In theory, I knew the way to stay warm involved layers, but since my winter sporting mainly consisted of trying not to slip on the ice in the Walmart parking lot, I had never embraced the act of donning multiple sets of clothing. But when my toes grew numb and the wind left my ears aching, I decided to give layers a whirl. Fleece-lined leggings under my jeans and a sweater beneath my coat were my first additions. A second hat under my hat kept my ears from freezing. I doubled up on socks and sometimes on gloves as well.  

On days when the temperatures dipped especially low, I opted for the goose down coat that hangs in the family closet. It hangs to my knees and the sleeves engulf my hands, but the toasty level of protection it provides can’t be bested. Even with my breath freezing in my nostrils and sub-zero frost clinging to my hair, I managed to stay warm.   

We all hope our lives will be filled with sunshine and happy days, but we also know we will sometimes be hit with storms. The car breaks down, a child gets sick, a job is lost, a loved one leaves, we face a death or a devastating medical diagnosis. Sometimes we get through one crisis only to be faced with another. At times the challenges seem to drag on longer than our strength to endure. We feel overwhelmed, unloved, or forgotten. Our faith may waver. We are left shivering in the cold.  

So how do we equip ourselves to handle the deep snow and icy temperatures that are an inevitable part of life?

The apostle Peter wrote, “And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity” (2 Peter 1:5-7).  

We add layers.

Spiritual layers. 

We start wherever we are and begin building. We add to our layers each time we pray in earnest. Every time we open our scriptures and partake of God’s word, we add a layer. Each time we fast, do family history, minister, spend time in the temple, attend church, follow a prompting, we add layers, layers, layers. 

Building layers takes time. The Lord doesn’t expect us to do it all at once. In Isaiah 28:10 we learn, “For precept must be upon precept . . . line upon line . . . here a little, and there a little.”

Bit by bit. 

Little by little.

Layer upon layer. 

Our efforts may seem small. Simple. But “by small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6). By consistently repeating our small and simple efforts, we build great layers. We make the effort to read His word over and over. We find a way to serve others again and again. We turn to Him in prayer every day, multiple times a day. As we do the work day by day, our layers grow thick and strong. 

There will be times when our layers won’t be enough, when even through our hard built protection, the cold creeps in. That first winter, the cheap boots I owned left my toes cold no matter how many layers of socks I wore. To keep my feet from freezing, I had to invest in higher quality footwear. 

When we face especially difficult challenges and our regular spiritual layers feel inadequate, we need to invest more. 

Investing in spiritual layers requires putting in greater effort. That doesn’t necessarily mean more time. It does mean expending more mental effort. Pouring out our souls in prayer rather than simply speaking words. Seeking to have the Spirit teach us from the scriptures rather than just reading words. Striving to know our Savior rather than simply knowing of Him. 

It means putting more trust in our Father in Heaven. More faith in His timing.

Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “As we come to trust God, sometimes through pleading in our darkest, loneliest, most uncertain moments, we learn He knows us better and loves us more than we know or love ourselves” (Gerrit W. Gong, “All Nations, Kindreds, and Tongues,” October 2020). 

To read more of Cami’s articles, click here.

As we invest deeply in our spiritual layers, our efforts will bring us closer to the Savior. His power, His grace, His love will shelter us through the difficult trials. 

Nothing will stop the storms from coming, but as we build our relationship with Jesus Christ, we will feel His love wrap around us, engulfing us, providing the strength we need to weather whatever storms come our way. 

Our Savior Jesus Christ walks beside us through every storm. If we turn to Him, rely on Him, work to know Him day by day by day, no matter what frosty conditions swirl around us we will stay protected in His warm embrace.

Cami Klingonsmith

Cami lives in Idaho with her husband, various family members who come and go, and an energetic Siberian husky.
She volunteers as a costume director/seamstress for the drama department at her local high school where she gets to make elaborate clothing most people don’t wear in real life—which is what makes it so fun.
She enjoys reading, bird watching, gardening, and Zumba, but her greatest joy comes from being with her family.

But hoping it would be a fun, shared experience for us, I chose to go. 

We began our climb early in the morning, hiking through fields of wildflowers, past burbling streams and melodious waterfalls. Then we scaled tall rocks and trekked up steep switchbacks. 

At one point, we side-skirted a moose that wasn’t interested in moving off the trail and later did some back-pedaling to avoid two black bears directly in our path.

We practiced our balancing skills while clambering over a field of loose rock.

