I'm God's Favorite

 A few days ago, I asked Father if He could help me feel His love for me.

Logically, I know it. I see countless ordinary miracles, and I know that almost every creator loves his creations, but I hadn't felt it for a while because I've been overwhelmed with family challenges, loneliness, and health trials.

The day after my prayer, everything was fine: I attended church, took notes, sang, and later painted some. I studied the scriptures and watched Bible story videos. But I felt nothing different; I didn't feel that love from God I hoped for, even though I knew the friends around me cared about me and my circumstances.

Monday came, and a friend sent me a fun picture through text message, but again, I went through the day without feeling anything. Now, don't misunderstand—how I currently feel does not affect my beliefs or blind my mind to see the good around me. However, as many probably hope, sometimes it would be nice to know that we are worth something in God's eyes.

Well, take that to this Tuesday morning. The same friend who sent me a message yesterday sent me another this morning, saying she was thinking about me, and I thought, Maybe this is it. Maybe this is God's way of saying he's mindful of me. Then later, I thought that perhaps I had been expecting it too much because she never followed up. And then, as I listened to the radio (KLove), I heard a message from a pastor who spoke about when Jesus's disciples were on the sea during the storm, and he was fast asleep in the boat. He said something to the effect of, "And they asked, Master, do you not care if we die? Don't we often wonder the same thing? Don't we wonder if, maybe, God loves us?" Upon hearing this, I thought, Yes! Here it is! This is what I've been waiting for.

But the universe must have laughed when I heard his next words, "And this is what Jesus said to them, 'Oh, ye, of little faith.'" Ouch! Excuse me, pastor, but that's harsh. What kind of hope-building, motivational speech is that? "Do you wonder if God loves you? You have little faith."

With my expectations falling, I kept driving to work.

Some time between five and ten minutes before nine, a song came on. The title and artist didn't appear on the screen, but I later looked it up because it opened my eyes to a new understanding of God's love. This is what stood out to me:

"Who says that I, even I

Have something still left to offer?
So who am I? Who am I

To question the pen in the hands of The Author?...

I live in a moment You already wrote
There's proof that I'm someone, yeah, someone You love...

I see trauma, I see worthless
You see something You can work with
I see weakness, I see failure
You see something good on paper
And I've seen ashes turn to beauty
I've felt heaven working through me
I've seen panic turn to power
Felt Your peace in my darkest hour..." (Brandon Lake and Nick Jonas)

Link to the music video: https://youtu.be/vKzPmy3VUzY?si=7TQk59ddEBzc97ek

Hebrews 12:2 refers to Christ as the author and finisher of our faith.

But what does his being the author have to do with God's love for me? Or his love for anyone, in fact?

This is what was impactful for me on my drive to work. He is the author of my story, which means—wait for it—I am the main character of my story! And I'm not just the main character, I am the hero.

As a writer, I know about characters well. Sometimes, they truly are heroes. Sometimes, they are just the average person on the street. And ninety-eight percent of the time, they don't know what the author is planning to throw into their path. But the stumbling blocks aren't in the story as punishment.

When I write my characters and their journeys, the ones that mean little to me are scooted into the background and float about as extras, while my favorite characters have to fight, suffer loss, deal with heartbreak, or even get shot a couple of times. It's because I know they can do it and get through it. It seems counterintuitive, but like us, Heavenly Father pushes those He loves best to be their best (yes, all of us), even if He has to step back and let them endure hardships. It doesn't sound pleasant, but it's necessary.

A ward member and friend, David, has said, "I'm God's favorite child." This morning, as I heard the song come on the radio reminding me that God is the author, I thought, "Hey, I'm God's favorite character." And in a story of perplexing choices, creations, and marvels, that means a lot to someone who just needed to be reminded that God loves her.

 

Life Lessons from a Dog 2026

 Lately, when I've gone on walks with our dog, it probably looks like he's the one taking me on a
walk! See, Buddy is blind, 90% deaf, and moves slowly. On top of that, he may have dementia.

