Tag Archives: Growth

Becoming, Faith

Becoming Together

This month marks one year since I was called to serve as Second Counselor in our Young Women presidency, and I cannot fully express how much this calling has meant to me.

One of its greatest blessings has been watching my Primary girls grow into remarkable young women. Seeing them gain confidence, discover their gifts, and strengthen their testimonies has been a privilege I don’t take lightly. I pray they will continue choosing Christ wherever life leads them.

When I was first called, many of the girls were quiet and reserved. Then we spent a week together at youth camp, and something changed. It wasn’t only my relationship with them that grew—it was the way they began connecting with one another. The walls between “church friends” slowly disappeared as they laughed together, supported one another, and chose to spend time together outside of Sunday meetings.

That has always been one of my hopes for our youth. I want church to be more than a place they attend. I hope it becomes a place where they feel known, accepted, and free to be themselves.

Some of my favorite memories have happened outside the walls of the church.

Whenever we’d spend time together, I’d joke, “Today, I’m just another older sister. No leader hats today.”

Of course, my responsibility to keep everyone safe never changed, but I never wanted my calling to become a barrier between us. Some of the best conversations happened over food, during car rides, or while simply sitting together after an activity. I’ve learned that some of the most meaningful ministry happens in ordinary moments.

When I accepted this calling, I assumed my responsibility was to teach the youth. I didn’t expect them to change the way I see people.

In his General Conference message As a Little Child, President Jeffrey R. Holland reminds us that Christ placed a little child before His disciples because children possess qualities He hopes we never lose—humility, trust, sincerity, and love.

Serving these youth has reminded me that those qualities don’t disappear as we grow older. They simply become hidden beneath responsibilities, disappointments, and the expectations we place on ourselves.

Because of them, I find myself looking at adults differently. Instead of seeing people who should have everything figured out, I see individuals who are still becoming. We’re all trying to make good decisions with the understanding we have. We’re all carrying burdens others can’t see. We’re all hoping to become a little better than we were yesterday.

One unexpected blessing has been getting to know the young men alongside the young women.

The young women have shown me the beauty of openness. They laugh easily, encourage one another, and never hesitate to share what’s in their hearts.

The young men are different.

Their trust comes more quietly, and that’s what makes it so meaningful.

Recently, my brother and I took a few of them to watch The Odyssey. What I expected to be a simple movie night became something much more. They talked about graduating high school, uncertainty about the future, relationships that hadn’t worked out, and dreams they weren’t sure they could reach. They shared songs that reflected how they were feeling and opened up in ways I never expected.

Somewhere along the way, “Sister Angela” quietly became “bruh.”

I don’t think they realize how much that makes me smile.

They’ve reminded me that strength isn’t measured by having all the answers. Some of the strongest people I know are also the gentlest. They notice when someone is struggling. They ask how others are doing. They offer help without expecting recognition. They care deeply, even if they don’t always know how to express it.

If I could tell all of them one thing, it would be this:

Don’t rush.

There is so much pressure to know exactly who you’ll become, what career you’ll choose, or whom you’ll marry. But this season isn’t meant to be rushed. Learn who you are before trying to become everything for someone else. Build your relationship with the Savior. Learn to love the person Heavenly Father created you to be.

One of my favorite memories happened on the final night of youth camp.

One of the young men asked me, “Sister Angela, do you like us more before camp or during camp?”

I laughed before answering.

“Both.”

“I liked you before camp because I wasn’t constantly hearing my name every five minutes.”

Everyone laughed.

“But I loved seeing you during camp because I got to see who you really are. You laughed without worrying what anyone thought. You served one another without being asked. You encouraged each other. You were simply yourselves.”

That’s the version of each of you I hope never changes.

Looking back over this past year, I can honestly say this calling has given me far more than I have ever been able to give in return.

There have been disappointments. Not every idea succeeds. Sometimes plans change, and sometimes the work feels unnoticed. But those moments have never outweighed the joy of serving alongside such incredible youth. Every experience has taught me to listen a little more, judge a little less, and trust the Lord a little deeper.

To my young women and young men,

Thank you for trusting me with your stories, your laughter, your questions, your victories, and even your struggles. Thank you for letting me witness the incredible people you are becoming. You may never fully realize how much you’ve influenced me simply by being yourselves.

I’ve laughed with you, worried about you, celebrated with you, and prayed for you. Watching you grow has been one of the greatest privileges of my life.

As you continue into adulthood, there will be moments when you question yourselves or wonder if you’re enough.

When those moments come, I hope you’ll remember this:

You are a beloved child of Heavenly Father.

You are loved more than you can imagine.

You are capable of becoming more than you can currently see.

Keep choosing Christ. Keep showing kindness. Keep lifting one another. Hold on to the goodness that already lives within you, even when the world asks you to become someone else.