We happened on some old friends who we hadn’t seen in years.

As we neared the top, the trail grew steeper and steeper, ending with a precarious scramble up a rock face to the plateau of Table Mountain.

Seated atop the summit, we relished the view while nibbling peanut butter sandwiches. 

I felt tired, but oh-so-accomplished. The trail had indeed been difficult, but there had been beauty and blessings and unexpected surprises along the way. 

Check “hike Table Mountain” off my bucket list. 

Of course, we still had to go back down.   

As we started the downhill trek I wondered, had it been this rocky on the way up? Somehow, my toes seemed to hit every rock jutting out of the ground. After three and a half miles, the constant pounding made each step painful. Stopping to soak our feet in the icy water pooled at the base of a waterfall provided a temporary reprieve. But then I had to put my shoes back on. 

Every step grew more and more excruciating. Each time we stopped to rest, I dreaded starting again. When I felt certain we must be nearly done, but our GPS said we still had 1.8 miles to go, I wanted to quit. Sit down on the trail and wait for rescue. 

Finally, finally, we made it to the bottom. 

By the time we had driven home I could barely stand.  

For one full week I couldn’t walk. 

For one full week my swollen toes made wearing shoes impossible.

For one full week I sat in a chair with my feet elevated.  

But I didn’t regret hiking the mountain. If I hadn’t gone, I would have saved myself the pain, but I would have missed out on all the good parts as well. 

Sometimes Heavenly Father asks us to take a journey and we’re not sure we want to attempt that hike. The journey might be letting go of an unhealthy habit. It could be forgiving someone who has wronged us, caring for an aged parent, accepting a challenging calling or ministering assignment. It might be returning to school, moving across the country, or serving a mission. 

He asks us to do things that are difficult. 

Sometimes we are skeptical. We might doubt our ability to do what He asks. We may not want the struggle, the pain, or the sheer amount of work involved. We might not want to give up the comfortable position we currently find ourselves in. But we can trust that when we choose the journey the Lord asks us to take, the trail will always lead to our good.  

Proverbs 3:5-6 tells us, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

We must move forward, trusting the Lord to direct our path even when the trail feels difficult or becomes painful, when we don’t know what the journey will entail, or we can’t see what the end will be — when the path feels too long and we want to give up, sit down, and await rescue. 

The trail our Savior asks us to hike may be difficult. In fact, it will probably be difficult, because doing hard things is how we grow, how we develop strength.   

Elder Stanley G. Wells, in his talk “Do We Trust Him? Hard is Good?” said:

 “It is hard for a baby chick to hatch out of that tough eggshell. But when someone tries to make it easier, the chick does not develop the strength necessary to live. . . 

 

Do we have the faith to trust [our Heavenly Father]?” (Stanley G. Wells, “Do We Trust Him? Hard is Good,” October 2017 General Conference). 

To read more of Cami’s articles, click here.

Doing the hard things, walking the difficult paths, is how we develop the spiritual strength necessary to follow Jesus Christ.   

Do we have the faith to trust that the difficult paths will be worth the struggle?

Do we trust the Lord to direct our journey? 

As you accept the journey the Lord asks you to take, trust that the rewards will outweigh the difficulties. There will be beauties and blessings and unexpected surprises along the way. When you look back and see those blessings and notice how you’ve been strengthened through the struggle, you will be grateful you chose to hike the mountain.

Cami Klingonsmith

Cami lives in Idaho with her husband, various family members who come and go, and an energetic Siberian husky.
She volunteers as a costume director/seamstress for the drama department at her local high school where she gets to make elaborate clothing most people don’t wear in real life—which is what makes it so fun.
She enjoys reading, bird watching, gardening, and Zumba, but her greatest joy comes from being with her family.

While I wondered, the Savior’s words from the Sermon on the Mount passed through my mind: “Ye shall know them by their fruits” (Matthew 7:16).

The next spring, I watched with cautious anticipation. Would my tree bear fruit this year? Flowers blossomed. Then came leaves, and finally the tiny green beads that would become fruit. As the summer went on, the beads swelled in size and turned a reddish purple color.

Plums. 

I knew the tree by its fruit. 

But when Jesus made this statement, He wasn’t talking about trees. He was speaking of people. 

I wondered, what do the fruits I’m producing reveal about me?

According to the apostle Paul, “. . .the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, [m]eekness, temperance. . .” (Galations 5:22-23).

As followers of Jesus Christ, are we producing these fruits? 

