When I was in High School, we had something called block scheduling; we had the same four classes every day for the first semester, and a different four classes every day for the second semester, for a total of eight classes- or credits- a year. But, as a band student, I was able to earn an extra half credit per semester by participating in Jazz band. So, by the time I was a Senior, I had enough credits to graduate early- halfway through the school year. My high school was overcrowded, and I didn’t want to be there, so they let me finish early, saying, “We’ll see you in May at Graduation!”

Now, I wasn’t about to lounge around at home, nor would my family have allowed that. So, I got myself accepted to Fort Lewis College for the Spring Semester of the 2004-05 school year, and in the midst of a blizzard, I moved into a dorm room at seventeen years old, 250 miles away from home to begin studying Music Education. In retrospection, I now know that this was not the plan Heavenly Father wanted for me, but I was young, headstrong, and refused to listen. He knew better than I ever could have what challenges awaited me down this path, and despite His warnings, I chose not to listen.

The abuse didn’t start immediately, or at least I didn’t notice it right away. I may have been too busy trying to sort out college life to really notice. But, it started sometime during that first semester.

It was little things, at first. A look of disgust or disapproval. A snide remark. Total disbelief at my good grades. But, he was my academic advisor, band director, and private lessons instructor. There wasn’t a whole lot I could do- or at least I didn’t think there was- so, I let things slide and tried to adjust as best I could.

But, things got worse. A lot worse, really. He started isolating me from the rest of the students in the music department, cutting me off from potential friends. He would make remarks to me about my clothing choices, saying they weren’t stylish enough; for reference, they were jeans and t-shirts, much like I wear today. He would make remarks about my weight, and how I was too fat to be popular. And when that wasn’t enough anymore, things got worse.

He would tell me- privately, of course- that I was a spoiled brat and my parents couldn’t possibly love me. He would call my other professors- outside the department- to check on my grades and to see if I had a habit of ditching class. I found this out because my other professors would ask me why he was doing this. And, he even called my dorm room once, after I’d emailed him and my other professors for the day explaining I was sick with the flu and wouldn’t be in class. His reasoning? He wanted to make sure I wasn’t lying.

For three long years, I tried to adapt in order to please him so he’d leave me alone. For three long years I pleaded with God for clarity and understanding as to why I’d been placed in this situation when He had directed me into the situation- or at least I thought He had. For three long years, I berated myself, chastised myself, and lost every ounce of self-confidence I’d ever had because of the abuse I suffered. Finally, I gave up. I transferred schools, and moved home, broken and beaten.

My prayer for him became, “Lord, please let him find You, and begin to understand the pain he’s caused me and the harm he’s done.” I never wanted any harm to come to him; I never sought revenge. I only wanted him to understand what he’d chosen to do and to- at least- seek the Lord’s forgiveness.

But Heavenly Father had other plans for both of us.

I started at UNM that Fall, after auditioning and being accepted into their music department, but after two semesters, they had to release me because I wasn’t able to meet their standards. It wasn’t from lack of trying- I was just so tied up in knots from my previous experience, I couldn’t perform properly. And, at the time, I was okay with that. I converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I married my best friend at the end of that school year, and shortly afterward we were expecting our first child. I guessed it just wasn’t ‘meant to be’; God obviously had other plans for my life, and I was so knotted up from the abuse I’d suffered, I could barely function in that capacity. So, even though I was only two classes short (Conducting 1 & 2) of that Music Education degree, and despite the praise and encouragement I’d always received from those who could see my talents, including my private lessons instructor at UNM, I gave up. I quit trying.

I continued to take general education classes at UNM, trying to figure out what else I’d be good at, while being pregnant, and after that second year at UNM, I made the choice to switch schools and majors one more time. I ended up graduating from Northern Arizona University with a Bachelor of Science in Parks and Recreation Management and a Minor in Music Performance.

Then, in 2019, having moved on with my life in just about every imaginable way, I learned that my tormentor had suffered a massive stroke. He was now bed-bound, forced into retirement, and having to relearn basic skills such as walking and talking. I felt for his wife and children. His wife was- and still is- an absolute sweetheart, and his oldest child was only 11 years old. I knew it would devastate them. But, I was also shocked at what- I have to believe- Heavenly Father had done! I hadn’t prayed for revenge! I’d only ever wanted him to find God and to realize what he’d done! This felt like overkill! But, I hadn’t had anything to do with the event. So, I started praying again- that he’d finally slow down, find God, and begin seeking forgiveness before it really was too late; and that he’d learn a little about compassion along the way.

Soon, though, I moved on with my life again. I had a husband, and three boys to raise! I had a professional photography business to run. I couldn’t afford to dwell on the past for long. And then a world-wide pandemic hit, and I really did have to move forward with life.

