One afternoon, a sister from my ward stood awkwardly on my porch holding a plastic bag.
“I’m sorry to drop by. I know this is weird,” she said quickly.
She explained that she’d been at the store when I kept coming to mind. She wasn’t my ministering sister, and she didn’t really know me well. But there she was.
I thanked her for her kindness and tucked the candle and lotion into my bathroom for later, having no idea how much that small gift would soon mean to me.
What this sweet sister didn’t know is that a few weeks earlier, I had undergone a medically necessary hysterectomy.
For as long as I could remember, I had wanted five children. But endometriosis had different plans. I was able to have two children before years of infertility and pain followed. During that time, I wrestled with the painful gap between the family I had imagined and the reality I was living, but I had always held on to hope.
Then came the surgery.
After the hysterectomy, even my hope felt gone. I struggled to explain the grief of losing not only my fertility but also the dreams and identity connected to it. I prayed for peace, assuming time would help.
On top of everything, a post-operative infection landed me back in the hospital for an additional five-day stay. Finally home again, I slowly began to recover.
A few weeks after my friend’s visit, I felt well enough for a long-awaited bubble bath and lit the candle she had given me. Afterward, I opened the lotion and rubbed the floral scent onto my arms.
Suddenly, I began to cry.
Not because of the lotion.
Because for the first time in months, I felt like myself again. Through a simple gift, God had reached into a hidden ache and reminded me of my divine worth.
Experiences like that have changed the way I think about quiet ministering.
We read in the scriptures that “by small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6). That verse became deeply personal to me that day. Through a candle and a bottle of lotion, God reached into a hidden ache and reminded me that I was still me.
When we think about ministering, our minds often turn to obvious needs and larger acts of service. And while those things matter deeply, sometimes the people who most need love are the ones quietly carrying pain no one else can see.
Elder Gary E. Stevenson has invited us to “implement small acts of kindness and care” and to “prayerfully seek the guidance of the Spirit.” God knows what people need, and the Spirit is often how He tells us. It’s how that good sister knew to buy a candle and lotion for a woman she barely knew, even when it seemed small and silly.
God can see what we cannot: hidden grief, quiet prayers, private disappointments, and silent tears.
And sometimes, the answer to a private prayer arrives in a plastic bag.
More articles for you:
▶ Share these inspiring quotes with a 2026 graduate
▶ 3 practical tips for pacing yourself while serving others
▶ Does God really send us trials? A comforting truth about adversity