Do the words we share on social media reflect love, joy, and peace?

Are we gentle and longsuffering with our families? With the people we encounter in the grocery store? With the person who cuts us off in traffic? 

Have our works been acts of goodness today? 

Chances are we will fall short in some of these areas. Thankfully, we can improve our ability to produce good fruit.

Fruit grows from seeds. 

Specific seeds.  

You can’t plant a peach seed and harvest apricots. 

If we want to create fruit of the Spirit, we have to plant seeds of the Spirit. What we plant is what will sprout. If we fill our minds with things that promote anger, intolerance, and injustice, that is what will grow. On the other hand, if we surround ourselves with things that foster love, self-control, and kindness, that is what we will develop. 

It isn’t always easy to plant spiritual seeds in a world filled with conflicting opinions and divisive voices, but it is possible. 

The first step is to spend time every day with Jesus Christ — the one whose fruits we wish to emulate. 

Spend time in prayer. 

Every day. 

Spend time reading His words. 

Every day. 

Spend time learning of Him. 

Every day. 

Spend a little time. Spend a lot of time. Just spend time.  

We also need to eliminate things from our lives that aren’t producing the kind of fruits we want. We need to do some pruning. 

I do not like the pruning. I prefer to let the tree grow how it will, thick and full and shady, but there are definite benefits to proper pruning. Somehow this act of snipping away at the tree makes it stronger and able to produce more fruit. Cutting away old branches encourages new growth. It shapes the tree to let in more light. 

Pruning can be painful, as most of the time we prefer to avoid hacking away at our comfortable lives. But there are benefits to doing so. As we cut away the parts that distance us from Christ, we make room for new growth. We become stronger spiritually. We begin to let in more of the Savior’s light. We produce better fruit and in greater abundance.  

What needs to be pruned from your life? 

Get out the snippers. Be relentless. 

Cultivating the fruit of the Spirit requires effort.

President Russell M. Nelson said, “The Lord loves effort, because effort brings rewards that can’t come without it” (Joy D. Jones, “An Especially Noble Calling,” Apr. 2020 General Conference). He mentioned piano lessons, saying that if you don’t practice, you don’t make progress. 

In the same way, we become better and better at producing good fruit as we practice, as we do the work.   

That first spring when its blossoms froze, my tree didn’t grow any plums. It held the promise of fruit, but it didn’t deliver. 

To read more of Cami’s articles, click here.

Similarly, good intentions aren’t fruit. They hold potential, but unless we follow through with works, there will be no actual yield. 

As we do the work that will bring us closer to Christ, the fruit of the Spirit naturally becomes part of who we are. It is literally the fruit of our efforts to become like Him. 

If we want to bear the fruit that our Savior brought forth, if we want to be known as His disciples, we have to do the work.

Plant the seeds.

Prune the branches. 

Put in the effort. 

What will your fruit reveal about you?

Cami Klingonsmith

Cami lives in Idaho with her husband, various family members who come and go, and an energetic Siberian husky.
She volunteers as a costume director/seamstress for the drama department at her local high school where she gets to make elaborate clothing most people don’t wear in real life—which is what makes it so fun.
She enjoys reading, bird watching, gardening, and Zumba, but her greatest joy comes from being with her family.

Ever.

When I first hung a feeder in my back yard, I was unaware of the lengths these little looters would resort to in order to stuff their cheeks with seeds. Then I discovered the front of the feeder had been torn off by an ingenious squirrel who decided to make it more efficient—at least by squirrel standards.  

Not wanting to risk another mangled feeder, I chose a new one that claimed to be squirrel-proof. When a squirrel climbed onto the perch, its weight caused the port to close. This worked until the nimble critters figured out they could hang by their toes from the roof and pick seeds to their heart’s content. 

I hung a suet feeder and watched the squirrels haul it up to their branch hand over hand. I tried a window feeder which they reached with a flying leap. Shimmying up a tall pole to a platform feeder was a picnic—literally. 

Finally, I discovered a squirrel baffle. Shaped like an Asian conical hat, it hangs just above the feeder. When squirrels jump onto it, they slide right off. (My feeder isn’t high enough to cause injuries from a fall.)

Now I have a simple feeder, not touted as squirrel-proof in any way, with a baffle strung a bit above the roof. It does, indeed, baffle the squirrels. They gaze up at the feeder from the ground. They scurry up the tree and peer down. They cling to the tree trunk with their feet and stretch their hands toward the feeder as if the force of their tiny wills might bring it within reach. 

