Four years ago, I made a change TO me, FOR me!!!

Listening to Answers

Testimony.

What does it mean to have a Testimony of Jesus Christ?

My own relationship with that word, not necessarily the feeling, began shortly after I knelt to pray and asked how to become closer to Jesus Christ on March 6, 2013.

I was immediately impressed that I needed to be Baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, which I had never attended (except once as a guest while a small child).

When I called my granddaughter’s other grandma to ask her how to get the Missionaries to come to your house (so that I could ask them about this impression I received); she responded, “WOW, what a Testimony!!!”
To which I answered, “What’s a Testimony?”
Since that moment, The Holy Spirit has been teaching me what a Testimony is.

I have a Testimony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I KNOW this Church is TRUE.

I KNOW that Jesus Christ LIVES.

I KNOW my Heavenly Father, Christ’s Father, Lives.

I KNOW that His Spirit is The Holy Ghost which He has given me to guide me in using the other gift, my agency.

What is the result, the constant gift of having a Testimony? I believe it increases your Faith. If you KNOW The Holy Spirit, Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father live, and guide you each and every day, it is harder to worry as much. It is easier to know that whatever may come, it is for a higher reason and there is a blessing to be had.

This last winter was a hard one. Constant illnesses combined with my disabilities served to make me feel like there was no way I would survive the season. So, I prayed. Then I listened.

The Holy Spirit witnessed to me that my physical and emotional trials may have been difficult, but they would not be the end of me. It also witnessed that my experiences weren’t only for me, but there were others who would benefit from my trials. I don’t know why, but when He says that, I always feel better. Why would I go through the depths of hell for others, but not for my own progression? Something for me to think about.

As we progressed through the spring, I got physically stronger and with that, my emotional stability increased as well. Finally, I began to feel like myself again. However, I was left with the memories of the prayers in desperation. “God, am I going to live through this?” Isn’t a conversation easily started with one’s Heavenly Father.

In order to start that conversation, I had to have a Testimony. I had to KNOW that He lives. I also had to TRUST His answers. But, I wouldn’t have His answers if I hadn’t listened.

The Gospel Library App for Android (& iPhone) put out by The Church contains not only the written, but also the audio and the video for most of the General Conferences that have been held since 1971. On The Church’s website, you can also download any of these General Conference talks as well as are many of the devotionals, face-to-face events and other talks from our General Authorities and Auxiliary

Leaders.

I have found that if I take an assortment of talks and save them to a playlist on my phone, then I put that playlist on “random” and ask in prayer for the Holy Spirit to help me listen to what I need to learn in that moment, I am richly rewarded.
The answers that I crave in prayer, are delivered in talks given by our Prophet, Apostles & Auxiliary Leaders.

Heavenly Father has guided the wonderful programmers that have built this site and those apps, to make our modern scriptures available to us in many ways. Most of us carry our “smart” phone with us wherever we go. These devices can be used to study and share His Gospel. They can also be used to increase our Testimony.

A Temple Testimony

I LOVE to see the Temple.

The Twin Falls Temple in Idaho was the site of my “wrong turn” at the very start of the softening of my heart. Where I stopped and “felt” the building radiate out into the street.

April 20, 2013:  I went on my first proxy Baptism trip to the Seattle Temple just shy of a month after my own baptism. It was that day when I started my father’s work and my forgiveness of him.

October 19, 2013:  I spent my first birthday after my baptism, performing proxy baptisms for my family in the Salt Lake City Temple. Afterwards, I enjoyed a wonderful lunch with the first and only Priesthood Holder who ever asked me out on a date. They served spaghetti at the Salt Lake Temple cafeteria. That's something you don't forget. Fortunately, since I was not yet endowed I was in my street clothes, not a white Temple dress. That was the last date Hyrum and I had, but we remain friends and he has since developed a friendship with my husband.

May 13, 2014:  I received my Endowments at the Seattle Temple, with 3 friends from 2 different Wards. Later that year, I went through Mt. Timpanogos Temple with one of my Sister Missionaries for the proxy Endowments of both my grandmothers.

Since May of 2014, I have befriended many Temple workers in many Wards and Branches. I have even roomed with one while I was needing a place to stay in close proximity to my grandchildren for a holiday season. She helped bolster my Testimony on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. Marian helped me understand Personal Revelation. A Returned Missionary, she helped me trust God. That is a gift I don’t know how to ever repay.