The only way he knows I am there is if he can smell me or if I touch him. As a result, I walk directly in front of him and hold his leash so that he won't fall off the sidewalk and into the street. Sometimes, he wants to cross the street and tugs and pulls, trying to get his way, but sadly, every time he does this, he ends up falling off the sidewalk, running into someone's brick wall, or falling into the holes along neighbors’ yards. It saddens me (and I make a small fuss over him each time because the poor dog gets hurt) because I want to keep him safe and well, but I also know that if he doesn't follow right behind me, it will happen again. And I can't stop him from doing it because I refuse to force him to stay in a straight line. So I hold on to the leash and direct him as best I can, using it and myself to guide and protect him from falling.

The last time I took Buddy on a walk, I realized that Heavenly Father does the same thing for us. He doesn't want us to fall and gives us commandments to follow, which keep us tied to him. But sometimes, we don't want to follow Him and would rather go our own way. We see others having fun and roaming, or maybe there's a tasty treat on the other side of the spiritual street. And if we try to chase (or hobble) after them, we will fall because we, too, are blind and deaf. We, too, have forgotten important parts of our life, including our premortal life. We need a steady guide.

Fortunately, whenever we take the path that Buddy sometimes takes—when we trip and fall—our heavenly guide again helps us up and leads us. As long as we follow in His footsteps, we will return home safely, just as Buddy always returns home safely with me, no matter how long it takes.

Beloved

"For God so loved the world" 

I may have mentioned this before, but one of my favorite early church apostles is John the Beloved. Some of it has to do with how sincere his writings are (Matthew writes that one of the disciples cuts off the ear of the high priest's servant [Matthew 26:51], but John blatantly tells us that Simon Peter did it [John 18:10]). A portion of it has to do with how I relate to his title as a 'Son of Thunder' because I also have occasional bursts of frustration and speak with, as some in our Guatemala mission said, 'Chikote.' But I always found it humorous that he always referred to himself as 'the disciple whom Jesus loved.'

That was, until I understood it differently this morning. I can imagine John, alone on the island of Patmos, having received news of the martyrdoms of his brother and friends, after spending years being tossed into pits, prisons, pots of boiling oil, onto pyres, and enduring whatever other murderous attempts on his life. If I had been in his place, I know I would be feeling sorrowful and lonely—I have felt sorrowful and lonely. I have been rejected and persecuted, have had dreams and plans smashed time after time, and have dwelt on an island of sorts. So when I felt at a low this morning and prayed for anything to give me hope, was it any wonder my thoughts turned to John?

And what was it that I reflected on besides his loneliness on Patmos? His nickname: John the Beloved. Why? Because maybe, just maybe, he needed the reminder when he was alone and sorrowing that Jesus loved him. Maybe sometimes he didn't feel like he quite measured up or was important, and referring to himself as 'the disciple Jesus loved' helped him feel that he was enough and that Jesus accepted him despite his earlier zealousness.

I don't know why John referred to himself as 'the disciple Jesus loved,' but after pondering on these things today, I was reminded that I am also beloved. I am Destinee the Beloved because, regardless of what labels and price stickers the world wants to put on me, I am someone who Jesus loves.

At times in our lives, we will feel like we have no one to turn to—that no one wants us around or cares about our opinions. But when those times come, just remember that you are the one whom Jesus loved.

Remembering Unfortunate Events

 Numerous times throughout my life, I've been reminded to accentuate the positive, forget the bad, and hold onto hope for the future. They're all wonderful tenets of advice, but as I've recently read through historical records and journals and watched documentaries, I'm beginning to see that it's necessary not to forget all of the bad. Yes, we need to forgive those who have harmed us, but it doesn't mean we must push our experiences out of our minds. Yes, we should avoid repeating the past, but it doesn't mean we should pretend it never happened.

After all, what would life be like if we never experienced bad things? What would it be like if we forgot that one time we fell off our bicycle, or when that special someone rejected us?

There is a special part of our human minds that avoids pain. It's kind of like the knight in shining armor who would fight the dragons of old just to keep his princess safe. There is nothing wrong with it. However, as I've learned through the years, letting it have full control just turns us into robots. But what if we let it have less control, even a little bit more, not to the point of taking satisfaction in our own pain and suffering, but to allow ourselves to remember our disappointments?

