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The following was written by Mercy Owusu for To read the full article, click here

I don’t think I ever really questioned anything about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints growing up. My good parents played a big part in that.

Family home evening, family prayer, and morning devotions were a must in our home. My father had been one of the first African missionaries to serve in my home country of Ghana. My mother often shared the many miracles that led her to join the Church. They were good people. I relied heavily on the testimony of my parents. It wasn’t until I moved to America that everything changed.

My brother and I called our first year in America our year of depression. Adjusting to a new culture and people was not an easy experience. I didn’t feel like I fit in—even at church. But I did my best to stay positive and give myself time to adjust.

I eventually served a mission, but when I returned, so did those old feelings of not fitting in. I blamed it on adjusting back from missionary life and moved on.

After a reasonable amount of time had passed, the feeling was still there.

I realized that I had a hard time feeling Heavenly Father’s love for me. I felt disconnected from friends; I didn’t have the support I did in the mission field. And maybe I was feeling like I didn’t deserve His love. I don’t know. There were nights when I would cry myself to sleep, wondering where He was. It felt like all of a sudden He was silent. Maybe my prayers didn’t ascend high enough. It bothered me because I noticed that it started to affect my relationship with others. I pushed friends away, not wanting them to know how I was feeling. I searched myself to see if there was anything I was doing wrong or needed to do better.

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