When I visit a Ward, I find myself looking around. The Temple Workers seem to “glow” with light. I went up to an older, beautiful lady one day in the Lacey, Washington Stake Center that I was visiting. I felt I HAD to know; “Did she work at the Temple?” Yes, in fact, she confirmed that she did. The “Glow” had been apparent across the room.

My Patriarchal Blessing explicitly states that I will bless my family on both sides of the veil with the work I perform in the Temple. In the past two years, I have been blessed to catch rides with Temple Workers on many occasions, giving me the opportunity to perform an entire shift’s worth of Proxy Ordinances while I was there.

Snowflake, Arizona Temple

I look at the Temple Ordinance workers with gratitude and amazement. Even though sometimes rather elderly, they seem almost spry. Their minds are clear and their memories amazingly retentive.

This spring, just short of my Temple Recommend needing renewed; I felt an overwhelming compulsion. My best friend (and Visiting Teacher), Anne, had been urging me to not only go to the Temple to perform Proxy Ordinances while she and my other friends worked; she wanted me to volunteer to work there too!

Anne works in the Laundry of the Snowflake Temple, she suggested that I volunteer to work there also. I hesitated, because doing my own laundry is difficult enough for me with a broken back and other chronic pain. But that didn’t deter her. She was convinced I should be working in the Temple with her and several of our friends in our Branch.

In early March, as I was speaking to our Branch President about another matter, the compulsion felt overwhelming. I was attempting to open his office door to leave. The Holy Spirit whispered, “Turn around and ask him…” I knew what the Spirit was speaking to me about. The compulsion was incredibly strong; it was if I could not turn the doorknob I was attempting to reach. “Turn around and ask him,” the Spirit continued to whisper, but I hesitated. I didn’t want to appear too eager, feeling there must be some requirement I didn’t meet. There is no way I felt qualified to work at the Temple. But the Spirit would not cease, so I turned around.

After asking my Branch President if there was some way I could help in the Temple, some place I could volunteer, and if my services would be adequate, I felt relieved of the compulsion for a few days. That Friday when I visited the Snowflake Temple during Anne’s shift, it returned in the Celestial Room.

“Go talk to the Matron,” the whispering Holy Spirit urged. “Why would I want to do that?!” In shock I answered in my thoughts.

“Tell her you want to work here, tell her your experience.” The Spirit would not let up.

I entered the dressing room to ready (and steady) myself. It was crowded, more crowded than I had ever seen. I sought refuge in the lavatory, but even that room seemed overwhelmingly crowded. I prayed for courage in the stall.

Sitting in the Matron’s office, I felt silly to have been so nervous. The Assistant Matron was on duty that night and was a genteel lady with a radiant countenance. She glowed. As I explained the Spirit’s (and Anne’s) urgings, and my experience as a retired computer programmer; she shared with me that there was a spot opening up in the Temple Office. A elderly couple that had been with the office since the opening of the Snowflake Temple in 2002 was retiring. Their shifts would not be easy to fill and they would be missed.

I felt a reassurance from my Heavenly Father. There was a service I felt confident I could perform. To be able to share my skills on computers and office work with the Snowflake Temple and help perform the work that needs to be done, felt like an incredible blessing. The Matron seemed happy to be placing my name on the lists to be approved by my Branch and Stake Presidents.

Over the next couple of weeks, during my Fridays at the Temple, I got to know the Temple Presidency through a couple of very informal interviews. By the time my volunteering in the office was approved by the Stake President, my Temple Recommend was up for renewal for the first time. I had to go in for my interviews again

Then it happened, I received a call asking me to come in for an interview at the beginning of my regular Friday visit. That is a day I will NEVER forget. As my friend Anne escorted me into the Temple President’s office, Elder Bradley Foster of the Seventy appeared to be looking for something on the President’s desk. He engaged me in a brief conversation before the Temple President entered. I wish I remembered that he was the one who gave the talk, “It’s Never Too Early and It’s Never Too Late,” in the October 2015 General Conference that spoke to my heart, but I was too overwhelmed by the situation. When the Temple President entered, I was surprised when I wasn’t to be interviewed, but quickly set apart as an Office Worker, and sent off to meet the rest of the office staff, Recorder and the Assistant Recorder.

I made quick friends with the other new worker and briefly met the retiring couple. My life in the weeks since has been blessed as, among other things, I've been able to learn my tasks at the Temple Office very quickly and life at home seems easier too. I look forward to my Friday Evenings in the Temple every week.

