She Called Me Gentle

I wasn’t born soft-spoken

Learned to be strong, to hide what’s broken

Kept my voice low, kept my head down

Didn’t know much about wearing a crown

But she saw past the dirt and dust

Saw the boy who tried to trust

Said, “You’ve got fire, but it’s kind

You lead with soul, not with pride”

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She called me gentle — not ‘cause I was weak

But ‘cause I listened when she’d speak

She saw the priesthood in my hands

Before I even understood the plan

She said, “Christ wasn’t loud, He wasn’t cruel

He washed feet — and He broke rules”

And in her eyes, I saw the temple light

She called me gentle — and she was right

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I’d fix the fence, she’d braid her hair

I’d kneel in prayer, she’d already be there

When I’d lose patience, she’d quote a verse

“Charity never faileth, not even when it hurts”

She told our boys, “Your dad is brave

But not in the way the world behaves

He loves the Lord, and that’s his strength

And that kind of power runs deep, not length”

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She called me gentle — and she saw clear

The man I’d be in my later years

Not just a worker, not just a name

But a disciple, with eternal aim

She said, “Christ stood quiet when the world threw stones

But He changed hearts — not just bones”

Now every Sunday, in my white shirt and tie

I remember that name… gentle, not shy

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Now she’s gone, but I still hear

Her whisper strong, her purpose near

I raise our sons with quiet might

I walk the covenant in her light

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She called me gentle — and that stays true

With every vow I still renew

At night I pray with open hands

Still trying to be the man she planned

And when I see her past the veil

She’ll smile and say, “You never failed”

Because I led with love, not with fight

She called me gentle — and she was right

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“The Savior leads with gentleness. And so did you.”