Testimony

Like Nephi, I was born of goodly parents.  Not perfect parents, but good loving people who tried to do the right thing.  I was loved.  My parents were both members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  They were not active in church.  My first memory of going to church was when a Sunbeam teacher sent cards in the mail to my little brother.  They were cute cards that invited him to primary and let him know he was missed.   He begged my mom to let him go to primary and see his teacher.  The next Sunday my mom let us all go.  My brother was less than impressed when he found out that primary meant sitting still and being quiet.  I, however, was hooked.  I loved it.  It just felt good and right.  I looked at the people around me, and they looked so happy.  I wanted that. I took myself to church after that.  I sat alone at the back of the church.  I may very well have been the best behaved child in primary ever!  I knew that if my mom heard that I misbehaved even one time, I would not be allowed to go back. I was baptized at the age of eight, but I think for my family it was more tradition than anything.   Just before I turned 12 a tragedy happened.  At least *I* thought it was a tragedy.  Our small ward was absorbed by another ward in a neighboring town.  Church was no longer down the street, it was a 30 minute drive away.  This is where my parents love for me really shines.  Even though they had no desire to go to church, they drove me to church every Sunday.  Sometimes my brother and sister would tag along, but mostly it was just me.  As I made my way through the Young Women's program, I developed a love for the gospel.  It just made sense to me.  It was like I was standing in front of a massive mural that had been covered.  I could only see a tiny piece of the mural behind that paper, but what I could see was so incredibly beautiful.  I wanted to see more.  Each time I pulled away another piece of that paper, there was more and more beauty behind it.  

My parents became partially active at some point.  They would go to church if myself or my brother or sister had a talk.  I think I logged more hours as the youth speaker than anyone else in our ward. My family moved out of that ward when I was a senior in high school.  I dearly missed the ward that had supported me well throughout all of those years attending alone.  In our new ward, something life changing happened.  I met my husband.  He had a similar back ground as I did.  His mother was an inactive member and his father was a non-member. There was a whole lot of drama surrounding our engagement.  That is another post...or twelve.  Fast forward to our wedding.  I was five months pregnant. Even though I had always wanted a temple marriage, and had always planned for one, I think our families may have actually been more happy that our marriage would be a civil one. (I will add here that although I did get pregnant before I was married, I never was inactive. Hubby and I both went through the repentance process at that time.)  I was happy to be married and happy to be expecting my little baby.  She was born 5 months later and was perfect and healthy.  It was five days later that I was trying to clean the house, and I suddenly could not breath.  My husband and mother-in-law rushed me to the hospital.  The doctors suspected a blood clot was in my lungs, because I was just a few days postpartum.   I was terrified.   I looked at my sweet husband and brand new daughter and was so scared and sad, because I knew I wasn't sealed to them in the Temple.  I kept thinking " They are not mine.  I am only borrowing them and if I die, this is all of the time I get."  After several hours it was determined that a postpartum infection was the cause of my problems and not a blood clot.  I spent the night getting IV antibiotics and went home in the morning.  

Hubby and I, along with our oldest daughter went through the temple a few days after our first anniversary.  It just happened to be Valentines Day as well.  My parents couldn't obviously go in the temple, but they drove the two hours to be with us on that day.  I was surprised when my father announced that he was quitting smoking.  My parents were sealed 6 months later in the same temple.  (On a side note, both my mother and I were pregnant that day!  My baby brother was born 3 months later and my son was born four months later.)  

When we lost our baby Nathaniel, my heart was broken, but through all pain, there was the comfort that my sweet baby is sealed to me. I am so very thankful for the Temple and the ordinances that happened there, linking one generation to the next.  I was pregnant with my fourth baby when my grandfather had open heart surgery.  It was a complicated surgery and he had an infection.  I was newly pregnant and beyond terrified of loosing another baby.  My grandfather called me from ICU.  He said "You have to have faith that this baby is going to be ok."   I said "Grandpa, I can't.  I had faith that Nathaniel would be OK, and I buried him. I'm just not strong enough."  My wonderful grandpa, who was not a member of the church, and who was laying in ICU with tubes coming out of his chest said "It's OK.  I'll have faith enough for both of us."  It was about four days before my due date that Grandpa called me.  He said "What are you doing Saturday?"  I laughed.  "I hope I'll be having a baby, Grandpa."  He said "Well, if you have nothing better going on I wonder if you would like to come over here.  I want your hubby to baptize me."  Ummm, ya, I'll be there.  The baby can wait!  We drove two hours when I was 4 days over due to see my hubby baptize my 68 year old grandfather. My baby was seven days late.  A year later, I went to the temple to see my grandparents being sealed and my mother sealed to my grandparents.    

So there you have it.  No incredible experience of conversion.   No exciting baptism story.  (Although, my grandpa's was pretty cool, I think.  There is even more to that story.  Maybe I'll have to post on that another time.)  I don't even have some fantastic pioneer story in my lineage. I am not the most knowledgeable person of the scriptures.  I have spent most of my adult years serving in the primary, so I can sing "Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam" with the best of them.  Actions included.   But, I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is the true church.  I know the Book of Mormon is true.  I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet and that we have a living prophet on the earth today, who is Thomas S Monson.  I know that my Father in Heaven loves me, not in the general sense of "God loves every one" but in the personal sense.  I know that He is keenly aware of me.  He knows my name.  He loves me and he wants me to be happy.  I am still standing at that beautiful mural, pulling the pieces of paper away.  I am growing in this gospel a little at a time. I love the Lord and I love being a member of this church.