My Testimony of Temple work is solid. I have a powerful Testimony of the Holy Spirit and I strongly agree with President Monson’s directive to “NEVER postpone a prompting.”

I leave this Testimony with you in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Climbing Back up the Ladder

Climbing back into the attic isn't just about overcoming the fall...

For me, it was about remembering three little words my husband taught me. 
It was also about being more conscientious about listening to the Holy Spirit.

The fateful day when I fell, now fifteen months ago, the wrong spirit was in my home. 

My husband and I were arguing about essentially nothing... but the spirit of contention was present. That also meant that the Holy Spirit was not.

It was the Holy Spirit that I felt each time I was quietly reminded to grasp tighter to the ladder. 

The Holy Spirit wasn't there that day... and I had my hands full of stuff and a heart full of anger as I fell backwards 10 feet into the air... landing on a hard floor breaking my back.

The Holy Spirit arrived with the Missionaries that day. The young Priesthood holders who my husband called to bless me, when I screamed for them in pain. 

They were his second call that day, the first being to 911. The Elders performed the blessing with me on a stretcher on my front lawn.

For the next four days, in a haze of intractable pain, I learned to walk again. 

I was in a steel brace for 6 weeks, then released for 6 more weeks of physical therapy. By the time September came, I was preparing to journey to Arizona with my husband to explore the land we dreamed of purchasing.

With Heavenly Father's assistance, I healed. 

When I returned to the house where the accident had occurred, it had been almost a year since the fall. I even surprised myself at the amount of PTSD that the ladder contained within it's every rung. But that very fact made me more determined to climb it.

The attic was my get-away. It was on that hard wooden floor of that attic where I prayed to God to know how to become closer to Jesus Christ. It was in that attic where I received the answer I wasn't ready for. It was in that attic where I was told by my Heavenly Father to be Baptized and become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

It is in that attic, where I feel closer to God. Perhaps, because I spent months up there, alone. Perhaps because the wooden floor has absorbed more of my tears in prayer than any other place in the world. Perhaps. 

As I climbed the ladder.... a poem started to form. I have shared it here:

Three points of Contact

Three points of contact
the words ring in my head

three points of contact
next time could find you dead

Three points of contact
my shoulders loaded with bags

Three points of contact
Forgot to drop my shoes
this could be bad

Three points of contact
Do curled toes count as one?

Three points of contact
four to go, I'm almost done.

Three points of contact
On the way up the stairs

Three points of contact
into my attic lair

Three points of contact
Why do I want to climb?

Three points of contact
to get writing out of my MIND

Three points of conact
almost to the top

Three points of contact
it would be crazy now
to stop!

Three points of contact
my pulse racing in my ears

Three points of contact
amplifying false fears

Three poinst of contact
breath shallow, too fast

Three points of contact,
my feet on the attic floor
I made it at last.

Three points of contact,
the phrase my companion
taught me

Three points of contact
make them each time
you climb
and be free.

Three Points of Contact

(My daily struggle with PTSD from my 10 foot fall off an attic ladder that broke my back, continues...)

I made it up the stairs, but trying to get back to writing when sitting is no longer acceptable to my body was another journey. I had wanted to write for months, but every time I tried to begin, I got frustrated with my pain level and stopped. 
Finally, it happened. I was able to not only put scriptures onto photos I had taken, but I was able to once again articulate in a written form.

So, here it begins. Again. 
Thanks for your patience. 

I hope everyone's week is full of the Love and Lighte of Jesus Christ. 

SlightelyMormon.org

http://slightelymormon.org/

Music Moves My Soul

I was born into a family that appreciated music. Everyone played something or sang, or both. On family trips, no matter who we were travelling with; the music was always cranked loud and everybody sang.

As a small child, I loved singing with both my mother and father. My little brother grew into a fabulous bass voice when he matured. Together we enjoyed playing with harmonies.

Although my parents divorced when I was very small, music was a constant in both of their households. I remember watching the Osmond Show as a little girl and thinking Marie was country like my mom, and Donny was rock and roll, like my dad.

My dad was stuck mainly in the 50s and 60s with his rock and roll. Elvis was a favorite with both of my parents. A fact I found curiously entertaining as a young girl witnessing their differences.  I couldn’t imagine them listening to music together, but I listened to the same songs in each of their homes.

My mom loved country music. Tammy Wynette taught me how to spell the troubles that my family was experiencing with so many others in the early 1970s.

