Gospel Story Finder

“Sister Hopkins, these are the 10 Sunbeams you will be teaching this year,” the counselor in the Primary presidency announced. I was a new convert, and I admit that this calling terrified me. How could I teach what I did not yet have a firm understanding of? How would I handle so many energetic children? But the bishop and Primary president assured me I would be blessed for tackling this daunting calling.
I knew I’d have to pour myself into learning the gospel in order to teach it, so each week I read the manual—a source of abundant gospel light—and prayed and pondered how the principles applied to my life and to the children’s. As I studied and taught, I gained a testimony of our divine birthright as children of God. I discovered the worth and uniqueness of each soul. Simple Primary lessons not only illuminated the faces of His precious children, but they also blossomed the seed of testimony I had had when I entered the waters of baptism.
That precious year with the Sunbeams has made me forever grateful for a calling that changed my life. I was changed, as were the children, by the teachings of Jesus Christ.

In the weeks following my diagnosis I often found myself on my knees, pleading with the Lord. I learned that Parkinson’s is a progressive disease and that I would continue to lose control of my muscles. The more I read, the more frightened I became. I spent many sleepless nights. I also felt an impression from the first words of the diagnosis that there would be no miracles to remove this trial from me and that I needed to learn something from this experience. I felt so alone and wondered if the Lord was displeased with me, if He still loved me.
Then one night, as Ron was getting ready to go to Mutual, there was a knock at our door. We opened the door and found a delicious meal left anonymously on our front porch. A loving note stated that every week on this night a dinner would arrive. As I tasted the goodness of this delicious meal, not only was my body fed, but my spirit also. I realized I am not alone and the Lord does love me. I tasted again of the sweet peace He has promised us. I was grateful for these dear secret angels who honored their baptismal covenants “to mourn with those that mourn” and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9). I knew that through the ministering of these “earthly angels” I would find the strength to make it through each day.
It has now been more than three years since we found that first dinner. Every Mutual night since then we have received a wonderful meal, always left anonymously on our front porch. Ward boundaries have changed, and people have moved in and out of our ward. But the meals continue to come. Often I have struggled with a particularly difficult day, forgetting it is our “Secret Angels Day.” And then the doorbell rings, and I find another delicious gift of love.

During the last general conference, a relatively insignificant thing caught my attention. It was a necktie! As a choir of young boys and girls was singing, one of the TV cameras happened upon a young boy in the choir. He thought he saw himself on the television monitor but perhaps wasn’t completely sure. So this is what he did: by wiggling his tie almost unnoticeably, he knew—yes—it was really him!
And now to you, my young friend with the tie, yes, it is you. You and the millions like you, if you prepare well, will be the faithful mothers and fathers in the Church and the Lord’s future leaders. You will be the teachers and leaders that will continue to establish the Church throughout the world. You will probably want to look in the mirror periodically and remind yourselves of the great mission that lies before you, and perhaps you might even want to wiggle your tie just to remind yourself of your important mission ahead. May you stand straight and noble in your callings.

Anisberto meant to be careful cutting the sugarcane, but somehow his big machete slipped. When the Perez family saw their nine-year-old son’s wound, they were frightened and took him to the missionaries for help.
The tip of Anisberto’s finger was almost cut off, and Elder McClellan and his companion struggled for more than three hours before they could stop the bleeding. The missionaries knew that Anisberto needed a doctor, but there was no medical help on the small island in the Caribbean Sea.
At first, flying to the mainland seemed a frightening experience to Anisberto. But when Elder McClellan said he would go too, the boy was no longer afraid.
Early the next morning a dugout canoe took the Indian boy and his missionary friend to meet the plane. Before leaving the island, they offered a special prayer and asked our Father in heaven to protect them as they traveled.
The plane was crowded when it arrived on the island, so Elder McClellan held Anisberto on his lap.
The sandy landing strip was soft from the night’s rain, making it difficult to reach takeoff speed. At the end of the runway the pilot lifted the plane sharply, but the slow speed dragged it back down. Windows shattered as the aircraft crashed into the ocean!
A wing near Anisberto collapsed. Water, broken glass, and panic filled the cabin as Anisberto wiggled free from the seat belt and swam out the opposite side. Elder McClellan was forced underwater, but finally he too was able to swim out through a broken window. He found Anisberto treading water.
Sensing that the plane could not stay afloat much longer, Elder McClellan took hold of Anisberto and started to swim back to the island, calling to the other passengers to follow. Just as the plane sunk out of sight, boats arrived and picked up the tired swimmers. Soon everyone was safely back on shore.
Anisberto’s family greeted the two travelers calmly. “We knew the Lord would save you,” they explained.
They also knew Anisberto still needed to see a doctor. So a boat was found and hours later, after a chilly ride, the elder and the boy reached the mainland, where a doctor treated the wound.
Afterward Anisberto wondered about flying back to the island. He kept his courage, however, and agreed to fly if Elder McClellan was with him. The trip home was without accident.
Before long Anisberto was taken back to the mainland hospital, because the doctor found that his finger was not healing. A few days later Elder McClellan was also hospitalized with bronchial pneumonia. Now the two friends were together again and together they became well.
Anisberto’s experience showed him and his family that our Heavenly Father loves His children everywhere in the world.
Remembering his Indian friend, Elder McClellan says, “I still marvel at the courage and trust of young Anisberto.”

