By Cosette Snarr

 My husband had suffered from uncontrolled seizures for over 25 years. I’d tried everything to fix them—and, if I’m honest, to fix him. Nothing worked. Eventually, I gave up. My attitude about it all had been… awful. I was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of hoping, tired of being disappointed. But I was also trying—really trying—to accept his condition with more grace.

On this particular day, we planned to attend the temple. Temple worship had always been hard for me. I’d hear people talk about how much they loved it there, how peaceful and uplifting it was. That wasn’t my experience. Still, in my effort to show up better for my husband, I wanted to try again. I knew that if my heart was going to change, it would only happen by the grace of God—and I longed to feel His Spirit that day.

I fasted. I prayed. I asked God to help me have a good experience and feel His love. It was one of the rare times I genuinely looked forward to going.

Everything went smoothly—until we entered the room where the men and women sit separately. Before I even had a chance to take my seat, I noticed a commotion on the other side. I knew instantly: my husband was having a seizure.

I rushed over. My suspicions were confirmed. A few men helped me carry my unconscious husband out of the room.

I was humiliated.

Every time he had a seizure in public, I felt a tight knot twist in my stomach. I wanted to run and disappear. That day, even in the temple, the feeling was no different.

We were taken to a small first aid room where my husband was laid on a cot. Two kind security workers stayed with us while he recovered. I knew from experience it could take a while. I apologized—probably more than once—for the inconvenience. They graciously brushed my concerns aside, but it didn’t ease my discomfort.

It took about 45 minutes for him to come to. I asked him our usual series of post-seizure questions to make sure he was coherent. One of the men accompanied him to the dressing room while I went to change.

Once inside a little dressing cubicle, I sat down and cried.

This wasn’t what I’d prayed for. This wasn’t the peaceful, Spirit-filled experience I was hoping for. All I felt was frustration and defeat. Why, Heavenly Father? Why can’t I just have one peaceful day of worship?

I got dressed and headed out, only to hear someone calling my name. My heart sank. I knew what had happened.

The woman who came to find me confirmed my fear: another seizure. This time, it happened in the men’s dressing room. I rushed in to find Gordon unconscious on the floor with three men standing over him. Was this nightmare ever going to end?

One of the men explained that he’d been in the cubicle next to my husband. He heard a thud, realized something was wrong, and when he couldn’t get the door open, he climbed over the divider to help. My embarrassment deepened.

But then he said something I’ll never forget:
“It’s not a coincidence I’m here. There’s no such thing as coincidences for people who are trying to do what is right.”
That was a new idea to me. And it stayed with me.

This time, they wouldn’t let my husband walk. He was wheeled out to the front of the building, where I met him to take him home. All I wanted at that point was frozen custard—my favorite comfort food. I was determined that would be our next stop.

But five minutes later, he had another seizure.

No custard.

That night, wrapped in self-pity, I grieved the temple experience I thought I’d missed. I’d prayed so hard. I’d wanted so badly to feel peace and connection.

And then the realization hit me:

I had received exactly what I asked for.

In moments when my husband has seizures and I’m alone, I often feel invisible. Unsupported. But not that day. That day, I was surrounded by people who cared—who dropped everything to help. People who weren’t embarrassed, but kind and calm. I was in the most peaceful building on earth. And God made sure I wasn’t alone.

He let me know He sees me. He’s aware of me. And He’s there for me—even if the way He shows up isn’t always how I expect.

That day at the temple didn’t go the way I planned.
But I now cherish that experience more than any I’ve had there.

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