In June something happened to my heart and mind and I felt compelled to do something different and somewhat daring. This feeling led to a huge commitment and change in my life–my husband and I are serving a full time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Usually when we set out to do something big, there is a rush of energy and excitement as we press forward to make our dreams and plans become reality, but the other part of that reality is a confusing, messy and miserable part commonly known as setbacks. Others say it is opposition. As we put our lives in the hands of others, with it goes a part of our autonomy and we end up in a space of humility and sometimes we become impatient and a little desperate when things aren’t going the way we imagined it would. It is at this point I habitually start turning inward, isolate, and I lose my feeling of being centered and often my neuron paths in my head lead me to believe I am not really loved like I thought I was loved. This makes no sense, and it may not be a reality, but to me, it becomes very real.

What to do when this happens? It’s a place I don’t like–it doesn’t serve me, but yet, years of practice have rutted this road, well traveled and winding, a sad journey of self-centeredness and self-depreciation.  There are a few remedies I use to call myself back, and the simplest and most effective is music, good music. In fact, I have even created a couple of audio playlists to assist me on the road back, one titled “Pensive Release” and a second, “Well-Being.” I play these tunes which become the background of what I am doing in my life, and eventually, it helps. The product I use to make these lists often suggest songs derived through some algorithm to add to my compiled list; they have similar components to the music I chose, and therefore might seem appealing to me.

Recently, during one of these times, I came across a “recommended” song called “Lullaby.” The music is sweet and stirring, and the first time I heard it, I had to stop what I was doing and full-on listen as a vision formed in my mind. The room is slightly dark, and a mother is there, holding a fairly new infant in her arms, close. The baby has a look of serene and sleeping peace on her little face, a shine on her lips from the residue of milk left after pulling off the nipple, satisfied and full. The mother gently strokes the baby’s hair, softly, not wanting to wake the child but unable to resist touching this beautiful, lovely and perfect creation. As this video played in my head along with the music, a deep and wonderful revelation swept over me, warming me and filling my eyes with tears—you’re loved. You always have been. And you always will be.

Not the same video that played in my head, but here’s the music, enjoy.