By Amanda Permann

This spring, my daughter got engaged—which meant I had the incredible opportunity to help plan her wedding. It was my first time planning a wedding for one of my daughters, and even though I had experience helping with my sons' weddings, I quickly discovered that planning for a daughter was something entirely different. Beautiful, meaningful… and definitely more involved.

From the beginning, I wanted the day to reflect her vision, not mine. I didn’t want to overwhelm her with my ideas or preferences. Thankfully, she wasn’t overly picky—she gave me her colors, shared a few things that mattered most to her, and trusted me with the rest. I was excited to get creative, to decorate and design something beautiful for her and her fiancé. But I also felt the weight of wanting to make it magical while staying within our budget.

We had set a realistic budget, and I was determined to stick to it. Still, the worry crept in. Could I actually pull this off? Could it still feel magical without overspending? And then came the logistical hurdles—she didn’t live nearby, so most of our planning had to happen over the phone. She was finishing her college semester, and I was juggling school year-end events, family obligations, and other responsibilities. It began to feel like a lot.

On top of everything, I had a hard time asking for help. I didn’t want to inconvenience others, especially when it seemed like most people were already stretched thin. Even though I prayed for guidance, I often stood up from my knees feeling more paralyzed than peaceful. Doubts began to creep in—not just from within, but also from well-meaning people around me.

Comments like:
"Weddings are expensive."
"It’s a lot of work."
"You never know how many will actually show up."

Their words echoed my own inner worries.
"What if I can’t afford the things I want?"
"What if I can't pull this off?"
"What if no one comes?"

The hardest part was that some of these fears felt true. It wasn’t easy to shut them down when they seemed rooted in reality. But I knew I had to fight back. So I started affirming things like:
"Everything works out for me."
Even when I couldn’t see how it possibly could.
And when the negative thoughts popped up again, I would gently say,
"I reject that thought."

Still, I had moments of doubt. But one day, while feeling especially overwhelmed, I remembered something powerful: the practice of writing a vision—describing what I wanted, in vivid detail, as though it had already happened.

That inspiring thought was exactly what I needed.

So, with just over a month until the wedding, I sat down and wrote a vision of how I wanted the reception to feel—using past tense, filled with emotion and gratitude, painting a picture in my mind and heart of how the day would unfold.

Here’s a portion of what I wrote:

It was a beautiful day at the temple celebration, surrounded by family and friends who made the day unforgettable. I felt overwhelmed with joy at the incredible turnout, which made the wedding day truly special. The atmosphere was filled with love, joy, and happiness, leaving me in awe and deeply thankful for all the support.

Helping to create a stunning environment for my daughter and her new husband was a pleasure. The church chosen for the reception provided the perfect setting, crafting a magical atmosphere. The fragrant aroma of greenery and delicious food filled the air, accompanied by elegant portraits of the couple and enchanting lighting that dazzled the eyes. The exquisite textures of the decorations delighted the senses, while soft, captivating background music created a delightful ambiance. Every detail contributed to a wonderful celebration of love, unity, and the sealing of a new family.

The dance floor was a highlight, bringing everyone together in a vibrant, fun environment. Throughout it all, I felt the presence of the Spirit and Angels guiding us, witnessing countless miracles.

That vision became my anchor. When doubts returned, I’d revisit what I had written and say again:
"Everything works out for me."

And slowly, almost miraculously, things started falling into place.

The weather was perfect—windy, but not too hot. Family and friends turned out in abundance at the temple, just as I had hoped. The groom’s family hosted a beautiful luncheon, and the gym filled with laughter and love. Despite my earlier worries about whether people would come, the reception line began at 6:30 and didn’t slow down until 8:30. Everyone stayed to celebrate. So many people said it felt wonderful to be there. The atmosphere was magical.

Help came, too—right when I needed it. A dear friend from Utah came down and not only helped plan all the food but also served it. Another friend, who installs false ceilings professionally, offered to do it for free. I found a local business called Unforgettable Events that provided gorgeous decorations—within our budget. The dance floor turned out to be one of the highlights of the night, with guests laughing and dancing the evening away.

It was beautiful. Not just because of the decorations or details—but because it was blessed. It came together with divine help and the generous hearts of others.

Looking back, I can clearly see the Law of Perpetual Transmutation at work.

My thoughts—whether negative or positive—carried energy. When I stayed in doubt, I felt stuck. But when I chose to plant my vision, speak my affirmations, and trust the process, things began to shift. The prayers, the visualizations, the affirmations—they were all seeds planted in faith. And when I watered them with hope and small steps forward, they bloomed.

This experience reminded me that our thoughts truly shape our reality. The Law of Perpetual Transmutation teaches that everything is in motion—either moving toward form or dissolving. And I saw it firsthand: when I chose faith over fear, I created space for miracles. And what once felt overwhelming became a day full of light, joy, and love.

A day I will always remember.
A day we will all treasure forever.