He was there.  I don't know it but I do.  Today in my study I ready about witnesses to an event, witnesses to Joseph Smith's claim of the reality of the Book of Mormon.  They saw and touched the cold metal, pressed into pages and carved to preserve the reality of the authors' existence.  Yet a small fraction of the world believes their witness, what they saw and felt.  Why?  Why are we as people so unbelieving?  I feel like the father in the New Testament who pleads, "Lord, help thou my unbelief."  We doubt and worry, question, wonder.  I wonder if it is in the empty space in between the begining and the end that we begin to not trust. It can be hard to remember the details, how it felt, wonder if we are tricking ourselves to believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny, naive.  No one likes to look like a fool, not in the halls of a high school wearing the wrong clothes under the burden of judgement others place on our shoulders, bowing us over in shame.  Belief has to be a choice.  

A month ago, my husband laid his hands on my children's heads and blessed them through priesthood power God has given to worthy men to benefit them in their lives.  He blessed them each with specific blessings regarding their schooling.  Kjerstin, also received a blessing, ready to head off to college, live with roommates out from under her parent's watchful, worrying eyes.  She was eager to prove to the world she was ready.  And I entered the empty space.  Three weeks in and I find out through a text that a girl in her apartment has COVID, which sees college campuses like a fruit fly sees a bowl of fruit.  My mind flies back to the photo she posted of her roommates crowded in a small car, out to get drinks a few days before, no masks, no distancing.  And I forgot.  I forgot that beautiful blessing where her Father promised her she would not get sick.  I had to be reminded.  And so I am documenting that He was there.  He was a 1000 miles away protecting my daughter when I can't be there.  I can only hope she will remember this tender mercy she has received and remember.  He works in mysterious ways and has his fingerprints in our lives if we stop to look and choose to believe.