When I first began transcribing my journals, I did not want to read through them. I read about a girl who was bullied, felt unwanted sometimes, and had some extraordinarily difficult days. And reading about those experiences makes me cry for her. Why did she have to walk in self-doubt and inadequacy? Why did she spend days shedding tears in secret? Why did she have to sit alone in sadness while I get to experience joy even in my trials?

It was so I can now experience joy, even in my trials. Her difficult days paved the way for me to now see the good and to see God more.

Why did my ancestors have to cross the plains with early pioneers, fight in wars, or move to Rhode Island to avoid Puritan persecution? It was to grant me a place where I could learn more about Jesus Christ freely (even though some of them did not know their impact at the time). And that's why the sufferings and sorrows of the past are necessary—why we should not forget them. Because without them, we are just mute creatures without a destination and without an origin.

I know that young Destinee would not have chosen those trials for herself, but thank goodness she was willing to endure so that I could be where I am today.

Remembering Through Music

 My thoughts have been jumbled recently as I've mourned the suffering of my brothers and sisters around the world, especially those who have been scorned and rejected by those—even many "Christians"—who claim to have more rights than other people just because they have a paper to declare it so. Any who claim to be Christians should remember that Christ welcomed all, including Matthew the Publican, hated by most Jews for working for their enemies, the Romans; he healed the woman with an issue of blood, who had been rejected and called "unclean," and the lepers whom everyone else feared and would not touch. He opened his arms to the Gentiles, those not of Jewish ancestry, and the Samaritans. So, for any suffering alone or on behalf of another you love, many of our hearts go out to you. Lo sentimos.

As the contentions, wickedness, natural disasters, and heartaches increase, I have sought comfort in both the scriptures and in uplifting music. It is therefore fitting that our Sunday School lesson focused on how music directs our thoughts to Jesus Christ. We were given a challenge to study the hymns we love and learn about them. The first hymn I selected to research is "This is the Christ," written by James E. Faust and Jan Underwood Pinborough and composed by Michael Finlinson Moody.

What I knew about this hymn was that it was about Christ's resurrection, but what I did not realize was that it was Elder Faust's testimony of the Savior's coming to the Americas. How does this give me comfort? I served in Guatemala City, Guatemala, where I received a firm witness that Jesus Christ came to the Americas after His resurrection. I had a powerful, but quiet, personal experience, which I wrote in my mission journal and had pushed into the back of my memory until a couple of weeks ago. That memory emerged at the right time to remind me of what I believe and know, and to testify to me that Jesus is the Christ and is aware of all of us.

"They saw Him come, a man in white, the Savior, who had suffered for their sake. They felt the wounds in hands and side, and each could testify: This is the Christ...

"I read His words, the words He prayed while bearing sorrow in Gethsemane. I feel His love, the price He paid. How many drops of blood were spilled for me? With Saints of old in joyful cry I too can testify: This is the Christ."

He is the Christ, the deliverer and redeemer. Many of us—groups and individuals—will experience some sort of persecution or bondage. But even if the deliverance does not happen now, He will deliver all who put their trust in Him. 

On Track to the Temple

 

The Lindon, Utah Temple is built along the Murdock Canal Trail. Until recently, I only watched the construction's progress whenever I drove past it. And then, I noticed the trail marker.

There's nothing remarkable about the number on the trail marker, but the fact that the trail marker exists beside the temple is a great reminder of everyone's spiritual journey. Not everyone is at the same point on the trail. Some may be at the temple's doors every week. Some are at the three-and-a-quarter-mile marker, in sight of the temple but not quite there. Others are back at the trail's beginnings... which might be at Utah Lake somewhere (For those unfamiliar with the area, that's a long walk).

What matters is that we're on the trail and headed in the right direction. A sincere commitment to covenants takes time. God wants us to make covenants with him, but an accidental mishap in breaking a covenant is a bit more excusable than a heartfelt rebellion. What's even better is to fully prepare ourselves to make those covenants with God in His holy temples and then steadfastly keep to them.

Get on the trail, stick to it, and move forward until you reach the temple.

