When God Speaks in Patterns

I keep thinking about how the Lord works in small, almost hidden ways, the kind that weave themselves into an ordinary week before you even realize ... something sacred is happening. Perhaps that is why this story feels so simple on the surface, yet it keeps gathering meaning every time I sit with it.

I was in the Bountiful temple last week, tucked into one of those quiet corners where the world finally slows enough for you to hear your own breathing. I had come in carrying the usual December weight... Lists that never quite end. A heart that feels both full and tired.

And somewhere... in the middle of all of that, a thought came, gentle and unexpected.

You need to start your food storage again.

It caught me off guard.

My food storage had been completely emptied during the pandemic, every last bit used during those months when the world held still.

And... Starting over felt overwhelming.

Honestly, it felt almost impossible.

And especially right now. So I brushed the thought away. I told myself it could wait.

But as I moved through the temple, the message kept returning, soft enough that I could ignore it, yet steady enough that I knew exactly where it came from.

Start small.

Just a little at a time.

It was not a command.

More like an invitation.

A nudge from a Father who knows the pace I can handle.

By the time I reached my car, the feeling had settled so deeply that I opened my phone and created a tiny plan, almost without thinking.

Fifty two weeks.

One simple item added to my list each time I go to the store. Not a grand project. Not a burden. Just a beginning.

And then the Lord began stitching this story together in a way I could never have orchestrated.

I picked up my sister from the airport Friday night. We were only a few minutes into the drive when she told me she had felt a strong impression on the plane that she needed to start food storage again. I think I just stared at her for a moment. Then I told her what had happened in the temple and showed her the little plan I had made.

A few days later, I had lunch with my dad. In the middle of our conversation, he mentioned he had felt prompted a couple of weeks ago to begin building his food storage again too.

Three different people.

Three separate moments.

One shared prompting.

Random? I do not think so. Not even a little.

What I am learning, slowly, is that God often works through these repeated whispers, these quiet confirmations that come through the people we love. It feels almost like He is gathering us, reminding us that preparation is not meant to be heavy. It is steady. It is small. It is guided.

So I am beginning again. One week at a time. One gentle step.

Trusting that the God who speaks in nudges is the same God who walks beside us in the details, weaving something purposeful through the smallest choices.

And maybe, if you have felt a similar tug, this is your reminder that you are part of the story too.