From among many exemplary lives in our rich history as a people, I wish to share examples from just two. The first is from the life of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
During a bitter winter of imprisonment in Richmond, Missouri, Joseph and some fifty other brethren were subjected to great hardship and exposure. One of their greatest trials was to endure the blasphemies and filthy language of their guards as they boasted of their unspeakable cruelty to the Saints.
Of one particularly tedious night, Elder Parley P. Pratt wrote:
“I had listened till I became so disgusted, shocked, horrified, and so filled with the spirit of indignant justice that I could scarcely refrain from rising upon my feet and rebuking the guards; but had said nothing to Joseph, or any one else, although I lay next to him and knew he was awake. On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:
“‘SILENCE, ye fiends of the infernal pit. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’
“He ceased to speak. He stood erect in terrible majesty. Chained, and without a weapon; calm, unruffled and dignified as an angel, he looked upon the quailing guards, whose weapons were lowered or dropped to the ground; whose knees smote together, and who, shrinking into a corner, or crouching at his feet, begged his pardon, and remained quiet till a change of guards.”
Elder Pratt continues:
“I have seen the ministers of justice, clothed in magisterial robes, and criminals arraigned before them, while life was suspended on a breath, in the Courts of England; I have witnessed a Congress in solemn session to give laws to nations; I have tried to conceive of kings, of royal courts, of thrones and crowns; and of emperors assembled to decide the fate of kingdoms; but dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1975], pp. 210–11).
Does not this image of the Prophet Joseph courageously rebuking the forces of evil move us to do likewise?

Clara and her family had just been baptized. Clara liked going to church together on Sunday.
One Sunday the Primary president said there would be a Primary program soon.
“Can you read a scripture and bear your testimony in the Primary program?” she asked.
Clara nodded. She was excited! But she was nervous too. What if she made a mistake?
Clara practiced her part every night. She didn’t know all the words in the scripture yet.
“You’ll do great,” Mama said.
Clara wasn’t so sure. This was her first Primary program. All the other kids had done this before.
“Remember, if you do your best, Heavenly Father will do the rest,” Papa told her.
The night before the program, Clara prayed for help. She stayed on her knees and thought about her part. She felt good about it.
On Sunday morning Clara prayed that she wouldn’t be scared.
When it was her turn, Clara walked to the front. She messed up one of the words in the scripture. But then she remembered how good she felt after her prayer. She smiled and bore her testimony. She talked about how much she loved Jesus.
Clara smiled as she sat back down. She knew Heavenly Father didn’t care that she didn’t say her part perfectly. He cared what was in her heart.

Beth walked into her grandmother’s living room and stopped short, staring at dozens of brightly decorated Easter eggs. “Gram!” she gasped. “I never knew you had so many!”
“Yes, I do have a lot,” Gram said, looking around. “I’m glad you came, dear. You can help me sort through them. I told the children’s librarians that this year they could have the display earlier.”
Beth knelt in front of the sofa where several eggs were lying. “Oh, Gram, I remember this one. Didn’t the Phantom give it to you?” She carefully held up a sequin-encrusted egg.
“Yes, and it’s one of my favorites. I got it about ten years ago. I’ve decided to make a special display this year of eggs from the Phantom—in his memory.”
Beth stared at her grandmother. “What do you mean ‘in his memory’? Was Gramps the Phantom?”
“Yes, Beth, it was Gramps. Every Easter morning from the time we were married I found a tiny basket with a handmade Easter egg in it on the doorstep.” Gram’s smile started to waver a little. “Every egg was different. Easter just won’t seem the same this year without the Phantom. That’s why I decided to let the library have the display early. There won’t be a new egg to wait for this year.”
Beth got up to hug her grandmother. “Did Gramps know that you knew that he was the Phantom?” she asked.
Gram wiped her eyes on the corner of the apron she was wearing. “Oh, I’m sure he suspected I knew that it was him, but I never let on. It was kind of a delightful game that we played with each other. Every year before Easter he’d spend hours in his workshop and never tell me what he was doing. I’m sure he practiced on a lot of eggs. You know what a perfectionist he was.” Gram laughed through misty eyes. “I’d give a lot to know what he did with all those eggs!”
Beth laughed too. “Did Gramps fix breakfast a lot?”
“Now that I think of it, he did. And I’ll bet you can guess what we usually had.”
“Eggs!” Beth shouted.
The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly as they sorted and packed the eggs. Gram had a story to tell about each one.
A look of understanding spread across Mother’s face. “Were you helping Gram get her eggs ready for the library display this week?”
Beth nodded. “And do you know what? I found out that Gramps was the Phantom all along. Did you know that, Mom?”
“Did I ever! I remember all the eggs we used to eat. It’s a wonder I didn’t sprout feathers when I was growing up!” Mother smiled at the memory. “I never let on to Gramps that I knew though. It would have spoiled his fun. He got such a kick out of surprising Gram.”

Brother Anthian has several goals for the choir. One is to infuse joy, love, and hope into the lives of men who have in the past sought to salve their pain with drugs, alcohol, and other vices. The fulfillment of this goal is clear in the life of Nicolas “Colas” Allaire, who hands out roses during subway concerts. Now 65, Colas was raised in a Montréal orphanage until age 17. With no formal education and no family, friends, or money, he was never able to find work. In winter he made snow caves to keep from freezing to death. Sometimes he committed crimes just to be put in jail so he would have something to eat every day. This is his first regular job. Since joining the choir, he says, “my life has been paradise. I have made friends, and I have started to support myself. I now have a small apartment, and I am happy.”

And I remember hearing in New Zealand the testimony of a man from the far side of Australia who, having been previously sealed by civil authority and then joined the Church with his wife and children, had traveled all the way across that wide continent, then across the Tasman Sea to Auckland, and down to the temple in the beautiful valley of the Waikata. As I remember his words, he said, “We could not afford to come. Our worldly possessions consisted of an old car, our furniture, and our dishes. I said to my family, ‘We cannot afford to go.’ Then I looked into the faces of my beautiful wife and our beautiful children, and I said, ‘We cannot afford not to go. If the Lord will give me strength, I can work and earn enough for another car and furniture and dishes, but if I should lose these my loved ones, I would be poor indeed in both life and in eternity.’”

