comfortable.
“Your great-grandma Rose lived on a big farm called a plantation with her mama and daddy. They were slaves, and they wanted to be free,” Gram said. “One day, Rose’s mama died of a fever. Her daddy decided it was time to escape with Rose.”
Gram’s fingers traced lines along the quilt as she talked, like she was tracing a map of the journey.
“They left at night and followed the North Star. It’s part of a constellation called the Big Dipper,” Gram said. “Back then, slaves called it the Drinking Gourd.”
“What’s a gourd?” Tamika asked.
“It’s like a squash. Slaves would use hollowed-out gourds as spoons to scoop water from buckets to drink,” Gram said. “Rose and her daddy followed the Drinking Gourd north. People from the Underground Railroad helped them along the way.”
Tamika nodded. She knew that the Underground Railroad wasn’t really a railroad. It was a name for the people who helped slaves escape to safety. Tomorrow Tamika and her mom were going to a house called Slave Haven, where some of the slaves hid on their journey north.
“But we don’t know for sure if Grammy Rose stayed in Slave Haven,” Tamika said.
Gram looked thoughtful. “That’s right. Rose couldn’t write, so we don’t know the exact places she stayed,” Gram said. “But when I was a girl, Rose told me her story, and I wrote it in my journal.”
Tamika sat up. “Can I read what you wrote?”
Gram nodded. “We can look at it tomorrow—”
Just then, Mama came in to kiss Tamika goodnight.
“Are you two still talking about Grammy Rose?” Mama said. “Tomorrow you can explore secret passages and trap doors at Slave Haven. But right now, it’s time for bed.”
As Mama tucked the blankets around Tamika, Gram told her one more thing about Rose.
“Grammy Rose always said that miracles from God brought her safely north. That taught me to look for miracles every day,” Gram said. “Like warm sunshine.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Mama said, looking at Gram. “Or a beautiful smile.” She turned to Tamika. “Or the miracle of Tamika finally falling asleep!”
Tamika laughed. She had never thought about sunshine and smiles as miracles, but the world would be pretty dark and sad without them!
Tamika felt happy and warm thinking about how brave her great-great-grandma was. Just before Gram shut the door, an idea popped into Tamika’s head.
“Gram? Can I have a journal? I want to look for miracles and write them down too,” Tamika said.
“We’ll get you one tomorrow,” Gram said.
“I know what my miracle is today,” Tamika said.
“What?” asked Gram.
“It’s you,” Tamika said. “And Mama, and us coming to visit, and learning about Grammy Rose …” Tamika’s words became softer and softer until she finally fell asleep, curled up beneath the warm, sweet-smelling quilt.

One day I was feeling down and I remembered something someone told me: “If you don’t know that Heavenly Father loves you, ask Him.” So I did just that. I didn’t hear a small voice say, “Yes, absolutely” or “Of course I love you,” but I did feel prompted to read my patriarchal blessing. So I pulled it out.
Before I read a single word, I was overcome with emotion. I felt the Spirit testify to me in my heart boldly that my Heavenly Father loves me and that my patriarchal blessing is not just a blessing about the future but also a blessing of love and comfort whenever I need it.