Lest I Forget: Remembering to Remember
“Keep thy soul diligently, lest thou forget the things which thine eyes have seen…” Deuteronomy 4:9
Miracles
How can anyone forget miracles? How do I forget the miraculous things God has done for me when it gets hard again? How do I question if I’ll make it through the current breath-stealing hardship? Will He make sure it works out how I hope it will for me? Will I be okay?
Whatever I’m facing now may pale in comparison to the trials I’ve already survived—a 100% success rate, to be exact—and yet I still find it hard to remember the light in the darkest, hardest moments.
I find myself relating to the apostles who literally walked with Jesus in the flesh and still forgot. How often did they watch Him perform miracles, only to question Him the next time something seemed impossible?
John Hilton III mentions this in his blogpost, “Remember the Miracles”:
One of my favorite illustrations of our tendency to forget comes from two miracles performed by the Savior in back-to-back chapters. In Matthew 14, Jesus Christ fed 5,000 men, plus women and children with only five loaves and two fishes. It was an astounding miracle! After seeing this, as well as Christ walking on the water, his followers said to him, “Of a truth thou art the Son of God” (Matthew 14:33).
In the very next chapter, 4,000 men, plus women and children were listening to Christ. The Savior said, “I have compassion on the multitude, because they continue with me now three days, and have nothing to eat: and I will not send them away fasting, lest they faint in the way” (Matthew 15:32). You would think that the disciples would say, “Sounds great Lord, we would love to see you do another miracle,” but instead they respond, “Where will get enough bread to feed so many people?” (see Matthew 15:33).1
The apostles forgot. And sometimes so do I.
Remember.
How do we actually remember?
Time and again, we are told to remember in the Scriptures. The ability to remember and to forget is hardwired into us.
It’s easy to judge the apostles for their doubt, but when I reflect on my own life, I realize I’ve done the same. Why do we forget so easily? Science offers some fascinating insights.
The Queensland Brain Institute describes memory formation beautifully:
“The brain simmers with activity. Different groups of neurons (nerve cells), responsible for different thoughts or perceptions, drift in and out of action.
Memory is the reactivation of a specific group of neurons, formed from persistent changes in the strength of connections between neurons. But what allows a specific combination of neurons to be reactivated over any other combination of neurons?
The answer is synaptic plasticity. This term describes the persistent changes in the strength of connections – called synapses – between brain cells. These connections can be made stronger or weaker depending on when and how often they have been activated in the past. Active connections tend to get stronger, whereas those that aren’t used get weaker and can eventually disappear entirely.”2
That last sentence bears repeating: “Active connections tend to get stronger, whereas those that aren’t used get weaker and can eventually disappear entirely.” (Emphasis added)
Remembering isn’t automatic. It’s deliberate. If I don’t revisit the memories of miracles in my life—if I don’t use those synaptic connections—they weaken. They fade. They disappear.
Science confirms what the Lord has always taught: remembrance is a deliberate, consistent effort. When I revisit spiritual experiences, I’m strengthening those connections. When I let them fade, I’m weakening my ability to remember His miracles.
Remember.
A Body Broken, A Spirit Strengthened
I know this concept well from when I had to relearn to walk post-stroke. Forming new neural pathways, strengthening weakened and damaged synapses, and doing it over and over, consistently, is crucial to recovery.
My muscles had atrophied from not just complete immobility from being in a coma for a few days, but I had also been on bedrest my entire pregnancy (credit for that goes to HG (Hyperemesis Gravidarum), gestational hypertension+preeclampsia) with Brooks, my 2020 covid baby. After the C-section, I would be rushed to the ICU for blood pressure instability, would go on to have a brain stem TIA (complete paralysis from the neck down and not feeling them stabbing my toes scared everyone in the room), and after the 7th unit of blood was transfused, they finally found out where I was bleeding internally.
I was already trying to recover from a lot of physical things that were damaged or had atrophied when I had a stroke in the fall of 2021 on the right side of the brain, resulting in left side deficits. I had to be placed in a coma for a few days to get the seizures I was having under control. Being immobile for that length of time (not just during but possibly especially after) and is not restful, it’s incredibly painful. I was in severe pain constantly just from trying to move again. I yearned to be able to do “ordinary” mom things, human things like washing dishes, doing laundry, changing my child’s diapers, bathing myself. I didn’t know if this was going to be my new normal forever.
