I didn’t know why I kept going back. I just knew I felt like I should be there. It felt like there was something I was meant to do.
Just a couple of weeks after my first visit, Maja—who had befriended me—asked if she could come visit. I gave her my address, and she came. Not long after that, maybe two or three weeks later, my 80-year-old friend began having seizures. She was no longer able to drive, and she was worried about how she would get to church.
That’s when I realized why I was there.
I was there to help Maja get to church.
So I told her I would pick her up—and I did. Every week that she was well enough to attend, I picked her up and brought her.
I loved Maja. She loved to laugh, and she could laugh at herself as easily as at anyone else’s jokes. She loved everyone, and everyone in the ward knew her.
When I first started picking her up, I told the Relief Society president that I finally understood why I was there. I said, “I’m here to give Maja a ride to church.” I also told her that when Maja no longer needed my help, I probably wouldn’t keep coming.
But a lot happened between the time I started giving Maja rides and the time she no longer needed them.
After a few weeks of bringing her to church and sitting with her, I found myself quietly thinking during the passing of the sacrament about how it felt to be back.
I hadn’t come looking for friendship. Everyone in that ward could have ignored me, and I would have been just as comfortable. We go to church to support and sustain each other, but our primary reason should always be to strengthen our relationship with God.
It’s wonderful when people reach out and befriend us. But for me, I wasn’t looking for someone to make me feel better about myself—and because of that, I also wasn’t looking to be offended.
We tend to find what we’re looking for.
At the time, I didn’t fully realize it, but I was looking for something deeper. I was trying to quiet a spiritual need I hadn’t been able to put into words.
As I sat there, feeling the peace that came during the sacrament, I thought to myself, This isn’t a bad thing to do. Maybe I’ll start coming regularly… just slowly.
I wasn’t thinking about the temple yet. I had never felt completely comfortable there, and I didn’t have a strong desire to return. I also wasn’t quite ready to give up my Sunday movie and popcorn—something I enjoyed in the early afternoon when this ward met.
And then I felt something.
It was sudden—almost like a physical sensation, as if I had been struck in the chest.
And that small voice said:
No.
You don’t have time to do this slowly.
You need to make a decision—and move forward with it.
That feeling stayed with me.
I thought about it all week long.