But they will not stop trying to nick the seeds.

And their persistence pays off. Though the baffle has been largely successful at keeping them out, it is not foolproof. From time to time the baffle shifts so that it dumps the squirrels on top of the feeder instead of onto the ground. 

Constant vigilance is needed to prevent their plundering.

Satan is as relentless as a squirrel, except instead of stealing seeds, he steals joy.

He wants us to be offended, critical, angry. To hold onto grudges. To say the words we know will hurt. Take one small step away from our Savior. And then another, because he knows that being separated from God leads to misery.

And misery is his end goal.

“For he seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself” (2 Nephi 2:27). 

When it comes to robbing us of our happiness, he will never give up.

Ever.

The good news is that we can block Satan’s attempts to pilfer our cheer.

President Russell M. Nelson tells us, “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives” (Russell M. Nelson, “Joy and Spiritual Survival,” October 2016 General Conference).

Where is our focus?

President Nelson adds:

“[Jesus Christ] is the source of all joy. . .”

 

“He. . . offers an intensity, depth, and breadth of joy that defy human logic or mortal comprehension. . .

 

“How, then, can we claim that joy? We can start by ‘looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith’ ‘in every thought.’ We can give thanks for Him in our prayers and by keeping covenants we’ve made with Him and our Heavenly Father. As our Savior becomes more and more real to us and as we plead for His joy to be given to us, our joy will increase.

 

“Joy is powerful, and focusing on joy brings God’s power into our lives.”

We focus on joy when we take steps toward our Savior. When we let go of resentment, bitterness, and frustration. When we forgive. When we speak words meant to heal, reach out in compassion, and fill our hearts with love. When we look for and find God’s tender mercies.

Focusing on joy does not mean we won’t have trials. Afflictions are part of this life. But with our focus in the right place, we can have joy even amid those trials. 

We will always have blessings too. We often experience both hardship and boon all in the same day. Which one we choose to focus on determines our level of happiness. Focusing on joy—the Source Of All Joy—strings up a baffle that shields us from despair.

Since none of us is perfect, from time to time that baffle will shift. 

One of my favorite scripture stories is when Peter walked on the water. Afloat in a vessel tossed with waves amid boisterous winds, Peter asked Jesus, “Bid me come unto thee on the water” (Matthew 14:28). Then he stepped out of the boat and a miracle happened. But when his focus shifted from the Savior to the tumult surrounding him, he began to sink. Realizing his mistake, Peter immediately returned his focus to the One with power to save him. “He cried, saying, Lord, save me. 

“And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him” (Matthew 14:30-31).

To read more of Cami’s articles, click here.

When we feel like we’re sinking, when it seems that our joy is slipping away, or that we’ve been robbed of it completely, our focus needs readjusting. Our baffle has slipped.

Like Peter, we can immediately turn our attention back to the One with power to save, the Source Of All Joy.

Satan will never stop trying to steal our happiness, but we don’t need to sink into his misery.  

When we choose to focus on joy, we will find it—whatever our circumstance.

Cami Klingonsmith

Cami lives in Idaho with her husband, various family members who come and go, and an energetic Siberian husky.
She volunteers as a costume director/seamstress for the drama department at her local high school where she gets to make elaborate clothing most people don’t wear in real life—which is what makes it so fun.
She enjoys reading, bird watching, gardening, and Zumba, but her greatest joy comes from being with her family.

We had attached a large run to the coop, but still thought it would be nice to let the chicks out to roam around the yard. So out they came. They scratched in the soft dirt of the raspberry patch, gobbled bugs, and hunkered under the shrubs. After an hour or two of letting them wander, I was ready to be done chicken-sitting. Unfortunately, the chicks weren’t interested in returning to the coop. 

First, we tried to catch them, but we didn’t have the squat-down-and-let-you-pick-them-up kind of chickens, so our efforts resulted in a lot of rushing about for both humans and birds. 

Next, my teenage son suggested we could herd them into the coop. He found a long, wooden pole and, running in a half crouch with the pole held low to the ground, attempted to direct the chickens back to their home. 

The chicks ran — just not toward the coop.

Then we recruited other family members. Several of us surrounded one bird at a time, closing in until someone managed to grab the cornered cockerel. Another family member manned the coop door, yanking it open so the squawking fowl could be deposited inside, and slamming it closed so no birds escaped. Finally, we managed to get all ten chickens back inside their house. 