Do I have the faith to not be healed?
I can tell you the veil is thin. It’s the thinnest when you’re going through the most pain your body, your heart, your soul, your every cellular essence has ever felt. I can tell you angels are real. They are around me. They are around you. And they helped lift me. And Jesus, the Savior and Redeemer of my soul, carried me. He truly did. And He will again.
Remember.
A Baby's First Steps, A Mother’s Renewed Faith
2021. It’s evening time. I’m sitting on the couch in our RV, in physical and mental agony. I’m sobbing. Gut-wrenching sobs. My mom and my husband watch me in their own form of agony for me, for us. I cry out, “How will I ever walk again?” Just then, Brooks, now 12 months old, props himself up and takes his first wobbly steps toward me.
That’s how, Mama. Baby steps.
Faith in Healing: A Priesthood Blessing
Fast forward to 2024. It’s evening time in late January. I’m lying in my bed, in physical and mental agony. I can walk now. And I have answers—ones we’d sought for so long. A rare genetic mutation that affects all connective tissues, including skin, joints, hollow organs, and arteries, had been causing my health to progressively worsen for years.
This diagnosis finally gave me clarity, but it didn’t change the pain. Every day hurts. The average life expectancy is 51. Is this my forever? I don’t know. But I do know this: I do now have the faith to not be healed.
Healing doesn’t always come all at once. For me, it came in stages—sometimes painfully slow ones. I saw noticeable progress as I moved from a walker to arm crutches to a cane. The physical miracles were easier to see then. But healing from something like this—mentally and physically—is never just about the body. The pain of immobility, of being unable to do “ordinary” things cut into my soul. I wondered if this would be my forever.
That evening, I realized something profound: in all my years of receiving blessings for symptoms, injuries, and complications, I had never received a priesthood blessing for the condition itself—the very thing that was causing it all, now that we knew what it was. With that realization, I turned to my husband and asked for a blessing. I would be fine if nothing changed, but I knew I had the faith to be healed (or not) right then and there, and He had the power to do so, if it was part of His will for me at that time in my life. He can. He will. He does.
As he placed his hands on my head, I felt the Spirit fill the room. The words of the blessing confirmed that I had learned all I needed to from my trial. “Arise,” it said, “and go forth to serve and show the goodness and miracles He has wrought in your life.”
As the blessing ended, I felt a slow, warm surge of strength enter my very marrow. It wasn’t an instant, overnight change, but I knew—I knew—that something had shifted. Healing had begun.
“Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.” Isaiah 60:1
The Healing Unfolds
Now, a year later, my life looks drastically different. I’ve lost almost 100 pounds. The daily joint pain, swelling, bruising, and bleeding are gone. My bloodwork is incredible, and I’ve been able to come off numerous medications.
I’m no longer just surviving—I’m thriving. Where I once felt like the one always needing help, now I can sign up to serve in Relief Society. I can say “yes” to opportunities. My body, once so broken, feels renewed.
It’s not perfect, though. It’s not supposed to be. Life still has struggles—my PTSD and anxiety were recently triggered, and balancing my nervous system has been a challenge. But even in that, I see His hand. Already, He has helped me again, and I’m doing so much better than I was just a couple of months ago.
He Heals Us All
Christ heals in ways that remind me of my own journey—sometimes gradual, sometimes immediate, but always filled with purpose. Just as my healing came step by step, His healing often works in stages. He strengthens the weak, binds up the brokenhearted, and restores what seems impossible to restore.
And sometimes, He heals us in ways we don’t expect. That blessing reminded me that healing isn’t just about being made whole; it’s about being made ready—to serve, to grow, to testify of His goodness.
My healing is not just physical—it’s spiritual. It’s an ongoing journey of faith, trust, and surrender. It’s a reminder that while life will never be free of struggle, I don’t face it alone.
Because of Him, I am healed. And because of Him, I will always be whole.
