I know who you are and I’m happy you’re here.

I care deeply about the words I use and their ability to help, teach, and testify.

The words haven't been forming lately.

Not sure the answers to give or questions to ask.

I even found myself at the temple, unsure of what I needed and certainly unable to articulate it in thought or prayer.

And that's okay; it’s necessitated growth.

---

I read once that Mother Theresa was asked what words she spoke in prayer to God.

Turns out, she doesn't say much at all.

"I listen."

Our Prophet shared why we ought to do the same.

“Please don’t let your prayers sound like a shopping list. The Lord’s perspective transcends your mortal wisdom. His response to your prayers may surprise you and will help you to think celestial.”

So lately, I’ve put away my own words.

And I’ve listened.

---

With a concerned friend, I didn’t speak much.

In a seminary class, I paused before moving onto the ‘next’ topic.

In the temple I was greeted by someone I recognized, though unsure they’d recognize me.

“I know who you are! I’m glad you’re here.”

---

I heard nothing new. In fact, all truth presented to me were truths I already knew, and had simply forgotten to live.

Somehow, His responses to my unspoken prayer were both surprising and familiar.

As I listened, I got to know the One I was listening to.

Even He that 'hath borne my griefs, and carried my sorrows...

He that 'was wounded for my transgressions, he was bruised for my iniquities: the chastisement of my peace was upon him; and with his stripes I am healed. (Isaiah 53)

He Who assigns purpose to every act of faith, truth learned, and testimony borne.

---

Never have I been more effective as a teacher, a student, a confidant, a patient, a friend - than when I hardly said a word.

Because when I listened, I heard Him.

And He reminded me that He knows who I am, and He’s happy I’m here.

And to me, there's no greater sound.