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.

Miracles in a Coin Purse

 There are people who doubt or question God's existence because they have not seen grand miracles in their lives, but it is most often in the everyday miracles that God works.

Twelve to thirteen years ago, when I was serving a mission in Guatemala City, on a bright, sunny, and hot day on the coast, my companion and I had a meeting in a different area. While there, we stopped at the ATM to withdraw money because buses and taxi-like services were common. Before climbing onto the bus, I felt like I needed to put only the amount of the fare in the coin purse I carried, while the rest of the money went into the bottom of the backpack. I did not know why, but I did not question the feeling because I was accustomed to being cautious.

On the bus ride back, two men climbed onto the bus, threatened the driver, and stood at the front of the bus where they demanded money from everyone and walked past every seat. The first woman hardly had anything, and one of the men waved a gun at her, asking, "Is that all? Do you swear you don't have anything more?" I should have been terrified but was not. I simply pulled out the coin purse and held it up as they passed. The man took it, and then he did something that could have made my heart stop—he rubbed it between his fingers. There was nothing in there but two small coins. He should have threatened me the same way he did to the woman at the front. But he didn't. He walked past and continued to collect money until they jumped off the bus. I don't know if he felt money inside that did not exist or if he thought it wasn't worth his while to threaten a foreign girl, but what I do know is that it's evidence that God does watch after us.

God does not prevent bad things from happening all the time because he won't interfere with anyone's agency, and sometimes, he will allow them to happen because we need to learn something, but if a miracle like I experienced isn't evidence enough that he cares about us, I don't know what is. He is real. He loves us. He has not forsaken us.

Like A River

 

Several places in the scriptures talk about having "peace... as a river." 1 Nephi 20 states, "O that thou hadst hearkened to my commandments—then had thy peace been as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea." Isaiah 48 says the same thing.

I have been around rivers all my life, and I have never seen a completely peaceful river (although St. John's Bayou and the Mississippi are fairly calm on good days), so the more I read these verses—all of the ones addressing having peace like a river—I can't help but wonder what could this possibly mean? Will my peace be rambunctious and unpredictable, or my life be tossed about like the waves of the sea? Could it mean that I will have ever-flowing peace, perhaps? The latter supposition sounds more reasonable, but maybe, just maybe, the former does apply.

A river can be dangerous when the levels are high or when the wind blows. Some rivers have hidden dangers, such as large river monsters, snakes, or piranhas. However, if you stand and watch a steadily flowing river like I have, you realize it holds many beautiful lessons. First, a flowing river is more pure than a stagnant one. Although most water sources, even rivers, have impurities or bacteria that humans should avoid drinking, a flowing source is better to drink from than from a pool. Peace like a river must then be clearer or easier to understand. When we feel that calm, warm feeling, we'll know that we are feeling true peace.

Second, a river constantly moves items along. I once wanted to see how fast the river was flowing, so I threw a stick into the river to calculate its travel over a certain distance. The stick never sank and never stopped. It kept moving along with the river until it left my sight. I'm confident that the peace we can receive from Jesus Christ will buoy us up and help us keep going even in the crazy journey of life, aiding us to avoid getting stuck along the way just as the river moved that stick onward.

There is something else that a river moves but is underneath its surface: rocks. As the river tumbles the rocks, the rocks become smoother. I don't know if having our peace like a river means that things will necessarily smooth out, but the promise I hold onto from the scriptures is that the peace we'll have will be greater than we now have, and that sounds like a good promise to me.

Unfortunately, our lives are ofttimes unclear. The answers we want don't always come or they come and then turn into something else we weren't expecting. We might feel prompted to step back after we've done all we thought we could do and have seen some good results, only to see that our stepping back didn't yield the final results we hoped for. But we have been promised peace, and even if that peace is sometimes bumpy or unpredictable, at least it's flowing.

The Sermon of Faith

 "Consider the lilies of the field." A set of scriptures from the Sermon on the Mount, starting with these words, came into my mind earlier. They're a good reminder to stop worrying or, at least, to live life more fully. Starting with these powerful words and having all of those scriptures emphasized during the final talk of our sacrament meeting today, I put the lessons into a poem. It's strange that the messages during the meeting went from the priesthood to Star Wars lessons to the Sermon on the Mount, but all of it has a basis in exercising faith. The priesthood power is activated by faith. Luke Skywalker could not blow the reactor on the Death Star until he closed his eyes and trusted in the force. And how can we have peace if we are unwilling to leave everything in God's hands and trust Him to take care of us and our circumstances?

Tomorrow often sounds dismal and dark,

And fear and control never take a rest.

Worry holds us back from moving onward.

