This week has shown me something powerful about where my time, my heart, and my spirit belong.

For the first time in a long time, I have been too busy doing good—too busy tending to those who truly need me, my eternal friends and family—to give energy to the noise that has surrounded my life. The harassment that once tried to consume my days—whether from my son Tyler or from my neighbors—has not had the same power over me. Not because it disappeared, but because I chose not to give it my focus.

And in that, I have found peace.

But I would be dishonest if I didn’t speak on what still weighs on my heart.

My son, Tyler, has called me a sinner.

Those words come from a place I know is deeper than anger—but they still matter. Because I am his Mother. I have been there for him from the very beginning—before he ever took a breath, before he ever knew this world. And as his Mother, I take accountability for my life—yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

I believe in the Commandments. I strive to live them.

And when I have fallen short—even in moments my own family has judged or misunderstood—I have come to recognize those moments, to own them, and to grow from them. There were times I didn’t know how to ask for help without guilt. Times where I acted out of lack instead of understanding. That is something I can now see clearly, and I take responsibility for it.

But accountability is not the same as condemnation.

And I know the difference.

So when my son calls me a sinner while breaking the very Commandments he claims to stand on, I feel a deep need to say this—not in anger, but in truth:

Be careful when you judge your Mother.

Because I am not standing here claiming perfection—I am standing here claiming growth, repentance, and faith.

This week has also shown me something about family beyond just one relationship.

I have spent years trying to understand my place—not just as a Mother, but as an Aunt, as a Sister, as part of a larger family that didn’t always show me how to be what I needed to become.

There were things I was never taught.

But instead of staying in that place, I have chosen something different:

To become the example I wish I had.

To be the kind of Aunt I needed.
To be the kind of woman who leads with love, even when others don’t know how.
To create, through my actions, the kind of family spirit I believe in.

Even if it is only reflected back to me in spirit.

I believe in Eternal Families.

I believe in Zion—not just as a place, but as a way of living, a way of choosing each other in truth, accountability, and love.

And I know this:

Whether here in this life, or beyond it, we will come to understand each other.

We will learn.

We will grow.

And we will figure out how to be together in a way that honors who we are meant to be.

This week, I stood taller.

Not because everything is resolved—but because I am no longer allowing everything to define me.

I am choosing where my energy goes.
I am choosing who I tend to.
I am choosing to stand in truth without fear.

And that…

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