You might expect life’s defining events to come with fanfare, headlines, or grand gestures. But often, as David McCullough said in Brave Companions, “the little-known events of a given time, and people who are not in the headlines, can be what matters most in the long run, and the long run is the measure of history.”
In 2007, I moved to the Basin. Not for some grand plan or adventure, but out of necessity, burdened by student loan debt. Working in the oilfield was simply a means to an end. Attending an Institute class on a Wednesday night was just another step on my path of discipleship, nothing remarkable at the time.
Despite always being a dreamer, I wasn’t plotting anything. I was making small, faithful choices, unaware of how much they might matter.
President Dieter F. Uchtdorf said in October 2025, “You might not see these gifts displayed at the ward talent show. But I hope you can see how precious they are to the Lord’s work and how you might have touched, blessed, or even saved one of God’s children by your gifts.” That is how history often works. What seems small and simple in the moment carries weight we cannot yet see.
Looking back, growth, at least in my life, hasn’t come in a flash or a single decision. It came little by little, like sunshine and water nurturing a growing plant.
And on one ordinary Wednesday in May, at Institute, I met the woman who would become my wife.
And now you know the rest of the story.
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