Maybe, just maybe, closing your eyes is best.

Leaping by faith into dark paths is chancy,

But, surely, not all that is dim leads to death.

The flowers and birds are fed aplenty,

They expect nothing and are, yet, given breath.

Why fear humankind, whose lives are short?

Why not move forward from failure and scorn?

Taking a step forth is all that's required–

The words will be given, and our burdens borne.

We are in the details of a larger work,

And some days it seems we are put to the test,

If the next step looks like the deep abyss,

Maybe, just maybe, closing your eyes is best.

Rejoice with Me

Lost By the Bay

 "And he spake this parable unto them, saying,

What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine... and go after that which is lost, until he find it?

And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing.

Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it? And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbors together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost" (Luke 15:3-5, 8-9).

It is easy to fall into the habit of thinking no one notices us or cares about us. It is more logical to consider the billions of people on Earth and say to ourselves, "Who am I? What good can I do? What purpose could I possibly serve among so many."

Oh, my friends, if we could only comprehend more fully how necessary we are—how marvelous, loved, and wanted we are. And I think I'm only beginning to grasp the concept.

Have you lost something important before? Something that you could probably live without, but it meant something to you? I have. In fact, I recently lost something I needed for work, and as much as I searched for it—I recleaned my bedroom, checked the bathroom just in case, looked in the dryer, checked outside, searched my car—I could not find it. And I prayed. And I prayed again. And God didn't tell me exactly where to find it right away.

It was important to me, so why didn't He just tell me? He knew where it was, didn't He?

Instead, He told me to clean my backpack and to change my bedding, and did I find it? No. But finally, when I was at breaking point and knew I had searched everywhere and had done all I could, He opened my eyes, and I found what I was looking for in the thinnest, darkest area next to a stack of towels. How did it get next to the towels?!

But it was there. And I was overcome by joy and gratitude.

And I'm pretty sure that's how Heavenly Father sees us. When we've done something wrong or feel like we aren't needed, or we wander away because people have hurt us, or maybe we feel uncomfortable around religious people because sometimes they can be too judgy, so we avoid everything relating to God, He hasn't given up on us. He could easily kick our stubborn mortal butts and tell us to get back in line, but He doesn't. He looks for us, watches for us, and then welcomes us with open arms so He can give us a big hug when we are found.

And when we return to Him, I'm sure He's saying to all of the angels, "Rejoice with me, for I have found the [one] which I had lost." 

Don't Forget the Darkness is Followed by the Dawn

One day as I was driving to work, I contemplated some of the difficult things I was dealing with—exhaustion, work, trying to fit in, my own struggle with my self-esteem, and health. The list might have continued, but as I looked at the sun coming over the mountain, it symbolized my journey. Each of us has to climb some pretty big metaphorical mountains in our lives. Sometimes, those mountains are piles of dirt and rocks, sometimes of big boulders and stones, and other times of silt and sand (those ones sound the most tiring). Do you know what’s good about mountains, though (Other than they keep tornadoes out)? Either there’s a tunnel that goes through the mountain to help you get to the other side or once you reach the top, you can look down and see the valley.

There are rough days or weeks or years, and would we like to skip out on those experiences? Of course, we would, but every day or week or year that seems to push us down in the muck isn’t the end because the end will be beautiful. And if it’s not wonderful and beautiful, it must not be the end of our journey yet. How I wish I could reverse time to ten years ago and hug Corey or Sam or Evan and tell them to hang on because the uphill hike would have something beautiful to look back on! When it gets tough, keep hanging on because whatever darkness we’re going through—whatever darkness you’re going through right now at this moment—will be followed by the dawn. The sun will come. It will come.

Some days the journey is all uphill. Often the clouds block our view.
But every tunnel in a mountain is a way to get through.
The way may seem steep, and the storm may be strong,
And maybe at times, the journey feels too long,
Every life has darkness when the sun won’t shine,
But life’s about the journey and the climb.

When you want to give up; when you’re tired and worn,
Remember how the fragrant rose wears a dozen thorns.
When you face the mountain, keep on hanging on—
Don’t forget the darkness is followed by the dawn.

It would be more peaceful to sail on calmer seas,
To drift through life in comfort while moving forth with ease.
Fewer tears, if any, would stream from heavy eyes,
And hearts would never break from an unwanted surprise.
At times, the road brings pain and our desires fade,
But after the fiery flames, comes the soothing glade.

When you want to give up; when you’re tired and worn,
Remember how the fragrant rose wears a dozen thorns.
When you face the mountain, keep on hanging on—
Don’t forget the darkness is followed by the dawn.