My own musical tastes followed both of my parents as a child. I was often seen and heard dancing and singing around my parents’ homes to whatever they had on.

My first personal music collection began on 8-track tapes. I received a player and a gift certificate for 4 tapes at a local music store on my 10th Christmas. I picked out ABBA, Steve Miller Band, Jim Croce & The Carpenters.

As I grew into a teen, I soon left my school choir performances behind and began performing guest vocals with bands who were made up of friends, and a ID that said I was 20 years older than I was. I loved music. I loved to dance and sing.

My personal music collection expanded to include every type of rock, hard rock and heavy metal. I also enjoyed any and every alternative or female artist. A few country songs drifted into my collection, but the majority was on the very hard side.

When my children were young, I tried to encourage their musical interests. My oldest son took up a genre of music that I had actually attempted to keep out of our home when he was a child. He is currently pursuing a career in the Southern California Rap/Hip Hop music scene.

My second son took up the guitar, bass guitar and vocals. As an adult he has experimented with other instruments as well.

My youngest child, my daughter, took up the violin at age 8 and fell in love. A child born with perfect pitch; she has a beautiful voice that only falters as much as her confidence.

With all the music in my life, I was looking forward to dancing when I was invited to my first Mid-Singles LDS dance. It was even a theme: 50s.

It was late spring, I had recently been baptized. When I went through my music collection during my repentance and baptismal times; I was unforgiving. Any lyrics that encouraged feelings in me that were not Gospel-centered went. Deleted off of my hard drive.

I had replaced much of my music with young adult LDS downloads from LDS.org. A Sister teaching the Young Women gave me a CD. I also listened to Gospel country music. Even though many of the Gospel ideas within them were erroneous to my beliefs; praising God was much better than traveling down an audio Highway to Hell.

When I entered the dance at the Stake Center building, I was surprised at both the music playing and the atmosphere. It was completely contradictory to the Standards of Youth card I had come to carry in my wallet. The lights were all darkened to the point I couldn’t see people’s faces well and the music was more than a little on the “racy” side, and only a few 50s songs. The DJ was a young person who was not a member of the church.

As the lyrics of the music began to disturb me more and more; I escaped into the foyer to read The Book of Mormon that was placed there. Having come with a group, I couldn’t leave. But I wanted to.

When I inquired about the music, I was told that no dances have LDS music. No one dances to any type of Gospel music. All dances have popular music. I couldn’t have been more disappointed.

I FEEL the lyrics in music. I am a writer. I HEAR the words. I FEEL the emotion in the strains of the music. When a song speaks of sinful actions or emotions that are not in line with the Gospel of Jesus Christ; I have the privilege of feeling them.

I used to enjoy those sensations. The evil, just a little bit…. But as an endowed member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I have NO DESIRE to feel that way again. EVER.

That does not mean that I do not enjoy dancing with my husband. Dancing is still one of my favorite activities. It is the music choice to dance to that is my issue.

My dear husband, a fantastic musician, is currently grappling with my music situation. I long to be able to procure a baritone saxophone for him. Music without words may be a workable option.

For now… we will dance to the Gospel music from my stereo at home.

My One and Only Sibling

Apparently last week was "International Siblings Day" Facebook. After looking it up on Wikipedia, I discovered that it wasn't invented by Facebook, and I felt bad that I had missed the opportunity to tell the world about my amazing relationship with my brother. My one and only sibling.

The Book of Mormon works in mysterious ways. So does our Heavenly Father. When I was learning the lessons getting ready to be baptized, my brother was also undergoing an immense amount of repentance and pain. Heavenly Father began to soften my heart towards my family again. In particular, towards my brother who I had shut out of my life during his involvement in drugs and then prison.

When I was repenting and contrite upon my knees asking my Heavenly Father for forgiveness, I was also asking Him to bless my family, especially my little brother who was suffering the worse loss a person could imagine. Not only the loss of his child; but the loss of a child, barely an adult, for whom he already felt guilt in regards to his absence while that child was younger. I could not imagine his pain.

I was impressed, since it had been many years since we had even spoken, to write a letter to him. Since I was aware that he had previously investigated The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I was also impressed to include a Book of Mormon.
The other items I included with my letter were a book of stamps so that he could write anyone he wanted to, as well as one self-addressed stamped envelope. I wanted a reply.