We repeated this process several times over the following weeks, but because chicken chasing is tedious work, we waited longer and longer each time. One day as we procrastinated returning the hens to the coop, we discovered a much easier method. We simply had to leave the door open and as the sunlight faded, the chickens returned to the coop all on their own. As darkness closed in around them, they instinctively sought their place of safety. 

We all experience darkness — physical, emotional, and spiritual. Sin (our own or that of loved ones), tragedy, illness, disappointment, depression, loss, and a host of other struggles can bring darkness into our lives.

When the darkness creeps in, or sometimes bursts through, where is our place of safety? 

Sharon Eubank, first counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency said, “When tragedies overtake us, when life hurts so much we can’t breathe, when we’ve taken a beating like the man on the road to Jericho and been left for dead, Jesus comes along and pours oil into our wounds, lifts us tenderly up, takes us to an inn, looks after us. To those of us in grief, He says, ‘I will. . . ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, . . . that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions’” (Sharon Eubank, “Christ: The Light That Shines in Darkness,” April 2019 General Conference).

Jesus heals wounds. 

He carries burdens.

He offers a safe haven.

Proverbs 18:10 tells us, “The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe.”

We don’t have to run far.

One of my favorite promises the Savior has made is, “Draw near unto me and I will draw near unto you” (Doctrine and Covenants 88:63). As soon as we make an effort — any effort — to draw near to Him, He is working to close the distance and offer us safety. 

When we go to Him on our knees, pouring out our hearts in earnest, pleading prayer, He is there to hear our plea, to grant us peace, to lend us strength. He does not leave us alone. 

When we seek Him in the scriptures, we will find Him — teaching, guiding, inviting.

When we knock at His door, He has promised “it shall be opened unto you” (Matthew 7:7).

He implores, “Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

To read more of Cami’s articles, click here.

He wants us to come to Him, but doing so has to be our choice. He won’t try to herd us. He won’t capture us and throw us inside the strong tower. Instead, He stands with arms outstretched, ready to encircle us, to provide rest and solace. Safety in the darkness.  

Jesus Christ knows the dark places. He has been to all of them. Because of His Atonement, He knows all of our experiences intimately. He has felt your pain, your sorrow, your despair. He knows what succor you need and how to heal your wounds. 

He is the Light in your darkness. 

His door is open. 

You can run to Him and find safety. 

Cami Klingonsmith

Cami lives in Idaho with her husband, various family members who come and go, and an energetic Siberian husky.
She volunteers as a costume director/seamstress for the drama department at her local high school where she gets to make elaborate clothing most people don’t wear in real life—which is what makes it so fun.
She enjoys reading, bird watching, gardening, and Zumba, but her greatest joy comes from being with her family.

I didn’t expect to enjoy walking a dog, but somehow those excursions became a delightful addition to my day as my puppy and I chased grasshoppers, followed waddling ducks, and crunched through fallen leaves. Though I had experienced all of these activities before, seeing them through the eyes of someone to whom they were unfamiliar (even if those eyes belonged to a puppy) made them new and fresh for me again. 

Then one day, after years of traipsing along the same morning nature trail, I noticed I no longer looked around me as I walked. I rushed past the ducks, the grasshoppers had vanished in the cold, and the leaves hid more smells than I cared to stop for. I tugged the leash impatiently, anxious to get back home. 

What had once been a source of joy for me had become just another task to be scratched off my to-do list.

I began to wonder what else in my life had once been delightful but had now become routine. How did I feel about my daily scripture study? Prayer? Serving others?

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf, an Apostle of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, created a parable titled “A Summer With Great-Aunt Rose.” In this parable, Aunt Rose finds happiness by filling her life with meaningful things. 

Filling our lives with things isn’t usually a problem, but how meaningful are those things? If they started out being meaningful, are they still?

What we do over and over has a way of becoming routine — even the essential things like personal and family prayer, church attendance, and time spent with loved ones. How can we keep them from becoming just another item to be squished into our busy schedules?

Sometimes we think the answer is to do more. Serve more, pray more, invest more effort. There are times when doing more is the right thing, and sometimes doing more is overwhelming and exhausting. Most likely, we just need to tweak what we’re already doing so that it continues to be meaningful. I didn’t need to take a longer walk every day; I just needed to find a way to enjoy the walk I was already taking. Spending a few moments to notice the muskrat swimming under the water and the great blue heron hiding in the reeds was all it took to bring joy back to my daily trek through the park.