Never forget the darkness is followed by the dawn.

Everyday Miracles

 "There are no accidents." - Master Oogway, Kung Fu Panda

A discussion about miracles broke out at the studio where I work one day. During it, one of the guys said he hasn't seen any miracles, and surprised, I responded that I see them almost every day. He asked what they were, and I told him- the miracles I notice are the everyday sort of miracles. It's when the traffic lights turn green when I drive the speed limit, snow stops so it'll be safer to drive to church, or when the sun shines through at the right moment. It's when I'm trying to avoid someone who makes me feel uncomfortable, and other people sit beside me before that someone can. It's when I make plans to take a vacation somewhere on my bucket list, and everyone else ditches, but then, a friend says they'll go. It's when I'm feeling down, and a friend sends me a random message or a neighbor brings something over.

These are the sort of things my coworker said he thought were coincidences in his own life. However, growing up, I've heard from many sources, from psychology to the words of prophets and apostles (and even in science not focused on the big bang randomization theory) that there are no coincidences. And I believe that point of view. Maybe there are some small coincidences now and then like our favorite color is blue-green or maybe you like grilled cheese sandwiches as much as I do, but when the happy accidents in our lives happen, I don't believe those are accidents.

And if there are coincidences like my friend thinks, couldn't coincidences be miracles too?

A Gift for All

 Christmas is coming up, and the holiday season often feels chaotic with everything going on. One of the major parts for most of us, I think, is the giving and receiving of gifts.

This past week, I had the opportunity to watch the opening two episodes of The Chosen. I've mentioned the show in a past blog post, and if anyone is unfamiliar with it, I recommend watching it. It's about Christ's ministry and the first twelve apostles. The episodes pick up with Christ's sermon on the mount, the infamous beatitude chapters. There were two parts that stuck out to me clearly, which I've pondered on for many days. The first is about how the Sermon on the Mount was a message for all. There is something in there for everyone. I always tried gleaming as much as possible from it and tried to follow all of the messages at once, whether I needed it at that time or not, but after this past week, I realized that every message, every verse, everything truly good that I read or listen to has a message for me. He said as He has said many times throughout the scriptures, to not be anxious or worried, and that's definitely a message I need.

I've heard that when one writes or gives a speech, to write it or direct it toward one or two individuals. I wonder if Jesus did this when preparing the sermon. Did He think about His disciples? Was there a specific person He considered at the time? Or did he think about all of us- past and future- and say it all at once?

The second thing that stuck out to me was when He sent the twelve out as his apostles. He told them to take nothing with them, and when they questioned Him, He said that He wanted them to rely more on Heavenly Father. How often have I tried to do everything on my own? Honestly, it has been more than I should have. "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin" (Matthew 6:28). If our Heavenly Father has taken care of all that's on the earth, why wouldn't He watch over and help us?

I think that what He's telling us is to slow down, learn from Him, and focus. He has a gift to give us, and He wants us to hold on long enough to receive that gift- to slow down, stop worrying, and trust in Him. Our Heavenly Father will watch over us, and there's a message and a gift for each of us.

Our Own Gifts

 A movie came out not long ago that many have already heard about. It's called Encanto and is a Disney movie. It isn't my favorite movie and might not even make the top ten, but besides the music, there is one thing I love about it. Every person in la Familia Madrigal has a unique gift, meant to bless others. It's a part of what makes each member unique, even the main character, Mirabel, who thinks she is "giftless." Sure, some gifts are more prevalent than others. There's a flower-producing character, a super-strong sister, a cousin that can change into other people, the main character's mother who can heal people with food, and an aunt that affects the weather. 

But it's not those gifts that I noticed. Mirabel's parents stand up for her when Abuela thinks she's in the way. Cousin Camillo looks out for Mirabel. Tio Bruno gives up using his gift of foresight to protect Mirabel from becoming ostracized. Cousin Antonio has a great love for her, looking up to Mirabel as an older sister. And Mirabel, though she doesn't realize it, has a bit of foresight like Bruno, interacts with animals like Antonio, and has the ability to bring her family together, not to mention the courage she shows. Some gifts were more visible than others, but everyone had a gift or talent to share.

Earlier, I was reading about Christ's visit to his disciples after his resurrection. A handful of them went fishing without luck, and Christ called to them from the shore, telling them to throw their nets on the other side of the boat. When they realized it was the Lord on the beach, they hurried to him and shared a meal. At the end of the chapter, after Jesus asks Peter three times "Do you love me?" and Peter answers him, Jesus foretells Peter's ministry and death. And then Peter asks the Lord about John. I can imagine him saying,

"Lord, it's good that I get to be a teacher and serve the people here. I'm sorry I came back to fish, but I will do better. I will do what you ask of me from now on. By the way, what will John be doing? Will he be doing the same thing, too?"