Insights on Pilate

 It is 33 AD in the Common Era, and the Romans have control over Israel and various other countries. Many of the citizens under their rule are little better than slaves and deserve the cruelest treatment then known to man. The Jews are barely unworthy of consideration by Caesar, and he carelessly murders them without end. God's people are underneath a yoke of hardship above any their people had experienced before, including the many chastisements placed upon the people of Israel during past captivity.

And then, here comes a man claiming to be the Christ—the Deliverer, Savior, Redeemer—the man who would free them. But He didn't free them from the Romans. Instead, He, who proclaimed to be their Messiah, let Himself be led like a lamb to slaughter. He, who was supposed to lead them out of captivity, stood meekly beside the Roman prefect, Pontius Pilate, without raising a fist. He, who was to free them from the whip allowed Himself to be beaten by a nine-tail whip.

It's because He who was the ultimate Messiah needed to deliver Himself into the hands of His enemies (the hypocritical Sanhedrin) and the Jews' enemies (the Romans) to rescue all—not from physical captivity at this time but from spiritual captivity and physical death.

What's interesting is that these cruel Romans, who had no problem sending a Jew to the cross to suffer the ultimate torture, experiencing agonizing pain in their hands and feet while suffocating slowly as everyone below mocked them, were hesitant to send Jesus the Christ to die. Pilate found no fault in the one who claimed to be the Son of God and did not mock His response. And had not the unrighteous leaders below—people of the living God—ordered His crucifixion, Pilate would have let the son of Joseph go.

Why? 

"Wherefore, as I said unto you, it must needs be expedient that Christ—for in the last night the angel spake unto me that this should be his name—should come among the Jews, among those who are the more wicked part of the world; and they shall crucify him—for thus it behooveth our God, and there is none other nation on earth that would crucify their God.

For should the mighty miracles be wrought among other nations they would repent, and know that he be their God" (Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 10:3-4).

Although the Romans exercised barbaric practices, as a Pagan society, their beliefs extended past more than one god. To hear a man say he was the Son of God would have been no different than if a man had come to them proclaiming to be a demi-god like Heracles. They would have seen his miracles and have believed. Listening to such a man would not have been against their beliefs. But it was to the Jews that Jesus needed to go.

And so, unable to be anything more than a puppet of the people, despite believing in Jesus Christ's declaration that He was the Son of God, Pilate had to listen to the people crying out "Crucify Him, Crucify Him" and then washed his hands of it.

The Presence of God

 I'm sure someone in the blogging universe has heard of this television show and remembers it, but when I was much younger, there was a show called Joan of Arcadia with a theme song by Joan Osborne called "One of Us." Both the song and show addressed the concept of God walking among us. In the show, God always talked to Joan, but it's interesting to imagine Him as someone we might pass on the streets each day, the lonely person sitting on the bus, or the server at our favorite restaurant. What if God was "one of us?"

I find it strange whenever people say they haven't seen a miracle. It's more strange when others can't see God around them, although maybe it's hard for some to see His hand in their lives. As a student (or an enthusiast) of the sciences, I find it difficult NOT to see evidence of God in nearly everything good or the lack of Him in all that isn't good. The complexity of life teems with the need for a maker's hand. But even if it's hard to see Him in things, He's visible in the kindness of others or where true love lies. How can someone so good or omnipotent not be present in creation?

C.S. Lewis wrote, "We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade, the presence of God. The world is crowded with Him. He walks everywhere incognito. And the incognito is not always hard to penetrate. The real labour is to remember, to attend. In fact, to come awake. Still more, to remain awake (Letters to Malcom: Chiefly on Prayer)."

If we're willing to look for Him—and miracles—we'll see Him.

The Lord Loves Effort

 On Sunday I had reached a point of exhaustion—not the simple tired exhaustion but the "I wish I didn't have to keep going" exhaustion. Luckily, I'm stubborn, so although I would have stayed in bed with a blanket over my head, I convinced myself to go to church (and it helps when someone depends on you for a ride). And I was exceedingly blessed—blessed by some miracle to be there for my friends' talks and a musical number; blessed to hear the precise messages I needed to listen to that day, and blessed to hear at the end in the final talk that "the Lord loves effort." Because I know it's true and has been cemented by another layer from Sunday's messages, I want to share those edifying messages.

