A few days ago, I was asked to share and bear my testimony with my brother and sister-in-law while teaching a lesson with the missionaries on the Restoration of the Gospel. While this is deeply personal, I want to share my most recent testimony of how our Heavenly Father truly works in mysterious ways.

I was in a decade-long relationship with someone I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. Whenever something went wrong, I prayed for the strength to forgive, hoping to keep our flame alive. But over time, my prayers began to change.

In the last two years before I stepped away, I started praying that the strength I was asking for would no longer be to fix us, but to fix me — and to open doors where I could grow, because I had been standing on the same plateau for so long.

On my 30th birthday, things began to unfold. I was experiencing contention with my partner, and I prayed that if things were meant to remain the same, please don’t let me keep forgiving just to survive — help me move forward instead. Just when I was starting to forgive again, another whirlwind came through and became the final straw that gently pushed my heart away. The love I thought I could renew vanished that day. I tried, but the resentment was too heavy to carry.

When I realized I was no longer a priority, I understood that I no longer had a purpose to serve in that relationship. So I slowly eased my way out. I prayed, knowing I would miss the memories, and I asked Heavenly Father to replace them with something new.

Unexpectedly, I was set up to meet someone I had seen a few times before, but never officially until that day. At first, I didn’t want to meet him because I was still sorting through my feelings, but I felt it wouldn’t hurt to simply be friends. After that, we didn’t talk much, and he rarely crossed my mind. I didn’t see him as a rebound — I kept everything loose, pure, and simple.

When I was slowly getting over my past relationship, I still wasn’t seeking anything new. But as if we needed a gentle push together, a friend reconnected with me and began planning small hangouts for us. We were supposed to have dinner, but time kept slipping away. Later, he approached me at a baptism and kindly said that if I didn’t feel comfortable with dinner, I could tell him and he would let my friend know. Of course, I wasn’t uncomfortable at all — our schedules just never aligned.

So I made the move to ask for his number and planned something myself. I wanted to be respectful of his time, knowing how hard he works.

I only get to see him on Sundays, and it didn’t dawn on me that he would become someone I came to cherish. We visited the Asia Mall, talked about his time in the National Guard, his love for Japan and anime, and then came a turning point — me giving him a tour of the Mall of America because he had never been there in the four years he had lived in the state.

We walked for hours, laughing, getting a little lost, and taking everything in like kids in a new place. When it was time to eat, I instinctively reached for my wallet, but he gently stopped me and insisted on paying for dinner. It wasn’t the money that stayed with me — it was the intention. The quiet way he cared without making a scene, simply wanting to take care of the moment. I felt my heart soften in ways I hadn’t expected.

He is sweet — a true gentleman, opening and closing my car door even when I tell him I don’t need him to. I have been independent for so long that it feels strange to experience kindness from a man, even when he is simply being polite.

It didn’t start there, though, where he began to quietly intrude into my thoughts. He donated generously to our youth fundraiser and was always sincere and genuine in the things he said and did. He truly began to catch my attention when I took him out to dinner for his birthday. We went for sushi — which surprised me, since I’m not even a fan — and for once he confidently chose a place instead of saying, “It doesn’t matter.” That night, I started paying attention: his body language, the little details, the things I might come to like about him.

Then came a quiet moment — a minute of eye contact that felt suspended in time. I tried to break the gaze, but I was speechless, and it seemed like he wanted to say something too. We just sat there, awkward and silent, and somehow that moment changed everything.

While we don’t talk every day, we share small conversations as we pass each other at events. He notices the little things — why I separate my food and dessert a certain way, why I like things arranged just so. We steal glances across the room. He gives a small salute every time he greets me. I came to find him adorable: how he questions ingredients when all I want to do is eat, how he talks about investments and being wise with finances, and even his nervous laugh that becomes contagious.

Before I knew it, he was quietly present in my thoughts throughout the day. And I had to remind myself to be careful — that maybe he was too good, and that I should leave space so neither of us would get hurt.

Coming to know him has brightened my days, even when the skies are gray. When I prayed for joy to overcome sorrow, he became part of that answer. I forgot how to cry, how to feel overwhelmed, even when life felt unsettled. He felt like a quiet companion the Spirit placed beside me — healing I didn’t know was waiting until I was ready to receive it.

All of this was what I had asked the Lord for when I finally chose to walk away without looking back, trusting that I would be blessed with greater things. And I have been. Still, I don’t know how long this season will last, so I keep my heart gentle and my distance kind. I enjoy his presence, but I also want to keep us safe.

There’s a saying that if you love a flower, you do not pick it — you let it continue to bloom in beauty so you may admire it from afar. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I did pick that flower. But for now, I am learning to watch, to trust, and to let Heavenly Father guide whatever is meant to grow.

With him, I am learning why the Bible says love is patient and love is kind. Our progression may seem slow to others, but it feels perfect for our timing. I allow him his space and he allows me mine. Though we have yet to have our next outing, I want him to know how much I’ve enjoyed getting to know him — so much that I want to reintroduce myself without fear or guarded walls.

I quietly count the days until he returns from his travels so that we may connect again. I miss his presence, especially since it’s only at the end of the week that I get to see him — so close, yet so far away.

I will be waiting for your return.

With much love,

Ang🌸