06/08/2026
“I grew up the only Latter-day Saint kid in a tiny Minnesota town, raised by devout convert parents.
I had small, early experiences with God, like praying as a child and being led straight to my lost pet across acres of open field.
But I never had anyone my own age who shared my faith.
By high school I felt caught between two worlds: not good enough for the good, and not bad enough for the bad.
So I decided I would be bad enough for the bad.
What began as wanting to fit in turned into addiction and a double life, lying and using while still playing my part at church.
One night, after a prompting I couldn’t ignore, I felt my whole soul on fire telling me to go to California now.
I went, but I carried my addictions with me, and they only got heavier.
I met a bishop who told me over and over, “Heavenly Father loves you,” even when I yelled back that He didn’t.
Working a 12-step program, I internalized the wrong words.
Instead of ‘child of God,’ I told myself ‘I am an addict.’
That sent me into the darkest place I have ever known.
I lost every way I’d learned to cope, failed out of school, and could barely get out of bed.
For about six months it felt like hell on earth, and I begged God to just let me go.
And one night the voice came: ‘I cannot. I am bound by the faithful prayers of your parents.’
Then, broken down completely, I had what I can only call my rescue.
I felt my Savior lift me out of the water I’d been drowning in, hold me, and let me rest in a love I cannot describe.
I came back the same on the outside, but changed at my core.
From that night, I was free.
Years later that same voice led me into nursing, and I worked in the temple I once swore I’d never enter.
I married a man I never believed could love me, and our six kids are currently running in the yard.
He never stopped holding on, even in the years I had let go of everything, including myself.”
Naomi
