What a glorious sight it is to see your kind faces and feel your joyful spirits as we gather for this sacred time to learn together and feel the influence of the Spirit, both here in the BYU-Idaho Center and with those joining us through other means.
Growing up as a farm girl from Declo, Idaho, it is humbling, to say the least, to stand before you in this setting. As a mother of four children, who all currently fall into the young adult category, I am sensitive to the life decisions and choices you are faced with during this season of life. I have felt a deep sense of responsibility—and, honestly, a bit of anxiety—wondering how I could possibly express what the Lord would have me share.
I have prayed and fasted many times for inspiration and guidance. In return, Heavenly Father has gently brought to my remembrance certain thoughts and experiences that I feel impressed to share with you today. I have been blessed with the gift of empathy and a tender heart. Often, that means I feel His love for others very deeply—and sometimes, that love is expressed through tears. I trust you will understand the spirit in which I speak and receive any emotion as part of the message.
As we begin, I invite you to take notes—not only on the words that are spoken, but also, and especially, on the impressions and thoughts that come to your heart and mind. The Holy Ghost is the constant teacher here at BYU-Idaho, and He often teaches in quiet, personal ways. My hope is that you will recognize and record those spiritual impressions, as they may be the most meaningful part of your experience today.
Nearly eight years ago, on a sunny October morning, I was attending an early meeting with our student team when a FaceTime call came through on my coworker’s phone. It was unusual for her to receive a call like that during a meeting, so she let it ring. But when the phone rang again, she excused herself to answer it. After a moment, she turned to me and said, “Yes, she’s right here.” Then, looking at me, she added, “Jen, you’re going to want to step out to take this call.”
I took the phone, feeling confused, and stepped outside. On the other end, I heard the familiar voice of a colleague. Gently and with compassion, he told me that Cary, my husband, had been in an accident on the Archer/Lyman Highway and that the ambulance was on its way.
I quickly left the meeting. My team kindly gathered my things and walked me to my car. In a logical moment, I decided I should drive myself, so I’d have my own vehicle. So, my dear friend and colleague offered to go with me in her car. We left the Kimball parking lot and headed south toward the temple.
When she turned into the temple parking lot, I wondered, Why are we stopping here? Then I thought, Oh, right. We should say a prayer. What a perfect place to do that. I noticed she was on the phone, so I stepped out of my car to join her. That’s when I realized my hands and legs began to tremble. I knew then that it would be best for her to drive, so I left my car in the temple parking lot.
After finishing her call, she told me that Cary was now in the ambulance, headed to the hospital in Idaho Falls, so we should go directly there. Before leaving, we paused and said a prayer together, and I felt a rush of calmness and clarity settle over me. On the drive to Idaho Falls, I made a few phone calls to family to let them know of the situation, but I really had no information or details to share. Despite the distance to the hospital, the drive went by quickly.
When we arrived, I rushed into the ER only to be handed a stack of paperwork that had to be completed before I could see Cary. I filled it out calmly; the needed information came quickly to my mind. I was anxious to be by his side. When I finally saw him, our eyes met, and he said, “I can’t move or feel anything.” That was when I began to understand the severity of the accident.
It was a miracle that he was alive and coherent—and I was so grateful—but we still didn’t know the full extent of his injuries. While we waited, a family friend and nephew gave Cary a priesthood blessing. That moment brought me great peace. I knew God was aware of Cary and would be with us in the hours and days ahead.
Soon, the neurologist came in with the awaited test results. Cary had no internal injuries, which was truly miraculous, but he had a chipped tooth, a broken rib, minor lacerations on his head and leg, and a shattered C4 vertebra. His spinal cord was bruised but not severed. Surgery would be needed to repair his broken neck. The neurosurgeon on call that day was confident, despite the complexity, that he could perform the procedure in just a few hours. Cary was stable.
Soon after the plan was presented and the proper authorization was given, Cary was moved to a room in the ICU as he waited for his surgery time. My heart wanted to speed up the clock. The sooner his surgery started, the sooner he would be OK. The nurses began to prep him, then the surgery team came to wheel him away. I remember feeling left all alone in that hospital room, hoping, wishing, praying that he would survive the surgery, and he would come back to me. I could not lose him—not now, not ever!
The next few hours of his surgery gave me time to talk to my Heavenly Father. I shared the worries of my heart. I pleaded for understanding: “Why Cary?,” “Why Now?,” “Why us?”
Our family had been obedient to gospel teachings and commandments. Our oldest son, Logan, had just been married to his sweetheart in the temple six weeks earlier. Our other son, Kaden, had left to serve a mission in Mexico City just one week prior. We were faithfully serving in our Church callings. My list went on and on.