Life changed dramatically for everyone during the pandemic. It wasn’t easy, but my family and I made it through, having only had a very brief, very light battle with COVID. I forgot all about my abuser and his health problems, or at least I didn’t think on him regularly.

We were all relieved when restrictions began to lift, as the pandemic ebbed, and after nearly three years of feeling disconnected from the world, I received an invitation that would change my life.

Just before Christmas in 2022, I received an email from the Church announcing the coming performance of the orchestral piece ‘The Lamb of God’ by Rob Gardner, and if anyone was interested in joining either the orchestra or the choir, to please email the person in charge. So, I did. It had been too long since I’d picked up any instrument and played, let alone played in a group of any sort, and I desperately missed it. After some back and forth with the orchestra’s personnel manager, I was offered the part of Bass Clarinet and I gladly accepted.

Rehearsals began in February, as the performances would take place Easter weekend. I admit, I struggled with this assignment. It had been too long since I’d played clarinet, and I’d never fully mastered it to begin with. But, with a lot of practice and some really quick memorization, I was able to play most of the part. And, as I sat through rehearsals, I realized I’d missed that environment more than I’d thought I had. That group- and those rehearsals- kept me together through one of the hardest times of my life: my grandmother’s death.

The day before my grandmother’s death, I learned of the passing of my former abuser and teacher. He’d been ill and hadn’t been able to overcome it. I was shocked, to say the least. I had never prayed for this outcome! I hadn’t thought of him in years- since I first learned of his stroke and subsequent challenges. But he was dead, and all I felt was relief. But, the next day, my grandmother passed away, and my emotions about all of it got tangled together.

There were still two weeks of rehearsals to go, and I’m still not sure how I made it through those, but I did. I wanted to drop out, and wallow in my grief. I wanted desperately to say it was too much and to quit. But, I’d made a commitment to be there, and I wasn’t about to go back on that.

Finally, it was the night of the first performance. And, as I sat in my chair warming up, listening to the other orchestra members do the same, and watching as the audience began to file in, everything paused for just a moment. In that moment, I heard Heavenly Father’s voice say, “It is done.” It was gentle, but firm. Resolute, but kind. And I knew in an instant that it was Him and to what He was referring. And, right then and there, in the midst of the pre-performance chaos, I knew: He had brought me to that moment for an incredible reason, and I began tearing up. Of course that caused my section mates to ask a few questions, but there wasn’t time to explain what I’d just experienced, so I just said I’d received some great news and we all moved forward, playing one of the most profound pieces of music I’ve ever heard. My mom, who was in the audience the next afternoon, was brought to tears because of the performance.

The miracle He’d brought me there to experience? I was playing my tertiary instrument in a professional-level orchestra for a massive audience. It was something my abuser said I’d never be able to do on my primary instrument, let alone on a secondary or tertiary. And, with God’s help, I’d done it. It wasn’t easy to reach that point, by any means. I’d suffered years of abuse at my teacher’s hands, waited 15 years, experienced the death of my beloved grandmother just weeks before, and nearly quit to get to that moment in time. But, with Heavenly Father’s loving support and guidance over the course of the 18 years it took for this part of my story to come to fruition, I made it.

This has truly taught me that Heavenly Father definitely has a plan for our lives, and that He is with us through all of our trials and tribulations, whether we recognize it or not. Furthermore, it has taught me that- like the biblical story of King Saul and David- Heavenly Father is definitely playing the long game. He knows our everyday wants and needs, but His plan for each of our lives goes beyond the days, weeks, or months that we are able to successfully plan for. His plans truly cover decades, and even centuries of our lives and our families’ lives. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob understood this, knowing that their stories would continue through the millennia.

I was incredibly blessed to see the conclusion of this story- this part of my life. It gives me hope for the future, and a deep and abiding faith that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have my back. I know without a doubt that They love me, just as I love Them.

Furthermore, this has taught me that miracles are almost never flashy, attention-grabbing experiences. They often aren’t huge, life-changing events. But they are found in the everyday tasks and challenges we face where something lines up so perfectly, that it could only have happened with God’s orchestration. Miracles happen every single day. We just have to learn to look for them, understanding that they are much more akin to baby Moses being discovered in the reeds and saved by the daughter of the Pharaoh, than Moses parting the Red Sea for the Jews to pass across. My miracle came softly, quietly, and certainly unexpectedly.

As I keep pondering this beautiful story, I keep learning from it. This is a story of learning to forgive, and of redemption. Of resiliency, hard work, and determination. But most of all, it is a story of faith, hope, and love. I know without any doubt that my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, lives.

Finally, as all Members of my Church say after speaking publicly in Church: I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen!