Let me be clear: this is not to brag. This is only to record and remember one of the greatest kindnesses I received all year. On Sunday, I gave my third gospel doctrine lesson. I had thought and prayed and fussed about it for weeks. I talked to my brother, Matt, and my dad, who is about the best gospel teacher there is, and asked for help and advice and wisdom. They generously gave me all of these. The lesson included chapter 54 from Isaiah, and I found this comforting because if there is one thing my dad has taught me, it is how to read and understand Isaiah. Remarkably, he never thought it was above us or too hard for us to understand. I gave the lesson to the best of my ability and I felt the spirit. That was all I could hope for. I taught the class some of the things that my dad had taught me. I closed the lesson with my testimony and asked a man in the class, Brother Brenchly, to say the closing prayer. The words of his prayer were the greatest blessing of my week. In an act of kindness that left me speechless and overwhelmed with gratitude, this brother humbly said with a tender crack in his voice, "We thank thee, Father, for our teacher who has been prepared her whole life to give this lesson on Isaiah." And at his words, I was thankful too. For his sweet words. Could a kinder thing be said? They were a balm to my tortured, beleaguered spirit. I was immensely grateful to be a part of a community of believers that would minister to me, inadequate as I am, with so much care. I was thankful for my dad, who taught me the scriptures from my youth. And especially grateful for the poet-prophet Isaiah, whose words are so beautiful, the Savior of the World quotes him.