To learn more about Cami, click here.

Similarly, in our spiritual endeavors, the answer may not be to add more minutes to our scripture study. Instead, we may need to ponder what we read and open our hearts so that the Spirit can teach us. Maybe we need to practice listening for answers when we pray, or put our phone away while we’re in church. Small and simple changes are often all we need in order to see life through a new and fresh perspective. The Holy Spirit will tell us what small and simple changes we should make in our own lives.

Elder Larry R. Lawrence (a General Authority of the Church) said:

“The Holy Ghost really does give customized counsel. He is a completely honest companion and will tell us things that no one else knows or has the courage to say.

 

The Holy Ghost doesn’t tell us to improve everything at once. If He did, we would become discouraged and give up. The Spirit works with us at our own speed, one step at a time. . . .” (Larry R. Lawrence, “What Lack I Yet?” October 2015).

One step at a time.

One small and simple step.

One little change here, a tweak there can keep our lives filled with meaning and help us consistently find joy as we walk the Lord’s path.  

Cami Klingonsmith

Cami lives in Idaho with her husband, various family members who come and go, and an energetic Siberian husky.
She volunteers as a costume director/seamstress for the drama department at her local high school where she gets to make elaborate clothing most people don’t wear in real life—which is what makes it so fun.
She enjoys reading, bird watching, gardening, and Zumba, but her greatest joy comes from being with her family.

Then, last year, my daughter gave me a bird identification book and I started really looking at the birds that perched on my feeder. I realized that in addition to the black-capped chickadees I had already recognized, I also had a mountain chickadee. And the little brown birds were actually three different species. I saw dark-eyed juncos, evening grosbeaks, and a red-breasted nuthatch. That year I counted twenty different kinds of birds in my backyard. 

I’m sure those same birds had been frequenting my feeder all along, but until I took the time to identify them, I didn’t realize they were there. I didn’t see them. 

That fall, my youngest left for a year and a half to serve a mission for our church. One day, as I sat at the kitchen table missing her terribly, a blue jay fluttered down and perched on the deck railing right outside the patio door. Blue jays are not supposed to live in Idaho. But this blue jay apparently didn’t know that. Or he was lost. At any rate, there he was in my backyard. He stayed for a couple of days and then moved on. The visit from that beautiful bird, that shouldn’t have been there but somehow was, felt like a tender mercy from the Lord. It felt as if God was telling me, “I see you. I’m aware.” 

I began to wonder, how often was the Lord sending me tender mercies and, like the birds at my feeder, I didn’t realize they were there? 

So I started watching for tender mercies.

Elder David A. Bednar, a leader in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, defined the Lord’s tender mercies as “the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ.”

They are the moments when He lets us know He sees us, that He’s aware of our circumstance.  

As I began looking for the Lord’s tender mercies in my life, I started seeing them. 

When I was backing out of my parking space at the bank and the car behind me was backing up at the same time. Neither of us saw the other until an instant before we would have collided. And then we saw. We stopped. No collision. 

A tender mercy.

Or the day I had to walk the dog when it was 2 degrees outside. I wore my sweatpants because they’re the warmest ones I own but the pant leg always twists inside my boot and drives me nutty. That day, when I was already having a rough day, somehow the leg didn’t twist.

A tender mercy. 

And when a friend invited me to lunch and we discovered she had information that would help my son find a place to live as he moved to another state. 

Another tender mercy. 

I’m sure the Lord had been sending me tender mercies all along, but until I took the time to identify them, I didn’t realize they were there. I didn’t see them.

To learn more about Cami, click here.

Tender mercies, like my backyard birds, are often small. They’re easy to miss if we’re not paying attention. Sure, we might notice a few. But if we don’t want to miss out on the more subtle ones or the vast variety that are already in our lives, we need to actively watch. We need to recognize what we already have right in our own backyard.

What we have is a Savior who loves us. Who understands our circumstances. Our hurt, our fears, our pains, our weaknesses. He sees us. He is aware. He is sending tender mercies.

Do you see them?

Cami Klingonsmith

Cami lives in Idaho with her husband, various family members who come and go, and an energetic Siberian husky.
She volunteers as a costume director/seamstress for the drama department at her local high school where she gets to make elaborate clothing most people don’t wear in real life—which is what makes it so fun.
She enjoys reading, bird watching, gardening, and Zumba, but her greatest joy comes from being with her family.