Thank you for letting me walk beside you for this part of your journey.

I will always be cheering you on.

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Love,
Sister Ang 🌸

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Faith, Reflections

The Language Of My Heart

I’ve often thought that the ten seasons I spent waiting would be my last. I never imagined another season would arrive—one where my heart would still find itself fluttering. Sometimes I wonder if heaven has taken pity on me, or if it is gently leading me into yet another season of trials and refinement.

Ever since I stopped living obliviously and began paying closer attention—not only to the people around me but also to my own feelings and reactions—I have realized how much I have changed. I notice the way people treat one another. I recognize genuine kindness just as readily as subtle wounds. I have become more aware of my own words, my responses, and the condition of my heart. I find myself feeling deeper sorrow when others suffer and greater joy whenever goodness quietly takes root.

There was once a version of me that believed love meant giving until nothing remained. I lived to serve, often forgetting that my own heart needed tending too. I rarely stopped to ask what I needed because I was too busy making sure everyone else was cared for.

Years ago, I prayed that Heavenly Father would open my eyes—that He would allow me to see the world through a different lens. Looking back now, I believe He answered that prayer.

I also have one quiet soul to thank.

When I feared my heart would spend a lifetime grieving someone who never truly understood how much I had poured into us, another person entered my life. I still don’t quite know what to do with his presence except to call him my little flower—a gentle bloom that appeared in my garden without asking for anything in return.

He has been remarkably kind, thoughtful, and every bit the gentleman I once believed existed only in stories. I don’t quite know where to place such goodness within my garden anymore. It feels both unfamiliar and precious. I find myself praying that it is not simply a passing season, but that his kindness remains as enduring as the goodness of his soul.

What frightens me most is not him—it is what he has awakened within me.

The walls I spent years building to protect my heart have begun to crack, despite every attempt to mend them. I am afraid that the feelings growing inside me may never be returned, and so I remind myself to stand my ground.

If I were to take that risk, would he step away?

Or would he choose to draw closer?

It is a question I am not yet brave enough to answer.

For now, I find peace in the quiet friendship we have. I fear that one impulsive step could create a distance that does not exist today, and I would rather preserve what we have than lose it altogether.

Still, I cannot help but be grateful for him.

He has never made me feel like an inconvenience. Every time I have asked for his help or invited him to something, he has met me with a willing heart. His generosity is never loud, only consistent. How could I not be drawn to someone whose heart gives so freely?

There is something undeniably precious about him—so much so that I cannot bear the thought of him being hurt.

These past few days, I’ve found myself reflecting on our conversations and the ordinary moments we’ve shared. More than anything, I have come to admire the way he carries himself. He listens before he speaks. He pauses before making a judgment. He chooses understanding before assumption. In a world that often rushes to be heard, there is something profoundly beautiful about someone who is willing to slow down long enough to truly see another person.

The other day, I found myself returning to Elder Gerrit W. Gong’s message, Love Is Spoken Here. He taught that the gospel speaks love through three beautiful languages: warmth and reverence, service and sacrifice, and covenant belonging.

As I reflected on those three languages, I realized they were the very qualities I had come to admire.

Love is spoken in the way someone pauses before responding instead of reacting.

Love is spoken in the willingness to serve without keeping score.

Love is spoken in making another person feel safe enough to be themselves.

I think that is what has drawn me to him the most.

He has become a gentle balance to my own spirit—the calm to my haste, the reason to my emotion, the quiet to my noise. Where I often feel deeply, he grounds himself in careful thought. Where I instinctively rush to mend every broken branch in my garden, he reminds me that some things simply need time to grow.

That may be why my walls have begun to soften.

Not because he has tried to tear them down, but because he has never once asked me to.

He has simply stood outside them with patience.

Maybe this season was never meant to teach me how to fall in love.

Maybe it was first meant to teach me how to recognize Christlike love when I see it.

For now, it is enough that we remain exactly where we are: caring for one another without expectation, enjoying each other’s company without forcing what has not yet been written. Some flowers are not meant to be picked the moment they bloom. Some are simply meant to be admired while they grow.

And if this season is meant to become something more, I trust that heaven will unfold it in His own time.

Until then, I will simply be grateful that my little flower found his way into my garden—and that, after believing my garden had withered long ago, Heavenly Father reminded me that it was still capable of blooming.

I believe that is heaven’s answer to the prayer I offered years ago—not simply to let me see the world differently, but to let me recognize the many ways His love is spoken here.

Sometimes through scripture.

Sometimes through covenants.

And sometimes through the gentle character of one of His children.

Until my heart is brave enough to speak, I will let it remain where it has learned to flourish—in gratitude.

After all, before love is ever spoken, it is first received.

And perhaps that has been heaven’s quiet lesson all along.

Perhaps that has been the language of my heart all this time.

Love,
Ang 🌸

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