In 1997, I packed up my daughter and a few essential things and moved from Utah to Maryland. That move marked the last time I entered an LDS church building for the next 25 years. I became inactive in the church despite having grown up in it and served a mission.
In Maryland I married a man I had met on the Internet while living in Utah. We were both teachers, and we had a good marriage; he was my very best friend. He passed away in 2014. I continued teaching for the next five years. In 2020, the year of the pandemic, my daughter, who was living in Atlanta, Georgia at the time, announced that she and her husband were expecting their first child. I retired from teaching and moved to Georgia to be near them. Moving during the pandemic was definitely a challenge, but as restrictions for elderly people started easing up, I volunteered at the Public Library and at the local Senior Center. I was in the process of meeting new people and making friends.
In late February of 2022, I woke up one morning with a desire to find my local Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints building. A little searching on line, I found an address that seemed to be the right one based on its distance. One Sunday morning I put my dog in the car and drove over to the church house. I just sat in the parking lot and watched people go in. I didn’t take any further action for a while, but on March 6th, 2022 I woke up with a desire to go visit whatever ward was meeting in that building at 10:00. I got dressed, drove to the building and arrived just before 10:00. I went inside and sat down at the back of the chapel.
After the service concluded, the missionaries approached me and introduced themselves. I mentioned that I was a member new to the area, having looked up the church’s address and meeting time, but uncertain if I was in the correct ward. Upon providing my address, they consulted their records and returned with a 95% certainty that I was in the wrong ward; my ward would meet at one o’clock. I prepared to leave, uncertain whether I would return. I felt a sense of accomplishment for attending, staying throughout the service, and now planned to treat myself to popcorn and a movie at home.
As I settled into my car, the persistent little voice urged me to attend the one o’clock meeting. I argued with the voice telling it I was done and was heading to the store to pick up some popcorn and go home to watch a movie. However, the voice persisted and I eventually decided to follow that prompting.
I returned to the church and sat down in a back pew. A woman approached me and introduced herself as the Relief Society president. I gave her only my first name and explained I didn’t want to share personal information just yet. She smiled and said, ‘We’re glad you’re here now.’ A couple of other women also greeted me.
After the meeting, the bishop came over and introduced himself. Wanting to be transparent, I told him that I wasn’t certain about my future attendance. I didn’t want to provide personal information in case I decided not to return. The bishop understood and respected my choice. I assured him that if I did come back, I would provide the necessary details for my records.
It was a couple of weeks before I felt prompted to return. When I did, it felt as if I had come home. I gave my information to the appropriate person so my records could be found and moved into the ward. That was the start of a wonder-filled adventure.
There is a quiet idea that many of us carry—sometimes without even realizing it.
It sounds something like this:
“If I step away too far… if I wait too long… if I make too many mistakes… it might be too late for me.”
We may not say it out loud.
But we feel it.
And over time, that feeling can turn into distance.
Not because we stopped caring.
But because we started to wonder if we still belonged.
That Is Not How He Works
The Savior does not turn away from us when we struggle.
He does not withdraw His love when we fall.
He does not keep a record, waiting for the moment we’ve gone too far.
That is not who He is.
Again and again, in scripture, we see the same pattern:
People wander.
People forget.
People make mistakes.
And He goes after them.
–Always Reaching
In the Savior’s parables, He speaks of a shepherd who leaves the ninety and nine to find the one.
He tells of a father who watches and waits for his son to return—and runs to meet him “a great way off.”
These are not just stories.
They are patterns.
They are promises.
He does not stand at a distance, waiting for us to fix everything first.
He comes toward us.
-Called, Not Driven
Sometimes we imagine that returning to God means being pushed, pressured, or reminded of everything we’ve done wrong.
But that has not been my experience.
And I do not believe it is yours either.
The feeling that brought me back was not fear.
It was not guilt.
It was not a voice saying, “You should have done better.”
It was something much quieter.
A gentle pull.
A simple invitation.
A feeling that said:
“Come back. You Still Belong”
No matter how much time has passed…
No matter how far you feel you’ve gone…
No matter how many times you have started and stopped…
You still belong to Him.
That has not changed.
It never did.
Your covenants—whether they feel close or distant—still matter. Not because they bind you in place, but because they are connected to a relationship that has never been withdrawn.
He has not forgotten you.
He has not replaced you.
He has not moved on.
What Returning Really Looks Like
Coming back does not require a perfect plan.
It does not require having everything figured out.
It does not even require certainty.
Often, it begins with something very small:
- a quiet prayer
- a single step toward church
- a moment of stillness
- a willingness to try again
That is enough.
Because He meets you there.
Step by Step
Gerrit W. Gong taught that however often we may stumble or fall, if we keep moving toward Him, He will help us—one step at a time.
Not all at once.
Not perfectly.
But steadily.
Patiently.
Lovingly.
Further In
As C. S. Lewis described it, the invitation is always the same:
“Further up and further in.”
And as Russell M. Nelson has invited us, toward a “higher and holier” way.
This is not about returning to where you once were.
It is about moving forward into something deeper.
Something stronger.
Something more complete than before.
An Invitation
If you are here, reading this, there is a reason.
Maybe it is small.
Maybe it is quiet.
But it is there.
You do not need to force anything.
You do not need to have all the answers.
You only need to take the next step.
He is already reaching for you.
And His invitation has not changed.
You are being called back.
Not with pressure.
Not with disappointment.
But with love.