What would happen next? Would Cary’s body heal? Would he have movement and functionality? Would he ever walk again? The uncertainty was overwhelming.
In my grief and pleading, the Lord began to calm my troubled heart. I started to feel the tender mercies and prayers of others give me peace. I was lifted and sustained with the thought that sometimes accidents just happen.
We’ve all heard the phrase, “Sometimes bad things happen to good people.”
Elder Richard G. Scott taught, “Now may I share some suggestions with you who face the second source of adversity, the testing that a wise Heavenly Father determines is needed even when you are living a worthy, righteous life and are obedient to His commandments.
“When those trials are not consequences of your disobedience, they are evidence that the Lord feels you are prepared to grow more … He therefore gives you experiences that stimulate growth, understanding, and compassion which polish you for your everlasting benefit. To get you from where you are to where He wants you to be requires a lot of stretching, and that generally entails discomfort and pain.” [1]
But in moments like these, when plans seem to fall apart and we feel lost, we are reminded of a powerful scripture in Proverbs 3:5: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.” [2]
We often want to understand everything—to see the path ahead clearly. But these unexpected turns are not punishments or signs of our failure. They are part of God’s greater plan for us, designed to stretch us, teach us, and bring us closer to Him.
Sometimes, it’s during the unknown, when our own understanding falls short, that we can trust more fully in the Lord’s wisdom and timing. God’s plan often doesn’t unfold the way we expect, but it always leads to something greater—even if that path is different from what we envisioned.
We all face trials and challenges, and I imagine many of you are feeling stretched, exhausted, uncertain, or even in pain as you navigate the major decisions in front of you right now. Please know this is normal. These experiences are a meaningful part of our Heavenly Father’s divine plan.
God’s purpose is always greater than your problems or your pain. Every problem, trial, or conflict comes with a purpose—to teach us, to shape us, and to draw us closer to Him.
Adversity is not unfamiliar to us. In fact, I believe each of you could quickly identify a struggle you're currently facing, whether it's in your classes, relationships, work, finances, family life, or questions about your chosen path of study or future career. Maybe you're wondering who to date or if you should respond to that “hey” message you’ve received. You’re probably even wondering whether those long-hoped-for moments will ever come.
When the surgery was over, they brought Cary back to his room in the ICU. The doctor explained that his surgery was successful.
He was wearing a neck brace, had a tube down his throat, and had oxygen tubes in his nose to allow better breathing, as it was very difficult for him to do this on his own. Pillows were placed under all his limbs to provide comfort and protection since he couldn’t move. A towel was rolled up and positioned next to his head for support and alignment.
So much was going on around us, but in that moment, I felt hope. Hope in his ability to recover.
Evening came quickly, as I was completely absorbed in the steady rhythm of nurses, techs, and custodial staff coming in and out, all providing critical care. I was watching monitors, adjusting sensors, and learning intently what to watch for and how to keep him comfortable. Eventually, the lights dimmed, and the calmness of night settled in.
Cary was awake and was trying to communicate with me, but he couldn’t move or speak due to the breathing tube. He could blink and make some guttural noises.
I tried to guess what he was saying or needed. “Is it your head? Your legs? You need your nose scratched?” I was guessing all the little things he couldn’t do for himself. It was the hardest communication we had ever experienced—what a mess!
I started spelling out words. I began reciting the alphabet aloud: “A … B … C … D … E … F … G … H … I … J … K …”
He blinked and made a sound. “K?” I asked. He blinked again. Yes, that was right. I wrote it down and started guessing words with “K” with none being right.
So, I began again: “A … B … C … D …”
When I reached “I,” he blinked again. I wrote it down. “Kick? Kit?” I looked around the room for something that might help me guess—still nothing.
One more time: “A … B … C …” All the way through, I was watching his eyes. “P … Q … R … S …”
Another blink. I wrote it down and I looked at my paper: K, I, S.
“Kiss!” I exclaimed. “You want me to kiss you?”
I suddenly felt sheepish that it had taken me so long to figure out something so simple yet so far from my thoughts. But in that tiny, tender moment, I felt his worry—not for himself, but for me. He was trying to comfort me.
My eyes instantly filled with tears. I longed to embrace him, but I couldn’t. So, what do you think I did? You’re absolutely right—I leaned over that hospital bed rail and kissed every little space on his face that wasn’t covered by a bandage, monitor, tubing, or brace.
In that moment, the Spirit comforted my soul. I knew Cary was of sound mind. He was 100% with me. My miracle man was still by my side, and I knew that together we would face this trial.
