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. 

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

Faith of a Bishop

A congregation
Files in a bit late --
The Sabbath
after Christmas
Has the benches a bit sparse.

Aaronic & Bishopric
in a quiet, yet slightly
troubled stirring.
An Aaronic
Priesthood holder
quietly motions to the
Bishop at the podium,
"PLEASE delay,"
Desperation and concern
color his young face.
A worried chorister
agrees in doubtful
confidence with the Bishop
as he gives her quiet direction.
I watch my Bishop --
A man full of faith --
Say a silent prayer
Then ponder
for a quiet moment,
as the congregation
sat in vapid anticipation;
Then cue
to begin
the Sacrament hymn.
Those of us
paying attention --
Those of us
in a front row --
Took notice
of the faith
of our Bishop

To begin
the Sacrament hymn
Before the
bread
had arrived.

As we began
the second verse
of the slow
and reverent words --
a door opened --
bread passed through.
Sighs of relief
were heard;
more than a few.
The faith
of our Bishop
burned strong
in my heart,
as I heard
my own
message from God
about a new start:

Have faith -
say a prayer -
Then softly and gently
push doubt & doubters aside --
this one isn't their ride.

To the Latter - Day Saints

To those
who have felt
His Healing touch;

To those
who know
we've been
Given much.

To those
who
have glimpsed
His kind face,

and those
who
have stepped away
from the race:

Keep biking,
Keep walking,
Keep soldiering on;

Keep learning,
keep loving,
keep singing 
His songs.

One day
in His Glory,
Will drop
All to their knees.

Someday soon
ALL will witness
Why WE Believe.

My Best Friend's Role and Absence in My Conversion

It has already started.
Last week, I invited my best friend to join a new church friend and myself to a mid-older singles event.
It was just a little bbq behind a local meetinghouse, but it was where people first assumed I had been baptized by my best friend.

They didn't know just how wrong they were.

Truth be told; I was expecting their assumptions. I expect many more people to assume the same thing. So, before the world jumps to the conclusion that my best friend converted and baptized me, I would like to tell my side of the story, and expose just how much of a misnomer that assumption would be.

I was introduced to Rick, Richard Alexander Larsen Sr., through several people on several different occasions.  He became my best friend after we had both experienced a life event neither one of us had ever imagined: divorce.

Mine was after 22 years of marriage, 3 children and 3 grandchildren. His was after 27 years of marriage 6 children and 14 years of surviving stage IV renal cell carcinoma.
Neither of us were involved in the church at that time.

I would learn of his church history through his words. But I felt his anger at God.

Our histories regarding The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints were opposite: I had once attended sacrament service with a friend of my mother's when I was about 7 years old; He had been born into the light. His family were pioneers in the church, he descended by blood and by Priesthood from Zera Pulsipher & Clarence Larsen. He knew God and our Savior on a personal level. I did not.

We talked about God, Jesus, and spirituality quite constantly. His father and step-mother shared scripture passages with both of us through long phone conversations as well as email messages.

I thought I knew about God; but I did not understand his faith.

But I am getting ahead of myself a bit. When I met Rick, he was in a very dark period of his life. Many people on the outside, and some in his own family, assumed that he had embraced the darkness that appeared to be surrounding him. However, I saw a strange light within him. I was drawn to that light.

He confused, angered and frustrated me.

The intimacy defined by the touch of his forehead upon mine, sweeter than any kiss; left this former teenage mother confused and at times, in despair.
Here was a man who would tell me I was physically beautiful, lovingly call me a spiritually a child, and at the same time say that he also considered me very intelligent! I proceeded to misunderstand his every word.
He appeared extremely attracted to me, but yet did everything within his earthly power to resist acting upon those feelings.

In my mind, we were both divorced adults in our 40's. I saw no evil in the act of physical intimacy. But as he knew, I was spiritually a child. I didn't understand. He did. He tried to teach me. I didn't comprehend what he was attempting to convey.
It was at this point he made a promise to me, to be my friend forever.

My heart was broken. I went searching for answers in the homes of my friends across the country as I traveled and explored the country and the people that I love.

This was October 10, 2010, at 10:10. It was a very binary moment.

I did trust God. I put my life in God's hands as I traveled the country alone. First by train, then by car. First completely alone, only Christ by my side (I prayed constantly); then, in May 2011, my service dog and constant companion, Athena Brooke, joined my travels. Anyone who has ever had a constant companion in a canine knows that there is more of a connection between "dog" and "God" than dyslexia. I swear He communicated through her on several occasions! (but that is a story for another post at another time).

On several occasions, through my travels, (to the complete and utter confusion of many of our family

Rick & Maggie
2011 Denver, Colorado

members and friends) Rick and I spent time together. He would have an extra couch, or tent, and Athena and I would hang out with him and his dogs, until once again my heart would shatter for what I could not create from our friendship and I would resume my travels. I resumed my search.

In February of this year I finally reached the bottom, and finally started asking God some pretty intense questions. In answer I was impressed to resume the work on my genealogy in earnest, as well as to download the Book of Mormon.  But, as soon as I formulated the idea that I may want to get baptized, demons from hell were unleashed against  me.

My spiritual conversion could ONLY happen alone. 

During most of the time leading up to my baptism, our communication was very restrained.
Not by me, as I was flooding his phone with texts and questions, knowing he knew the answers through the scripture better than anyone I knew.  He had shared scripture stories with me for years; whereas I had never read the scriptures myself until this year.
But he was in a dark place, fighting depression and the demons that surrounded him.
When I messaged Rick, asking him if he thought I should be baptized; his answer (in spite of the chuckle I could FEEL on the other side), was a simple "if YOU think you should be."