The letter with the Book of Mormon reached his residence at an inpatient facility that was mandated by his probation. His return letter indicated that he was also on the path to a baptism. His, by a church near his treatment home.
My brother and I continued to correspond for his remaining time in treatment. When he returned to the area, against the advice of many who remembered the demonic influences in his life and how he embraced them, I decided to meet with him and get to know my little brother again. It had been decades since we had spent a good amount of time alone. The last time we spent time together at all was during a holiday and it ended in disaster and drama.

My little brother was born to our mother and father when we were living in Port Townsend. It was 1970, and I was almost 4 years old. When our parents divorced almost a year after his birth, we remained with mom. It was the two of us against the world. Usually also against our parents, using one against the other like typical children of divorced parents in the 1970s. Only I was allowed to beat up my brother, and I would beat up anyone else who tried. Yes, I was the type of big sister who volunteers in her baby brother's kindergarten class. I loved that kid.

Life in our lives wasn't easy. An angry, abusive step father as well as a biological father who vacillated between being absent and being the worse types of abusive were the father figures we had. Our mother loved us and loved God. She tried to expose us to many different churches so that we could choose for ourselves. This was quite a difficult task, when if we mentioned to dad that we had attended one, we could end up with not only a spanking, but a ring-side seat at a yelling match from hell between our parents. But we attended anyway. As many times as dad asked each of us to deny our God, it was only with a wink to each other and our fingers crossed. Me saying my prayers for forgiveness as well.

Through the typical drama of abusive homes of divorce in the 1970s and 1980s, my brother and I had each other. We could talk about anything. Satan had his way, in many ways in our homes. Finally, a fog of drugs and abuse took my brother from me.

As he furthered his way into the drug world, I separated my young family from his. As his family was being raised by other people, I kept him in my prayers. Then there would come short times when he would sober up, or attempt to hide the fact that he wasn't; and seek to come around. It broke my heart every time I was forced to shut him out of our lives. For my children's sake, it was all I knew how to do.

It was my little brother who called me on an August 2000 morning, to inform me of our father's suicide. Neither one of us had been informed officially, our father's only children, and we were not informed until 10 months after  his death on the weekend of my birthday in 1999. After tearful hours on the phone with his widow, I learned that the timing was not coincidental. In the 15 years that I had not seen or spoken to our father, his abusive obsession with me had not wavered. Our father's suicide was 50 years after his own father had taken his life when our father was 4.

Major Depressive Disorder, among other challenges, run in our family. Both my brother and I have dealt with this challenge ourselves. After our father's death, my brother and I saw each other a few times. He was in and out of prison, and I was raising a family. Our mother kept on me to get in contact with him through the years, but it wasn't until that Book of Mormon that I was impressed to do my best to fix what Satan and our temporal father had attempted through his abuse to tear apart.

Through the summer after I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, my brother and I began to spend a lot of time together. It was the first time since childhood that we had really had the opportunity to get to know one another. I, for one, found in my little brother a friend I never imagined. Someone who knew me, as I knew him. Someone I could give another chance to. Someone I wanted around me.

After a summer full of blessings of the new friendship of siblings, we were put to the test. In October I had been impressed that I had $300 put aside to spend on transportation and I had been frustrated at my lack of a car.  I asked my brother to come with me to see if I could find a car to finance. I had the afternoon before an evening meeting at the Family History Center for my new calling.

As we walked, we crossed a double train track. There was clear visibility both directions for at least a quarter mile. We crossed without hesitation. The Holy Ghost was a wonderful companion while car shopping, and amazed my brother by witnessing to us certain flaws to watch out for in each car. I was happy I had prayed that morning. Everything was wonderfully clear.

On our return trip, after having no luck in the auto venture, we came back the same way. Only this time, there was a train stopped on the tracks closest to us. We looked down each way, the train was at least a quarter mile long in both directions; I thought to myself it was going to be a long walk.

While I was thinking this to myself, my little brother did what he had always done while I was in charge of watching him while we were kids: embraced his impulsivity. He said "let's go" and proceeded to go under the train, stopping to get up between the train tracks before leaning under the train, to beckon me towards him.

I was in absolute shock. I don't remember speaking at all. I do remember how wide my eyes got when I felt Satan attempt to take my brother. I heard a witness by the Holy Ghost: Come BACK NOW!!!! I frantically motioned for him to come back.

For one of the first time in our lives, my baby brother actually listened to me. As he ducked and went back under the train, we felt the ground begin to rumble; before he was standing upright on my side of the tracks, a train was passing at an extremely rapid pace on the track that my brother was nearly standing upon seconds before.

