As you know, I come from an incredible family. My mother is one of the closest things to an angel on earth that I have ever seen. As a child, I regularly saw her on her knees praying. I knew that she knew. We did all the things—family prayer, scripture study, family home evening, and keeping the Sabbath day holy. I always had faith, and because of the goodness I saw in my home, I had no reason to doubt that the gospel was true.
One winter, when I was about twelve years old, I was constantly sick. I would catch a cold that would turn into strep throat, miss school, recover briefly, and then get sick again. It felt like an endless cycle—illness, antibiotics, temporary relief, then sickness again. I don’t remember how long it lasted, but at the time it felt like I would never be well again.
During that difficult season, I became personally acquainted with God through prayer. Out of desperation, when I felt helpless and weak, I reached out to Him. In that moment, I felt His comforting peace. I knew He was there, that He loved me, and that everything would be okay.
A short time later, I had my tonsils removed, and the cycle of sickness finally ended.
Would I have preferred never to be sick?
Of course.
But had I not turned to God in my affliction, I would not have come to know Him as personally as I did, or developed the faith in His healing and in the Atonement at such a young age.