When we talk about trials, it’s easy to want to skip over the messy middle of poor communication, confusion, questions, and indecision—the part where the real struggle happens. That’s where the pain is, where we wrestle with questions, and where we turn to the Lord for help. Sometimes we forget that being in the messy middle of a trial is where the most important work happens. That’s where our faith grows and where real change takes place. In the middle of the struggle—when things feel unclear, uncomfortable, and even overwhelming—God is doing something meaningful within us.
Right now, we’re living in what many call “the messy middle”—a season of uncertainty, waiting, and wondering. But even in the middle, we are not alone. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are always with us. They love us, They guide us, and They strengthen us through our hardest moments. And even when we can’t see how everything will turn out, we can be certain of this: If we keep trusting Them, we will be led to something better. With Their help, we can move forward in faith, knowing that the middle isn’t the end. It’s the sacred space where blessings begin to be recognized and true personal growth takes root.
Elder L. Lionel Kendrick once shared a powerful insight into enduring trials with faith. He said, “The Savior gave comfort and counsel to the Prophet Joseph Smith while he was suffering in Liberty Jail, explaining the beneficial effects and blessings that come if we bear our burdens well: ‘All these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.’” [3]
That message of comfort continues with this beautiful promise: “My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.” [4]
As Elder Kendrick taught in his talk, “Adversity is not evidence of God’s absence—it’s an invitation to trust Him more deeply.” [5] The “messy middle” is where we learn to do that.
The things that happen to us are far less important than the things that happen within us. Life’s storms are not meant to destroy us—they are tests to see if we will trust Him.
Elder Richard G. Scott said, “To exercise faith is to trust that the Lord knows what He is doing with you and that He can accomplish it for your eternal good even though you cannot understand how He can possibly do it.” [6]
Cary’s recovery journey was filled with unknowns. Each day brought new information and new steps forward. He worked tirelessly, moment by moment, pushing his body and brain to remember what they once knew how to do. When he was accepted into a remarkable rehabilitation center in Colorado, we treated each day as a sacred gift. We did our best to recognize the daily blessings, focus on the positives, and move forward with unyielding determination as Cary spent his days working with five to six different therapists. The schedule was demanding. His body was exhausted. Our family was separated. But we pressed on with faith.
Ether 12:6 teaches us, "And now, I, Moroni, would speak somewhat concerning these things; I would show unto the world that faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith." [7]
During this time, we often found ourselves wondering, Does “Thy will” match the desires of our hearts? What if the righteous desires for Cary to walk again, to be highly functional, and to possibly make a full recovery are not God’s will for us?
This spiritual wrestle—aligning our hopes with His will—became a constant theme in our prayers. It was a plea offered not only by us, but by our family, friends, ward and stake members, coworkers, temple patrons, the missionaries serving alongside our son in the MTC, and the countless others who knew of Cary’s situation.
I can testify of the peace that comes when we choose faith over fear and our hearts surrender to God’s will. Fear is “what if?” Faith is “even if.”
Remember that faith is not the absence of fear, it’s the decision to follow God even when we’re afraid—even if the answers don’t come right away, even if the healing is slow, even if the road is still rough.
We trust that God knows what He is doing with us.
I invite you to ponder on these two faith-provoking questions:
- Where in your life is God inviting you to trust Him?
- What if your detour is actually God’s direction?
My dear friends, I stand before you as a witness that God is in the details of our lives. I have come to know Him through trials, and I trust Him to lead us to the next right step. I testify that when we offer Him our fears, our broken hearts, and our unanswered questions, He offers us something greater in return: peace, purpose, and power through Jesus Christ.
I have seen His hand in my life, in the life of my family, and in our work at BYU-Idaho. I have felt His loving embrace lift and sustain me in trials when it was too much to bear alone. I have learned that faith in Jesus Christ changes everything—not just our circumstances, but also who we are becoming: disciples of Jesus Christ. I know that He lives. I know that He loves you. And I know He is with you, especially in the messy middle, because trials are God’s plan for growth.
May we each go forward with faith, not because we know the outcome, but because we trust the One who does. In the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Notes
[1] Richard G. Scott, “Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, November 1995, 16–17.
[2] See Proverbs 3:5.
[3] L. Lionel Kendrick, “Strength During Struggles,” Ensign, October 2001.
[4] Doctrine and Covenants 121:7–8.
[5] L. Lionel Kendrick, “Strength During Struggles.”
[6] Richard G. Scott, “Trust in the Lord.”
[7] See Ether 12:6.