At church on Sunday, we decided to solidify our spontaneous plan to head out on a Memorial Day campout. We couldn’t be gone for the whole weekend—both my husband and I have callings. I’m a member of the Primary presidency, and he teaches in elders quorum. Still, we felt the pull of the wild and the time together as a family.

As soon as we got home, we split up the camping prep responsibilities. Before we knew it, the car was packed, and we were headed west toward Butte, Montana.

I texted a friend who lives in that area to invite her family to either come for dinner or join us to camp. We lost cell service at the site, so once we set up camp, all we could do was explore, play, and wait to see if they’d show up.

Guess what? THEY SHOWED UP.

Fully ready to camp—gear, kids, everything.

Our children immediately started running, laughing, and climbing. They found a giant boulder pile and promptly dubbed it Poopy Palace, as only a five-year-old can.

Camping with friends—especially friends who have kids—is such a treasure. The children entertain each other. They roam free, explore boldly, challenge each other, and learn new skills in ways that feel completely different than when an adult is hovering to mediate every moment.

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A Tick, a Prayer, and a Prompting

Monday morning, I was brushing my daughter’s hair by the fire when I noticed something odd. At first, my brain couldn’t process it. I thought it was tree sap—or some massive skin tag I’d somehow never noticed.

It wasn’t.

It was the most engorged tick I had ever seen in my life.

I freaked out. My brain went straight to panic: She’s going to get Lyme disease. This changes everything. Our lives are over.

But my husband—who grew up on the East Coast and knows ticks well—stayed calm. So did my friend. While I held my daughter still, they calmly removed the tick.

And here’s where it gets interesting:
As my friend worked, she mentioned she had noticed a box of sandwich baggies in her car when they were packing. She hadn’t put them there. She almost ignored them. But something about them stood out. They stuck in her mind.

So when it came time to save the tick (so we could send it in for testing), she went straight to her car and grabbed one.

Isn’t it amazing how the Holy Ghost prompts us to notice something that feels random—but turns out to be exactly what we need? Even when we don’t understand why, even when we aren’t actively asking.

For more information about ticks, please contact your local health department.

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Faith, Fear, and Firelight

We placed the tick in the bag and moved on with our day.

Except I didn’t.
I carried a quiet prayer in my heart all day—pleading it wasn’t carrying disease. Praying she would be okay. Praying that I would be okay if she wasn’t.

This girl of mine had such a rough start in life. Anytime something happens to her, my anxiety surges. All those early fears come rushing back.

In fact, my husband Patrick and I didn’t camp at all in 2023. That was a hard decision for us. I grew up camping. It’s part of how I connect to joy and grounding. He fell in love with camping after college, and it quickly became a shared rhythm in our marriage.

But our daughter’s health challenges made it impossible. We chose to stay home, to care for her, to wait.

And then—miraculously—she got better.
Like truly better. Whole. Strong. Healthy. A full recovery that I still marvel at today.

My journey through PPD

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When Plans Shift and Grace Steps In

That’s the funny thing about parenting: we think we know how it will look. We think we’ll be the ones shaping the story. But we don’t. We can’t.

Our children come into this world with their own needs, their own personalities, their own sacred paths. And as parents, it’s our calling to adjust. To let go. To surrender the timeline and pick up something greater: grace.

Sometimes that looks like skipping the camping season to spend a year in and out of doctor’s offices.

Sometimes it looks like brushing hair by a campfire and thanking God for a Ziploc baggie.

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Gratitude + God

I am so deeply grateful for my children.
Grateful for the health they enjoy today.
Grateful for the unexpected ways God walks with us—in friendships, in firelight, in quiet personal revelation.

I couldn’t have made it through their challenges without my faith—and without my eternal perspective.