Lisa Griffiths, who plays the role of Kris Douglas, learned some valuable lessons when she had to put herself in her character’s shoes. When Lisa went to audition for the part, she had her confidence shaken. “I asked myself, What am I doing here? My application, where I was supposed to list my experience and training, was blank. I prayed very hard that if I needed to do the role because there was something I had to give to the character or that she had to give to me, I would know how to read the script.”
When Lisa got the part, she told her roommates, “I had the best acting coach—the Lord. That must have been it, because I certainly was not as experienced as the others.”
Lisa said that in some ways she is like Kris, but in others she isn’t. She knows a lot about her character and can anticipate what Kris might do in different situations. “Kris always seems to know how to phrase things or how to subtly get the message across. I can feel it, but verbalizing it is hard for me.
“She has incorporated the scriptures into her life. She really tries to apply what she is reading to what she is doing,” Lisa said when she described Kris, almost as if this fictional character were a close friend. “She does start to resent the fact that she is always the good one and her twin sister gets a lot of attention for the rebellious things she does. She focuses on herself for a little while until she straightens it out.”
Lisa applied the lesson she learned from playing the part of Kris to her own life. “I learned to check where my focus was. I was pulling on some natural feelings. I have a sister who is a performer. She’s fantastic, and I look up to her in so many ways. I have felt the role before of the younger sister that doesn’t get the attention sometimes. There have been times I have let that get to me, so I knew that what Kris was feeling really happens—that you really do get jealous. I can see when my focus was on myself, when I wasn’t applying things I had learned in church, things didn’t work out. I still have to do that kind of checking.”
Lisa is a little embarrassed to remember that she and her friends used to laugh a little at the filmstrips they watched in seminary. That made her want to perform so that her character was believable. “I wanted to make this character real so that at least one person who watched it would stop and say, What is she really saying? What is she really wondering about? The whole cast set that as a goal.
“I did make fun of the filmstrips when I was in seminary,” said Lisa. “We had little jokes about what they were wearing and their hairstyles. I can remember when the wardrobe lady was dressing me and doing my hair. I thought, Now I know why we laughed. I would laugh sometimes at myself while I was doing it. It was a humbling experience. There is a message behind what the characters are wearing and how their hair looks. There is a message or a mood behind it all.”
Kris talked about the most difficult part of the video for her. “The hardest scene for me,” said Lisa, “was when I was sitting on the porch with my grandfather and we are looking at the stars. He’s saying how lonely it feels when he looks up there. Kris sees it as the Lord saying He is there for people and that He loves you no matter what. That was a hard scene for me because I believed what I was saying, and I was very worried that it would come across sappy or trite to high school students watching it. There are times we do feel alone, but there are times when we’ve got to know that we really are not. The Lord is there for us.”
Learning that each of us has to rely on guidance from our Heavenly Father is the whole purpose of the “I Will Lead You” videotape. And that guidance is contained in the scriptures. Lisa said, “I learned to read my scriptures every day to get something out of them to hold onto. That was the idea of the films. Sometimes you can’t handle it all. You just don’t have the answers. It doesn’t make sense, and it doesn’t seem fair. You have to remember that even if you don’t feel the Lord, his hand is there and he is leading you.”

Sasha K., age 11, Moscow, Russia
Two years ago a new boy joined our class at school. He was unkind to others. Everyone started to dislike him and be unkind to him. It seemed to make him sad, so I didn’t do what the others did. Several of my friends noticed and followed my example. I believe that if I do what God wants me to do, I will be happier and safer. I believe that if I have courage and speak my mind, I will find friends who will like me just the way I am.

Everyone has imperfections, and sometimes these shortcomings become more apparent in marriage. When Ken Nollsch of Highlands Ranch, Colorado, married his wife, Chalyce, he was continuing to overcome his long-held fears of being an inadequate spouse. As he has learned to share his burdens with the Lord, his fears have diminished.
Brother Nollsch wants to be fully committed, he says, “to putting her needs ahead of mine,” explaining, “I worry about how I spend my time and about staying away from selfish activities.” When Brother Nollsch gets overwhelmed by his fears, he reminds himself to emulate the example of the Savior, who said humbly to Heavenly Father, “Thy will be done” (Matt. 26:42). “I say that over and over in my mind, and then I move on to what I need to accomplish,” Brother Nollsch says.
Brother Nollsch says his confidence in himself and in his wife has grown over time. He also focuses on the joy he finds in being a husband and father. “God wants us to be happy, and being a husband and father is one of the best ways to find happiness,” he says.

While listening to a presentation on family history, stake president David Pickup in Chorley, England, felt an impression that indexing could help the members of his stake increase their desire to worship in the temple. But he wondered, how would something that looked like common data entry lead people to the temple?
He decided to try indexing and found that it brought an added measure of the Spirit of Elijah into his life. For him, indexing has become a “refining” work. “You cannot index without thinking about not only the names being indexed but also your own family names,” he says.
President Pickup challenged the members of his stake to use indexing as a way to participate in family history work. Within a short time, he and other stake leaders noticed a significant increase in temple recommend worthiness and sacrament meeting attendance. They noticed that the members who participated in indexing were developing a desire to take their own family names to the temple.
Indexing helped the members of the Chorley stake by bringing an added measure of the Spirit into their lives and by giving them the tools they needed to take their family names to the temple. “You don’t need to be temple worthy to index,” President Pickup says, “but when you index, it will refine you, and you will want to be temple worthy, and you will want to go to the temple, and you will want to do work for your ancestors. … I know this because it happened to me.”