If I had followed him, and not acknowledged and obeyed The Holy Spirit, neither my brother nor I would be alive today. We were so blessed to spend the holidays together for the first time in years as a family with our only living parent, one of my children, and two of my grandchildren. We are a family and we are blessed.

With our grandma, Margaret Ellen Savage Rebman in the 70s

I did end up spending that $300 on transportation, but that's another story on the pile for another time. It, too, is a long one.

Procrastination and the Atonement

When it comes to procrastination, I am so thankful for the Atonement.

Sometimes life catches up with me. I get overwhelmed at everything that I haven't accomplished, and I allow my failures to effect my present and my future. I keep hoping that I am done doing that, but I am only human so this challenge presents itself again repeatedly.

The more I have begun to understand the Gospel, the more comfort that The Atonement gives me. I know that my Heavenly Father has the utmost patience in me: after all, it took me 47 years to actually read the scriptures. Once I did, I began to understand the obligation that I had made when I chose to make the Baptismal Covenant.

The one lesson that has repeated itself more than any other this past year, is not to lean unto my own understanding. This lesson is a very difficult one. I have received so many blessings.

Like many people I have received a bit of revelatory blessing, but not complete with clear interpretation. So, on many occasions I have had the tendency to interpret a drop within an ocean; only to find that when I attempted to interpret (read: lean upon my OWN understanding), rather than just follow His promptings, I tended to mistake the ocean for a bucket of muddy water in my back yard.

Heavenly Father has guided my journey so carefully, knowing my heart and my soul and my deepest fears and desires. I know that. I also know that there is an adversary, that Satan knows how to tempt me into doubt and despair. His minions work in the shadows of my fears.

When I start listening to all that I haven't accomplished, all that I haven't done; I am only giving strength to Satan and his demons. I try to remember that, but sometimes that is a more difficult task than others.  Those times I reach for what I know. Time with my Heavenly Father in prayer, reading the Scriptures, listening to General Conference talks and spending time living the Gospel. These last two weeks, I have also spent time with our local Elders and my husband, sharing His Gospel.

I ask those who follow me to be patient with me. My writing is in "fits and starts"; sometimes I publish more than once a day, sometimes it's a few weeks. I truly try to write at least once a week. But life catches up with me. I have too many blessings that I have yet to share. But as they have piled up, the pile has created another reason not to begin on it. Ironically, this post was not even on that pile.

This past month has found me rediscovering reading. After all, I only love to write because I love to read! I have found many blogs of fellow Latter-Day Saints as well as furthering my reading of non-scripture hard-copy books. The Book of Mormon Girl by Joanna Brooks (which lead me to several blogs by the author) and Articles of Faith by James Talmage have been two of my most and favorite recent reads.
I was also excited this week when a casual remark I made on Facebook ended up partially quoted in a fellow-writer's blog. Check it out! :  The Flaming Poo Bag of Life. Loved the title and it more than reminded me of the demons I had been fighting.

Since we are currently living in a house owned by a Jewish friend, there has been much interfaith discussion in our household. This blog was quite interesting and amusing, written by another Latter-Day Saint: How to Host A Passover Meal.

I am looking forward to tomorrow. I know that the Atonement is Christ's gift to us. So that the guilt we feel, for those little things as well as those big things is passing. What more gracious and wonderful gift could anyone give anyone.

I pray that everyone has the opportunity to thank our Heavenly Father and Savior Jesus Christ for the Blessings of the Atonement during this Easter week. For me, I am busy repenting for the procrastination so that I may enjoy those blessings soon.

True Charity

We are taking a trip to the Bishop's storehouse for the first time ever today.
Most people not members aren't familiar with our church and it's charity, most church members never have the need to ask.
Frankly, like most of us, I don't like to ask for help for myself. However, living with two disabled men, I try to put their needs before my own.

This month, as my husband and I were looking at our budget and our need to travel to Washington at the first of the month. As we paid our tithing, we were given a witness that our situation would likely become financially difficult this month.

