Known by Name
I love reading conference talks. This morning, Elder Clement M. Matswagothata reminded me of something deeply personal: I am known—by name—by my Savior and by my Heavenly Father.
That thought alone should change how I take the sacrament.
He will guide me through every season of life—including this one. Not a season of doubt in Him, but a season of learning how to love and support the next generation without overstepping. Where is the line between helping and hovering? Between lifting and meddling?
Because He knows me.
He knows my joy and my sorrow. My burdens. My silent tears. My anxieties, my prayers, my loneliness, my grief. He knows how to heal a broken heart—my broken heart.
And if I am His disciple, then I have work to do.
Notice. Reach out. Lift.
I try. I really do. But I can do better—especially in learning how to do that with care. Sometimes love steps in. Sometimes love steps back. That takes discernment, and I need His help with that.
There was a line that stayed with me: “There is someone praying for you.”
My mind wandered.
I know Clyde prays for me—I hear him, and it is a great comfort to me. I pray for others, too. But beyond that… I’m not sure. I would hope my children.
And maybe that’s where my responsibility becomes clear—not to manage their lives, but to quietly cover them in prayer. To trust that the Savior, who knows them by name just as He knows me, is far better at guiding them than I am.
Maybe the question isn’t, “Who is taking care of them?”
Maybe it’s, “Do I trust the One who loves them most?”
And maybe this is where I learn to truly walk with Him.
Not wondering if He walks with me—He does.
But choosing, daily, to walk with Him.
To trust Him more. To minister with sensitivity. To love without control.
Because I am bound to Him through covenant.
Because He is the Prince of Peace.
And that should mean something.
Sometimes the holiest love is the kind that lets go—and keeps praying.