And Jesus answers, "Does it matter? He has his own responsibility. I was talking to you not him."

Often, I'm caught up in the idea that I need to be doing what others are doing. Many people my age already have careers. Some of them have families. Some are married, living in houses, and seem to have life figured out already. But I think of those words, "He [she] has his [her] own responsibility. I was talking to you," and I think about how each of the Familia Madrigal had gifts and talents that were unique. What others are doing or how they're doing it should not affect how I live or what I do. Each of us is on our own path, and the Lord has different assignments for each of us. Our unique talents and responsibilities make us special, and those gifts don't have to be magical. It's okay if they're simple talents or gifts. Because every gift is necessary.

The Hidden Heroes

 Do you know that story of Ammon and the king's flocks? That one where Ammon joins the Lamanite king's servants to take the animals to the watering hole, and some mean Lamanite guys scare the animals because they wanted to see the king's servants get into trouble? 

There's something I missed before, all of the many times I've read this account in the scriptures. Following the scattering of the flocks, the servants weep because the king will kill them like their brethren before. Ammon comforts them and instructs them to gather the flocks while he contends with the troublemakers. His life is preserved, and he defeats a bunch of vicious guys on his own (Book of Mormon, Alma 17-18).

I have read that the king had killed his servants before, but when the king wonders if Ammon is God, it came to me: Why was Ammon sent at this time to the Lamanites instead of at an earlier time? If he had left his land earlier, he could have saved many more servants from the wrath of the king, right?

Maybe there are two reasons for this: first, maybe those servants with Ammon needed to fear for their lives and be at the depths of humility before they could trust Ammon and the gospel message he wished to share with them, and second, righteous fathers were needed to raise those stripling warriors that came later in the war chapters. Unlike their brethren before, the servants with Ammon were saved just as much as Ammon was, and they became converted to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 

Some of those servants probably are the fathers mentioned that sent provisions to their sons on the battlefield, not mentioned as often as the mothers of the stripling warriors (Alma 53-58), but they are there.

Just maybe we are saved for greater purposes than we see now. I'm sure the servants of the king were ecstatic to be alive, but they did not know that one day they, too, would be instruments in the hands of the Lord to bring good to pass. Maybe, just maybe, we are like those servants, hidden in the pages of an account and overlooked later on, but even the hidden heroes are still heroes. 

And if that's so, I'm okay to be a hidden hero.

Wrong Roads

 

Whenever I drive past the Provo, Utah temple for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I see an old, orange truck that reminds me of a message Jeffrey R. Holland shared once. Here's the link for the video of it if you're interested: https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/media/video/2013-09-0016-wrong-roads?lang=eng.

I've always liked the story and could somewhat relate to it, of course, but recently, it became more relevant.

Holland told of a time when he took his son to visit some spots in Southern Utah, but as they planned to return home before dark, they came upon a fork in the road. Choosing the wrong road meant that they might end up in a destination far from where they had planned (home), so not knowing which road was the road home, they prayed together and consulted. Both Jeffrey R. Holland and his son felt that they should take a certain road, so they drove down it for a couple of miles and came to a dead end. Knowing that it was not the correct road after all, they turned around and went down the other road. 

His son asked why they had felt prompted to go down the dead-end road if it wasn't the right one, to which Jeffrey R. Holland suggested that perhaps, it was so that they might know with assurance which path was correct. 

A little over a year ago, I began using a bullet journal to plan every week. I got into the habit, and I've accomplished more with it than I ever have by not planning. Sometimes, I even have backup and backup-backup plans because if we don't plan, we lose sight of our dreams. 

And then, something happened that made me feel like I had reached a deadend. Actually, I had reached several dead ends. I was in a rat maze where every path I tried going down was a deadend, but my newest stumbling block was something that I was confident I could get over easily. 

That's not what happened. I made four or five different plans, knowing that I could make it down one of those roads, and then, every single plan failed until I was left hopeless and wondering why I had been allowed to go down each of these paths in the first place.

Wednesday last week, I saw that little orange truck again, and as I thought about it, I realized that maybe, I had not been allowed to act on those plans so that I would fail but that I could succeed with confidence when I came to the correct road.

God expects us to "be believing and not give up, and not panic and not retreat and not jump ship when something doesn't seem to be going just right. We stay in. We keep working" (Jeffrey R. Holland).

And if we do stay in and keep working, everything will work out just fine in the end.

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/media/video/2013-09-0016-wrong-roads?lang=eng.