Two weeks later, as sacrament meeting began, the priests and deacons took their places close to the sacrament table. Because we have a large ward, three priests are required, with one sitting next to the wall serving as a witness. I noticed right away that Scott and Clint had taken the two positions of the priests who did administer the sacrament prayers. I was more than a bit nervous because, to my knowledge, Scott had never offered a sacrament prayer due to his difficulty in reading and speaking. Out of my apprehension, I looked at Clint who, as usual, seemed unconcerned and was calmly looking around the chapel. My inability to attract his attention to the matter worsened my fear, and I nearly arose to straighten out the situation. I did not want Scott to be embarrassed by failing to properly offer the prayer. Yet I didn’t want to disappoint him by asking him to leave.
Before I could decide what to do, the meeting began and proceeded as usual. I thought no one was aware, except the priests and me, of what was going to happen. But when it was time to have the blessing on the water, and Scott knelt before the sacrament, I knew I was not the only one whose heart began to beat faster. Everyone suddenly quieted, even the babies. Scott began to slowly say the prayer, sounding each word carefully and distinctly, occasionally mispronouncing one and having to say it again correctly before going on. The air was electric. It was possible to feel everyone’s attention riveted on that boy, giving him silent support. I followed word by word that familiar and oft-repeated prayer. Finally, after what seemed a long time, he finished with a resounding “Ah-men,” and the relieved congregation responded with an “Amen” that truly was a united voice of gratitude.
Scott was so pleased with himself that for a moment he stood smiling, looking around the chapel before thinking to hand the trays to the waiting deacons. I was so relieved and pleased he had succeeded that I failed to recognize for several days he had helped everyone pay more attention to each word of the sacrament prayer. Because of him the prayer that day had added significance. It truly was a unifying spiritual event for all who were there. After the meeting, as we congratulated Scott, Clint matter-of-factly told of teaching the prayer to him, and they both went their separate ways.

While serving in Pennsylvania several years ago, I was pleasantly surprised to be visited by a minister of a huge Protestant congregation. We exchanged pleasantries and discussed the doctrinal subjects on which we could find benign agreement. Suddenly he interrupted our conversation by stating, “You teach one belief with which I could never agree. It is your idea that ‘as God is, man may become.’” (See History of the Church, 6:302–17.) He held a well-worn white Bible in his hand. I asked him to turn to Matthew 5:48. His nimble fingers quickly turned to that reference, and he read, “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.”

He gasped and then hesitatingly agreed to man’s great potential. We read other scriptures, such as: “And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” (Gen. 1:26.) He understood, and found a new respect for our teachings. He left a wiser man, and I felt a renewed gratitude for the inspiring truths that we understand and teach.

In December 1967, Brother Ed Ka-mauoha was appointed to be the new headmaster at Sauniatu. For years, Sauniatu had been functioning as a school, but when he arrived, the future of Sauniatu was once again in question.
“There were real administrative questions about the efficiency and quality of the school,” he explained. Everyone in Samoa is required to take a standard government education test when they leave high school, and the Sauniatu scores were an average five points below the scores of students from the other Church schools in Samoa. In addition to the low test scores, it was costly to operate the remote school. Many of the students were from very poor families and could not afford to pay more tuition. Enthusiasm among students and teachers was low.
“I felt bad about the school,” he said. “As an administrator, I understood the problems, but I also understood what the tradition of Sauniatu means to the Saints in Samoa. I knew the place was not what it could be because it was not living up to President McKay’s 1921 blessing.”
Ed Kamauoha believed Sauniatu had a prophetic future yet to be fulfilled if each person living there cared. His mind remained restless and his wirey Polynesian body became charged with nervous energy as he began planning to meet the many requirements needed to make the students of Sauniatu self-sufficient and proud and to help the community of Sauniatu reap the promised blessings.
The projects he outlined for the betterment of Sauniatu were big projects. In many people’s minds, they were too big for a handful of teachers and a few dozen school children to handle. Yet Brother Kamauoha felt they could do it.
“Getting everyone to work on big projects is like starting a large machine. You just can’t let it idle; you have to really rev it up and keep it going,” said Brother Kamauoha.
He also felt that the students’ performance in school would improve and the morale among the teachers would also improve if they knew they had some control over their own future. “We had been waiting for others to help us at Sauniatu,” explained Brother Kamauoha. “I tried to teach the people that they had depended too much on outside help and assistance from others. I told them the Lord gives us brains and a pair of hands but they won’t help us unless we use them. And so we started building roads, and we did it by hand.”