Remember.
How I Choose to Remember
Like the apostles, I’ve had moments of walking on water—or at least, watching Christ hold me afloat when the waves seemed certain to drown me. And yet, when new storms rise, I find myself wondering, “Where is the bread? Will He really show up again?”
Remember.
I’ve seen more miracles these past few years, than I could ever have imagined to and yet, I can imagine it because that is the God I believe in. So, how can I forget? The answer is in science. The answer is quite simply, life.
I told some mom friends recently that sometimes I think, those days in the hospital fighting between life and death might just have been easier than this. Than what they’re doing, what they’ve been doing for a long time. Being back in the “land of the living” is hard. Being a mom and a wife is hard. This every day, all day long thing is brutal. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I’ll never be done with it. You don’t have to have huge, personal miracles to believe. To have something to remember. Miracles still happen even in the hard and messy of every day life. Miracles come in many different shapes, sizes, colors. Miracles happen to every body, every day. Even with the person who does not get “healed”, there are miracles happening.
And sometimes…sometimes, I forget. I wonder, how will I get through this? Forgetting that He has always been here and it’s not just me alone, traipsing through this life, trying to get through it.
If I’m not actively reminding myself of what He has done, I’ll forget that He’s done it, I’ll question if He can, and doubt if He will. Because if I’m not remembering, I’m forgetting.
Remember.
For me, I’ve learned to remember by writing it down. I keep a journal of my miracles—not just the parting of Red Seas, but the quiet, tender mercies that make up my days. Because what we write down, we revisit. And what we revisit grows stronger.
Sometimes, I also create “cues” to help me recall. A song, a photograph, or a particular place can bring me back to moments when God was undeniably present. The By Study and Faith blog3 reminds us that “sacred memory work” can be deeply personal, from keeping symbols in our homes to retelling our stories of deliverance to others.
Elder Ronald A. Rasband, in his talk “Lest Thou Forget”4, emphasizes the importance of remembering spiritual experiences:
“Never forget, question, or ignore personal, sacred spiritual experiences. The adversary’s design is to distract us from spiritual witnesses, while the Lord’s desire is to enlighten and engage us in His work.” He encourages us to recall times when we felt the Spirit and our testimony was strong, especially during crises.
When the Trials Come Again
Even with all this intentionality, the trials still come. And in the hardest moments, doubt tries to creep in. Harvard research reminds us that forgetting is often our brain’s way of prioritizing—clearing space for the here and now.5 But when trials overwhelm, that clearing can feel like losing sight of the miracles entirely. I’ve realized that in these moments, I’m not just battling the trial itself, but also the natural process of forgetting, of letting what I know slip out of focus.
That’s when I have to lean into deliberate remembering. I remind myself of the counsel from By Study and Faith:
“Create anchors of memory. Tie your testimony and faith to moments of spiritual clarity and divine intervention.” It’s in those anchors—those immovable moments of certainty—that I find the courage to keep going, even when the current trial feels impossible.
I don’t always know how this will work out. My mind still goes to the “what ifs” and “whens.” But when I pause and breathe, I remember: He’s done it before. He’s parted my waters, multiplied my loaves, and calmed my storms.
And He will again.
Remember.
How do you remember?
Take a moment today to pause and reflect on a miracle you’ve witnessed—whether it was grand or quiet. Write it down. Share it with someone. Tie it to something tangible that you can revisit in the days to come.
Because when the storms rise again—and they will—you’ll want those anchors to steady you. You’ll want to remember that He’s done it before.
And He will again.
I’d love for you to share the daily ways you remember. Perhaps a future post can dive into this deeper, with practical ways and examples of how to remember.
You are inspiring, Melissa. Please keep writing and sharing. I loved this one.
A young woman shared her testimony on my mission that I will never forget - she said, "The Lord knows that in order to remember, we need to forget first." She was talking about sacrament prayers and the blessings from it.
Thank you for sharing!! 🥹
This is really beautiful! It’s so true that if we don’t make strides to remember, then our memories fade. It’s like staying connected to the vine is the only way to bear fruit. Beautiful writing and excited to see more!