President Nelson says that we are to “seek and expect miracles.”

Danny asked me to tell about a specific miracle in my life, but as I awoke the other morning I realized that my whole life is a miracle.

As a non-member high school boy I was terrified to have to speak in front of more than two people.  I just wouldn't do it if it could be avoided.  More than once I skipped school to get out of it.  One of my most miserable years was when I was elected junior class president.  It happened because I was too shy to say, “I decline” when I was nominated.  I voted for one of the other five candidates.

The Church later took my insecurities all away.  It doesn't bother me a bit to stand up in front of this congregation of strangers and speak.  To me, this is the biggest miracle of all.  I relish such opportunities.  It's a miracle.

When my life hit rock bottom at age 19 I was desperate for help.  There was none available anywhere, so I did a desperate thing.  I prayed.  I'd never prayed before in my life.  I didn't know if there was a God or not, but if He was there, I needed Him—now.

The miracle was that I knew that I was being listened to, so I kept praying.  He'd been wanting to bless me all along, but had to wait until I asked for help.  He could have blessed me before, but I wouldn't have known from whence the help came, and I wouldn't have been grateful.  So He waited until I showed desire.

I calculated later that that first-ever prayer lasted four hours.  I poured everything out.  It only ended because I heard a voice.  The voice said, “Everything is going to be all right.”

I don't suppose it was an audible voice, but it was real, and it was my first experience with the Holy Ghost.  I was so shocked that I trembled.

Two weeks later a Book of Mormon was placed in my hands.  Because of that voice I knew something was going to happen when I opened that book.  I took it home and stood it up on my desk where I just looked at it for the next two weeks.  It was the last thing I saw when I went to bed, and the first thing I'd see when I awoke in the morning.

I thought the book was going to be an account of Brigham Young crossing the plains with the Saints.  But when I started reading I found that it was ancient scripture.  It was fascinating.  It even had a story line.  All I wanted to do was to read that book.  Going to work was a pain.  I found Jesus Christ.  He was real.  I had worth.  I had a bright future.  I became happy.  It was a miracle.

I asked what I needed to do to be baptized.  I was told that I would have to take the missionary discussions.  I found where the missionaries lived, and knocked on their door one evening.  I delivered the little speech I'd memorized:  “Hi, my name is James Kerns.  I'd like to hear your discussions.  I promise to not give you any trouble because I've already read the Book of Mormon and know that it's true.”

It was decades later before it dawned upon me that I'd turned the tables on how things were supposed to work.  The missionaries were supposed to have knocked on my door instead of vice versa.  Do you suppose they'd been praying for someone to teach?  Do you suppose they turned cartwheels after I left?

I endured their flannel board discussions.  I didn't learn a single thing.  I was eager to talk about the Book of Mormon.  I was on fire about the Book of Mormon, but it was only mentioned in passing.  Back then everything had to be proven by referencing the Bible.

My future father-in-law baptized me.  My girl friend took me back to her house where I broke down and sobbed like I hadn't done since I was a little child.  I was clean!  All the stupid things I'd ever done were gone.  All my sins were erased!  I was clean!  It was a miracle.

A year and a half after our marriage, our first child was ready to be delivered.  I gave my wife a priesthood blessing before we left for the hospital.  The blessing said that the baby would be born naturally.

But at the hospital it was discovered that the baby was big, and was upside down.  The doctor wanted to do a cesarean.  Marjorie asked for an hour to work at having the baby.  At the end of that hour she asked for another.  The Catholic nun who was the nurse attempted to put a medallion of the patron saint who watches over expectant mothers around Marjorie's neck.  Marjorie waved her away.  She says she knew that she was going to have the baby naturally, and she didn't want some old saint taking credit for it.  The nurse got quite testy.  She said, “Just lie there and suffer then!”

Marjorie asked for a third hour to work at having the baby, and at the end of the hour, she had the baby.  It was a miracle.  If she'd had a cesarean section we'd have been limited to having just three babies.  Instead, we had 10, and they're the best kids in the world.  Danny here is number 8.

Those 10 children have given us 56 grandchildren, and they're all firm in the gospel.  It's a miracle.

The realization came to me the other morning that my life is just a series of miracles.  I could go on forever.  I'm sure that if you analyze your own lives, you'd find the same thing.

With the Lord, all things are possible.  I've also learned that with the Lord as your partner, you can do anything.

Miracles come about through faith, prayer, and the Priesthood.  All of those were involved in Tia's miracle.  The whole ward fasted and prayed for those little girls to survive and to heal.  Their accident affected us all.  My wife didn't go to bed that night.  She stayed up and prayed.  She said that she knew that if she went to bed, Tonya would die.  She prayed all night. Tonya lived.

Where Ellen was concerned I felt that she could be healed by a priesthood blessing.  I remembered the story of Lorenzo Snow on his mission in Italy.  A little boy in the village was dying.  Elder Snow went up on the mountain to pray and to ask for permission to heal the boy.  He prayed all day.  Permission was granted.  He blessed the boy.  The boy was healed, and his healing had a profound effect upon Elder Snow's work in the village.

I prayed about Ellen every day.  I kept her name on the temple prayer roll for months.  I longed to be able to go up on the mountain to pray for permission to administer a blessing of healing to her, but the snow was deep all winter.  I couldn't get up there, and I hadn't been asked to administer a blessing.

I'm a stake patriarch.  I'm not to solicit opportunities to give blessings.  Bishops put names on my website of those to whom they've issued recommends to receive patriarchal blessings.  It saddens me when I see a name on my website and the person never calls for an appointment.  I can't call them, and after 90 days, their name disappears.