I was sitting behind two teenage girls on a bus. One of them was upset because her parents couldn’t afford to buy a dress she had wanted. She didn’t really like her second choice.
“Then Mom was upset because I didn’t say thank you,” she complained. “I don’t know what she expected me to say thank you for!”
Ungrateful child, I thought.
Not long after that, I began pondering the promise of “a blessing that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (3 Ne. 24:10). Although I had been paying my tithing and fulfilling my other obligations, I did not feel overwhelmed with blessings. In fact, I felt that I had little to be grateful for.
Suddenly, my experience on the bus flashed through my mind. I, too, had been an ungrateful child. First as a trickle and then increasing to a torrent, there came to me a powerful awareness of the blessings I had received. From tiny everyday blessings to the great blessing of the Atonement, the gifts God had given me were both abundant and wondrous. The windows of heaven had been open all the time. I just hadn’t noticed. My soul filled with such gratitude that I felt physically unable to bear it.
That night I understood for the first time that when gratitude fills our hearts, there is no room for unhappiness. Happiness, I decided, does not depend on obtaining all the desires of our hearts. In large measure, happiness depends on our ability to feel gratitude for the abundance we already have.

Some years ago my wife, Harriet, and I had a memorable experience in which we saw this promise fulfilled. We were in West Africa, a beautiful part of the world where the Church is growing and the Latter-day Saints are delightful. However, West Africa also has many challenges. In particular, I was sorrowed by the poverty that I saw. In the cities there is high unemployment, and families often struggle to provide for their daily needs and for their safety. It broke my heart to know that many of our precious members of the Church live in such deprivation. But I also learned that these fine members help each other to lighten their heavy burdens.

We eventually arrived at one of our meetinghouses near a large city. But instead of finding a people burdened and absorbed by darkness, we discovered a joyful people who were radiating with light! The happiness they felt for the gospel was contagious and lifted our spirits. The love they expressed for us was humbling. Their smiles were genuine and infectious.

I remember wondering at the time if there could possibly be a happier people on the face of the planet. Even though these dear Saints were surrounded by difficulties and trials, they were filled with light!

The meeting began, and I started to speak. But soon the power went out in the building, and we were left in complete darkness.

For a while I could hardly see anyone in the congregation, but I could see and feel the brilliant and beautiful smiles of our Saints. Oh, how I loved being with these wonderful people!

The darkness in the chapel continued, and so I sat next to my wife and waited for the power to be restored. As we waited, something remarkable happened.

A few voices began singing one of the hymns of the Restoration. And then others joined in. And then more. Soon, a sweet and overwhelming chorus of voices filled the chapel.

These members of the Church did not need hymnbooks; they knew every word of every hymn they sang. And they sang one song after another with an energy and spirit that touched my soul.

Eventually, the lights sparked back on and bathed the room with light. Harriet and I looked at each other, our cheeks wet with tears.

In the midst of great darkness, these beautiful, wonderful Saints had filled this Church building and our souls with light.

It was a profoundly moving moment for us—one Harriet and I will never forget.

The night before our oldest son left for his mission, we put together “the family slide show”—the best and funniest pictures of our family for 20 years. At the end of the show, we knelt in prayer together. There were plenty of tears and hugs that night. No more curtain climbers or rug rats—just imperfect young men and young women, and their imperfect parents, who felt an honest love for each other. And those feelings have kept growing.

One of our daughters, after giving birth to a baby, became seriously ill. We prayed for her, administered to her, and supported her as best we could. We hoped she would receive a blessing of healing, but days turned into months, and months turned into years. At one point I told her that this affliction might be something she would have to struggle with the rest of her life.
One morning I remember pulling out a small card and threading it through my typewriter. Among the words that I typed for her were these: “The simple secret is this: put your trust in the Lord, do your best, then leave the rest to Him.”
She did put her trust in God. But her affliction did not disappear. For years she suffered, but in due course the Lord blessed her, and eventually she returned to health.
Knowing this daughter, I believe that even if she had never found relief, yet she would have trusted in her Heavenly Father and “[left] the rest to Him.”