So we made sure to pay our tithing in full, and prayed that we would have the humility to ask for help when it was required.  This week it became a requirement.
When we talked to our roommate about seeking such assistance, it brought to his mind visions of rotten, outdated food from local food banks. Food that was not really edible, but that would sustain the most desperate.
Then I took out a copy of a food order sheet. He was amazed. The selection and amount of food offered, all non-expired and grown and packaged and blessed for the use of those who are in need.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints not only provides for it's members when they are in need, but provides the ways and means for it's members to become more self-sufficient.
On it's website, http://providentliving.org, the church has made resources for the education of it's members in regards to self-sufficiency in the areas of employment, finances & food storage available. They teach us to be good stewards of this world and it's resources.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has a programs to support their members, and their communities throughout the world.
One of the wonderful benefits of belonging to a church who truly cares for it's members, is that ALL our needs are cared for.
Anyone who is in need, need only to ask their local Bishop.
Not a church member, but need food: just ask.
I am happy and proud to be a member of a church that practices what it preaches. Charity never faiths. But sometimes we fail to ask. Fail to humble ourselves. But when we do find that humility, we are rewarded. Sometimes we are rewarded to be able to share those blessings with others.
To learn more about the Humanitarian efforts of our church, please visit: http://www.ldsphilanthropies.org/humanitarian-services/

Converts Are Like Butterflies - A Book of Poetry in Blog Form

I have been working on editing the poetry from the first year of my conversion for a while now.
Some poems I have shared here, some I have shared on other blogs.

Most I have not shared at all.

As I am finishing the editing of the poems, readying them for the book, I have created a space just for them.
The book will be called, "Converts are Like Butterflies: Poetry of Testimony", and the blog is the same.
Converts Are Like Butterflies is the blog where you can watch as I prepare the poetry I have written in the past year for publication.

Please feel free to comment with input.

The dates of the posts will be the original dates that the poems were written, so make sure to check in the past, as I will be "back-filling" them as I get them edited.

Thank you for taking time to read this, may your day be blessed with the Love and Lighte of Christ!

My Marian–A Sister in Zion

From the first time we met --
Both on unfamiliar ground
I knew we’d be quite a pair --
A pair of sisters
Athena likes to be around.

A Relief Society Gathering
Salmon we ate and songs
we did sing.
Several weeks passed
to each of us
separate Blessings He did bring.

Then when a trailer
just wouldn’t suffice --
you offered a hand -
a room, warm and nice.

Looking back on
just a few
weeks together --
I can say
with all my heart
It’s been quite
the pleasure!

As I now go
my way
and you stay
in your zone --
I’ll pack up
my stuff
but in the quilt
of my life 
a square you have sewn.

Of granddaughters
making cookies
in a kitchen full
of smiles and laughs.
To holiday parties
and making sure 
Santa had enough gas.

Floresent balls
thrown out
of the park
and a beautiful
back yard
that never gets dark.

You opened your
home full
of holiday cheer
welcoming my
best friend
baking pies
and my family
far and near.

Thursday cooking
for Elders
making a crowd
You listened
to my music
even when it
was a bit loud.

Thanks for letting
me make
your kitchen a mess
and understanding
when I just
needed to rest.

I enjoyed when
our Home Teacher
taught with his son --
and joining along
when Visiting Teaching
was done.

You’ve shared with
me firsts
we’ve cried & we’ve hugged
We’ve done the dishes
and cleaned the floor
of the mud.

We’ve sat
in the third row
for six weeks or seven
preparing to be
in His Holy presence
Getting closer to Heaven.

I will always
adore the moments
we prayed
And the times you
listened with care
not knowing what to say.

I can’t say
thank you enough
for being there for me
when it could have
been very rough.

I thank our Heavenly Father
with all that I am
For giving me a
friend like you --
a sister since we began.

For now
Athena and I
bid you a
fond farewell.
Not for long,
understand,
in my heart,
always you will dwell.

You go
about your
Missions --
I will travel
on mine.
Until we see
each other
I know we’ll
be just fine.

But please
don’t hesitate
to text
something amusing
or a Scripture I should
read next.

I’m going
to miss
my sweet dear
kind friend
But I ‘know I’ll
be in your prayers,
and I’ll be praying
for you through the end.

 

M ission-minded member

A Sister to all of God’s children

Refuge offered to many needy souls

In His tender care

About Her Heavenly Father’s business

Needed by her sisters full of love for her.



Happy New Year 2014

Love, Maggie

Woman of Many Wards

In the past few months. from June to December 2013, I visited countless meetinghouses. a couple of stake centers, and two temples.  During that time, I was a member of no less than four different wards.

I attended church every single Sunday from the time I experienced my personal revelation and prayed to know how to come closer to God in the year of 2013. I will do my best each and every Sunday in 2014 to do the same.

