Aug 9, 2019

As I read through my old journal from 2019, I’m flooded with emotion. I was lost back then—holding onto church while also carrying a heavy weight of depression. My relationship with my husband was struggling, and my children didn’t fully understand what I was going through. I wrote a lot about religion, trying to make sense of everything and to feel some kind of peace. Keep that in mind as you read these personal thoughts.

Here we go.

**August 9, 2019**

“As we seek to minister just as He did, we will be provided opportunities to forget ourselves and lift others. These opportunities may often be inconvenient and test our desire to become more like the Master, whose greatest service of all was the infinite Atonement.”

Reading this, I felt the Spirit—hope, love, and peace all at once. A reminder that it’s never too late. The Lord loves us. Jesus sacrificed so we could return home to Him.

I worry about a few of my own kids. Their hearts have hardened toward the church, and that scares me sometimes. But then I remember—I was the same way at their age. I didn’t like being told what to do. I resisted being taught when my heart wasn’t in it. Still, deep down, I always knew Jesus Christ was real. I just didn’t prioritize that relationship.

Even now, I fall short. I want to feel the Spirit more. I want to have that Christlike love—the kind that truly serves others. And now, more than ever, I *desire* it.

My mom keeps coming to mind. But it’s still too raw. I can’t go back there yet. I’ve made peace with waiting until the next life to fully work things out with her. I’ve forgiven her—for the selfishness, for the addiction—but I can’t let myself be affected by her choices anymore. I have my own healing to focus on.

So for now, I’m choosing to be better. To love my family more deeply, to show kindness to my neighbors, and to be present for my friends.

I love the gospel of Jesus Christ.