The Saturday Afternoon Session of the 196th Semiannual General Conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints – October 3, 2026

In the late 1980s, Mr. Martin developed severe heart failure.

Despite the most advanced medications available, his heart couldn't adequately support his circulation.

He would die without a heart transplant.

He became my team's patient, and the wait for a donor heart began.

His condition worsened, and mechanical pumps were implanted to sustain his life.

A few days later, Mr. Martin's liver, kidneys, and lungs began to fail.

If a donor heart didn't become available soon, he would surely die.

One became available, and Mr. Martin received a transplant.

Surprisingly, this new heart didn't work well, and his condition was now even worse.

After a couple of days, the situation seemed hopeless, and we were preparing to withdraw life support.

While discussing the limited options with Mrs. Martin, I was notified that another donor heart was available.

This donor heart was considered marginal and wouldn't be used for any other recipient in the country.

With Mrs. Martin's consent, we decided to use this marginal heart for a second transplant.

Fortunately, this marginal heart functioned beautifully.

Within hours, Mr. Martin's liver, kidneys, and lungs began to recover, and the mechanical pumps were removed.

Ten days later, I walked into Mr. Martin's hospital room knowing that he'd be discharged from the hospital the next day.

He was sitting on his bed, gripping his breakfast tray, and was clearly irritated.

I asked what was wrong.

Through clenched teeth, Mr. Martin replied, The oatmeal isn't hot, and the milk isn't cold.

For the past three weeks, Mr. Martin had hovered near death, yet was now complaining about the hospital food.

I think when you go through something like Mr. Martin did, you use up all your coping coupons, and I don't think anybody should be tortured with oatmeal, regardless of temperature.

But at that moment, Mr. Martin focused on the cold oatmeal in front of him and seemingly dismissed the miracle he'd experienced.

He lost sight of the bigger picture, both where he had been and the promise the future now held.

We, too, can easily fall into the same trap that Mr. Martin did that morning in the hospital, especially when our day-to-day challenges loom.

We focus on the here and now, the cold oatmeal, and lose sight of the bigger picture, both where we've been and God's promises to us.