For my own part, I was once stricken with rheumatoid arthritis.  For six months I couldn't walk.  I was in the stake presidency.  The whole stake fasted for me.  I asked the stake patriarch to give me a blessing.  He broke down and cried.  “I've been wanting to give you a blessing,” he said, “and I prayed for the opportunity to do so.”

We were to install a new bishop in La Grande 4^th Ward.  I made the effort to be there for the sustaining.  I hobbled in the side door with my cane where I could go straight to the stand without walking through the congregation.  I sat down, and observed the soon-to-be-bishop's wife crying.  I thought to myself, “Poor woman.  Her life is about to change.”

It turned out that she was crying not because her husband was about to be sustained as bishop, but because President Kerns showed such faith by being present, and came despite his condition.  That touched me very deeply as I considered our brotherhood, our sisterhood, and our interdependence upon one another's faith.

My rheumatoid arthritis came on suddenly.  Rheumatoid arthritis is the disease that shrivels you up, destroys your joints, and makes you an invalid.  One day my ankle swelled up.  Then a knee.  Then the other knee.  I developed a high fever.  I was on my way to the hospital when the missionaries showed up.  Elder Redd gave me the blessing.  Elder Redd was a brand-new missionary.  He'd never before given a priesthood blessing.  It was beautiful.  It became my lifeline for the next six months.

The blessing said that I'd be healed, but that it would take some time.  The blessing said that I would later be able to see the purpose behind my affliction, and that this affliction would bless my family.  I hung onto those promises, and they all came to pass.

Since I couldn't walk, I had to sell my herd of cows.  I had the finest cattle herd in the valley.  That hurt.  I loved my cows.

My number two son was in high school, and had to take over running the farm.  He got more done than if I'd been up and around.  He learned about himself and his capabilities.  He went from shouting every morning that he hated school to going to eight years of college to become a veterinarian.  It was a miracle.

We used the money from the sale of the cattle to set our number one son up with a cabinet- and furniture-making business.  He taught me woodworking, and we became partners.  My rheumatoid arthritis completely disappeared.  It was a miracle.

Number one son was nearing 30, and hadn't found his wife, and was getting grouchier and more morose by the day.  There weren't any likely candidates for a wife around.  He knew it, and issued orders that we weren't to set him up with any dates.

I said to my wife that “the only way this kid is going to get married is if she walks into the shop and proposes to him.”

That almost literally happened.  Because of my arthritis I sold the cattle and bought the shop.  The shop provided a wife for my son.  It was a miracle.

One day the stake patriarch from Pendleton walked into our shop with his wife.  They'd just returned from their mission to Africa.  They had a cardboard box filled with pieces of exotic woods from Africa.  They asked if I could make a table, and inlay a design in the top using those pieces of wood.  I thought that I could.  I was stunned by what I created.  The fact that I could do it at all was a miracle.  It was all because of rheumatoid arthritis, and because my son taught me how to be a woodworker.

I delivered the table to the couple in Pendleton.  I asked them, “Do you know any girls that would make a good wife for my son?”

“No, we don't,” they said.  “Sorry.”

But the next week they were back in my shop.  “Remember the question you asked us?” they said.

“No, what question?”

“You asked if we knew any girls that would make a good wife for your son.  We do know a girl.  She's a perfect girl.  We don't know why we didn't think of her before.  She's the stake president's daughter.  She served a mission, and is almost 30 years old.”

The parents of the two young people exchanged pictures.  Two weeks later I was riding home from work with my son when I threw caution to the wind and said to him, “I think you ought to do something about that girl.”

His response knocked me over.  He said, “We have a date tonight.”  It was their third one.

She had called him.  Four months later they were married.  Theirs is the most perfect marital relationship ever.  They cherish one another.  Their daughter just returned from her mission, and a son leaves for his next month.  It's a miracle.

The couple for whom I made the table left instructions that when they died, the “engagement table” was to go to our son and his wife.  They have it now.

So returning to Ellen's story, I was finally asked to administer a priesthood blessing.  I went up on the mountain and prayed.  I prayed for a long time.  Nothing happened.  I sat and thought, and then I prayed again for permission to heal her.  Nothing came.  Finally I told my Father in heaven that I would give the blessing, and prayed that He would direct the words.

I started walking back home, contemplating on the situation.  Right in the center of the field that I was walking through a voice said, “I've already told you that I would honor any blessing you leave upon a person.”

There was my answer!

The next day my wife and I went to the temple as I prepared to give the blessing.  The family was fasting.  We did ordinance work for 24 of my deceased kindred.  I prayed that they would all unite their faith and prayers with ours so that Ellen could have a healing.  They were so grateful for what had been done for them that they eagerly joined us.

We administered the blessing.  Ellen was told that her headaches would gradually diminish, and that she would walk and run.

We had dinner, and ended our fasts.  Ellen's dad and I then went outside to look at his orchard.  We looked up, and around the house came Ellen walking as normal as could be.  She put away her wheelchair, walker, cane, and earmuffs; is singing again, walking, and plans to go out for soccer.

It's a miracle.

Lehi told his son, Jacob, “He will consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain.”  That's Second Nephi, chapter two, verse two—2, 2, 2.  I've added to that scripture.  I say, “He will consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain, if we resist the urge to complain.”

I believe that our afflictions have a purpose.  I believe that our greatest afflictions are intended to become our greatest blessings if we handle them right.

Ellen never complained about her afflictions.  She's healed, and she now knows more about patience, faith, gratitude, and compassion than any of us.