Many people may have assumed that I have missed here or there because they didn’t see me in Sacrament or Relief Society. Over the past several months I have had many unofficial callings. The kind where a best friend needs a friend who can take care of a dog & is knowledgeable of medical care while they recover from life-threatening illness. Or a dear family member was recently widowed and I was impressed that I could help by being closer to her and her children during the holidays.

Another adventure that I followed God’s prompting about recently was an October trip to the LDS Tech Conference in Salt Lake City. The events that both led to that trip as well as all of the blessings of the trip itself are so incredible I have been working on an extended piece on that experience. For now I will say that if my testimony hadn’t already been enormous, I could have been converted again just by October’s experiences!

These are the “callings” I have been listening to since I was baptized in March 2013. Since July or so, I have attended what ever Ward or Stake building that I have felt impressed to as my domicile changes. I have been richly rewarded with new friendships and blessings too numerous to count. I do thank my Heavenly Father for all of them at least nightly, though!

I have been intensely blessed with the ability to walk into a strange place and start up a conversation with pretty near anyone. My testimony seems to flow forth like a waterfall at times…. other times more like projectile vomit.
I always seems that I strike up a conversation with or offer to assist a Relief Society President or Stake President’s wife… or… just my luck, they are sitting together as I vomit forth such testimony to them both.

I love my life. It is blessed by my Heavenly Father moment by moment. He has brought so many people into my life who have helped me or allowed me to help them with just the right thing at just the right time.

Three years ago, on October 10, 2010, I began a journey across the states to visit friends who had invited me to their homes after meeting me through social media. I put my life in God’s hands at that time. He has shown me glorious blessings. I have finally made the choice to magnify my calling as a daughter of my Heavenly Father when I came to the church.

Now, after taking what a dear friend has dubbed “a religious sabbatical” for the past nine and a half months; I am planning to do what I enjoy the most, travel & write.
I will be revisiting much of the route and many of the friends and family I first began meeting in 2010. I will also be seeing many more friends and a few newly discovered family members as well as dear family who I haven’t had the opportunity to visit in far too long. I will be finally finishing that book I started back then.

The other items that I have added to my itinerary this time are Temples & some Family History Centers in areas where my family have resided. These are the sites and events I will be sharing here during my trip. I plan to attend the Gilbert Arizona Temple during it’s open house… a month or so before I can finally obtain my recommend. To say I am excited is quite an understatement.

I will also be attempting to make it to the Roots Tech Conference in February, but coming through the Rockies in February could be tricky, so I will continue to pray and seek His heavenly direction concerning that particular part of the trip.

The road trip is scheduled to last from early January through early March 2014; but I will continue to pray and ask for direction from my Eternal Heavenly Father and adjust my route and timeline according to His will. I will go where He wants me to go.

Saturday Night – Herding Oxen

My Saturday nights used to be pretty eventful. Sometimes, in fact, back in the LBC (Life Before Church), Saturday nights went on so long, Sunday morning got involved. Sometimes, there was even breakfast.

When my new friends in my new church explained that the only reason for breaking Sabbath was if the “oxen were in the mire”, I took it to heart. I interpreted that as if something that was life or death for a living being, it needed to be taken care of. 

Being so new in the Gospel; I didn’t want to break my observance of the Sabbath & my reverence towards my Heavenly Father for little things that could be taken care of Saturday or Monday. There are six other days in the week, if it couldn’t be done by Saturday night, it can be done on Monday…. right?!

Thus began my exciting Saturday nights…. herding my oxen away from the mire.

I spend Saturday; most especially Saturday night, making sure that I have taken care of little and big things that could become bigger and more immediately important on Sunday. I also take care of those chores that will eat at me while I would rather be sitting and studying my Scriptures or watching a General Conference talk. Or even sitting in quite meditation, pondering after a prayer.

A floor that is begging to be vacuumed or mopped, or an item of clothing I would like to wear to church not being clean;  is NOT a reason I WANT to break Sabbath. I have NO DESIRE whatsoever to break my observance of the Sabbath. So, I spend Saturday doing those things that may have been annoying me since Thursday; but will definitely put me over the edge of annoyance on Sunday if not taken care of on Saturday.

In this way, I will always have busy Saturdays. My oxen and I have a standing date. Kinda like the one I have with my Heavenly Father and Lord and Savior with the Holy Spirit on Sundays.

Have a Blessed Sabbath!