Each of us has thought or will ask, "What's the use?" What's the use of enduring? Why try? The first special message was "God didn't bring you this far just to bring you this far." If we've made it this far in life (and we have, regardless of our pain, struggles, tears, and exhaustion), we can make it further. It's not the end until it's the end.

Many of us will also wonder if we've been doomed to stay put and stuck in the life we have. We may wonder if we'll ever be noticed or make a difference. I prefer serving others in a quiet, unseen manner, but honestly, it would be nice if someone noticed me occasionally when I walked through the middle of the room to find a seat on the other side (I guess I have a talent for ninja skills). Message two is that the Lord doesn't measure our efforts by how much or what the giver gives but by what effect the giving has on the giver's heart. This is good news for those of us who feel like our efforts might be wasted. As long as we are changing or experiencing those "feel-goods" we're making a difference. And even when you're invisible to almost everyone as you walk through the middle of the room, at least God notices you.

Third, our Heavenly Father knows you can't do everything and doesn't expect you to do everything. Dieter F. Uchtdorf shared, "God is fully aware that you and I are not perfect. Let me add: God is also fully aware that the people you think are perfect are not." Thank goodness we live in a society of perfectly imperfect people so we don't have to be overwhelmed by our imperfections. A rule of thumb is to do one more good thing—not everything and not a long list of things but just one thing.

The final main message weaved all the other messages into one great symphony of hope for me and hopefully for others: How do we balance everything we have to do? How do we take care of the details in our daily lives, date, raise a family, study, work, build our talents, etc?

The answer is simple. We can't. Life isn't a balancing act. Unfortunately, it's a juggling act and when one thing seems like it will fall, we have to spend a little extra time on that aspect. But when the juggling act weighs on you because there are too many balls to hold onto, then this promise comes: Everything that's meant to fall into our lives will fall into place, while what doesn't matter will fall out of our lives completely.

And that's why when we feel exhausted or want to give up, all it takes is doing one thing even if it's making the effort to open your eyes or say a little prayer because in the end, the Lord loves effort.

God knew José

Yesterday, a high councilman shared a story with us: a group of about 30 people from Utah went down to Mexico last December for humanitarian work. Their first stop was to help a woman build a house because she worked every day for twelve hours picking berries while raising two children, and yet they had nothing except for a shack in the middle of a field. The group arrived on Saturday, and there was supposed to be a storm the next week, so early Sunday morning, the men had to get up at seven and work on building the house, while their wives and children attended church. The missionaries for the ward had asked one of these men to pick up an investigator named José and his family, so the man's wife said she would do it. 

This woman was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed soccer mom from Utah who didn't speak Spanish, but the missionaries shared a map location, and she followed it. But when she reached the place, there was no José. She prayed and asked for help finding this man and his family, drove around, and saw a family in the distance coming from the fields. Just like the missionaries had described, there was a man, a woman, and three children, so she drove up beside them, stopped, rolled down the van window, and asked, “José?”

The man responded, “Sí.”

She replied, “Iglesia.”

The man appeared confused, so she tried again with the same result. She called the missionaries, and they spoke to the man, but the family still wouldn’t budge. Finally, this sister told the missionaries she would deal with it, got out of her van, opened the back door, and said, “José, iglesia. Andale.” The family (and a dog) got into the van, and she drove them to the church. They entered, and she led the family to where the missionaries were sitting. 

“Elders, José,” she introduced. The missionaries looked at José and told her, “That’s not José.”

She told them that they better get to work, then. That José was not the man she was sent to find, but it was the José the Lord wanted to be found.

The cool part of the story is that this José she found had moved with his family to the fields not long before. He was raised Catholic, and when they arrived, they didn’t know anyone, so he prayed, “Lord, help me find your church so I can worship.”

And guess what? That’s what the Lord did. He knew this man’s name. He knew where he wanted him to be. And He provided the way for him to get there.

And if the Lord knew José in the middle of an aldea of Mexico, He knows us.