After that, in the midst of attacks from every son of Satan; I prayed that God would show me the true church and my path. 
At this point in time, on the 6th of March, I silently wished that it had nothing to do with "Rick's" church.
God knows me, He knows my heart, and I felt the overwhelming answer to my prayer:  My granddaughter's church was the true church.
Yes, my granddaughters and their mother and her mother are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

My path, though, would continue to be a solitary one, in regards to my best friend. I felt him out there.
But in spite of one of the strongest testimonies on earth, he was not attending church.

Speaking of  HIS Testimony, or the reason that the masses would jump to the assumption he converted me; let me expound on that in my brief and broken way:

Rick has survived stage IV renal cell carcinoma for 15 years, so far, after having been given 3 months to live.
He is the only survivor of an experimental treatment program of which the initial numbers were 101.
He was given a Blessing.
He was healed.

I heard him speak his testimony daily for months. As one of his sons has stated, no one can listen to Rick bare his testimony and NOT believe.

Within me, I kept a part of his testimony that only he and I were aware of. I had felt his struggles with the commandments. I had been one of the very tools that Satan used against him.

As my pre-baptismal lessons began, I began to comprehend just who I had been to him. I started to feel the pain of repentance and my contrition was immense, as the sins I had committed against the friend I loved with all my heart became apparent to me. My eyes were being opened, and I was disgusted what I beheld.

I apologized to him, and to his father. I wanted to apologize to each of his children for even the way in which I had looked at him. I just hadn't understood before this spring. Before I studied the commandments for myself, I didn't know just how wrong I had been.

He didn't ever steer me away from the church. In fact, when I went out to explore the country, he told me if ever I needed anything I could always go to The Church. But I fought against it. At that time, it was his "religion" that had kept us from being a couple.

In my immature mind, God had told me "no", and I was a rebellious child screaming "WHY NOT?!?!?!" and kicking and screaming. It took me a few years to calm down from that tantrum and listen to what God was trying to tell me.

As I traveled the country, I received many reminders of the church. I have told the story of Temples at every "wrong turn" as being "stalked by Christ". He was reminding me that He would be there when I was ready. And He was.

Through the last three years, Rick was there for me as well. Through texts and calls and late-night talks, he would tell me stories of his and his pioneer ancestors that inspired my further trust in God.

I now understand that he was sharing his ancestors' testimonies.
Those testimonies of Zera Pulsipher, and that of Clarance Larsen, both Seventies. He was sharing that he understood God.

But Rick remained away from the church, as I took the covenant of Baptism.

The day I was confirmed as a member of The Church, we talked  on the phone for the first time in weeks. As I progressed in my spiritual journey, in my scripture reading as well as my involvement in The Church; our communication grew more frequent once again.

This culminated in our being in a ward meetinghouse together last week. Where, among a few gathered sisters and members of the Brethren, I heard the man I call my best friend call me his lifeline and share his testimony of his return to The Church.

I thank God for the  friendship of this man I can now call Brother Larsen.

Only God understands the complicated people that we all are, and  to each of us He grants us the guides we need and those we can help.
I thank God for every one of the gifts He has granted upon me.  Some of those have been delivered through my best friend, Richard, and the Larsen family.

(note: this was written and published with Brother Larsen's permission)

Holy High-Five, Jesus!!!!

I started to feel like I wasn't saying "thank you" enough to God, and to Christ, for the atonement.

Also for the Gift of the Holy Spirit. I just wanted to feel like saying "THANKS!" as much as I felt thankful.

So, I decided to begin "high-five-ing" towards Christ.

I know it is silly, but it is my way of saying "Thank You, Jesus for all of the incredible blessings that my life has been graced with since my baptism."

So, in the phrasing borrowed from the comics, but in full gratitude and love for my Savior; "Holy high-five, Jesus!!!"

I will continue to raise my hand, in a thank you, I may say it out loud, or I may just silently reach, in gratitude for my savior's love. It all means the same.

His Holy Love and Lighte to ALL! Praise God of Israel! Praise His Holy Son!!! Holy high-five to all!!! :)

Faith in the Small, Still, yet Firm, Voice

When the world around me, is saying one thing, yet that small voice inside says another, it sometimes seems difficult to choose the right.  
Even in small things.

I have prayed to my Heavenly Father to illuminate the my path a bit brighter; I acknowledge that it has taken me quite a long time to find the Light that is Christ and my church home, and I feel the need to ask for a bit more enlightenment in regards to the choices He knows are right for me. That doesn't stop me from hearing the world.

So, when the voices of even the most pure at heart conflict with that small, still voice that is that of the Holy Spirit; it is time for me to turn off the world. "Airplane mode" for me, not just my phone. Taking the time to be quiet and ponder. Contemplate. Listen to and for, the Holy Spirit.

I recently watched several General Conference talks about just that: the need to take time to ponder.
Quietly. I find joy and God's touch in the quiet.
My favorite places to ponder, are in the world that He created. The least touched by man's hand, the better. For me, whether they be the Olympics, the Cascades or the Rockies; the mountains of the world are where I feel God's energy to the greatest extent.

My next favorite place to do it, is while driving. Something I am very thankful to have started to do once again. I missed it. I didn't realize how much.
Having seen so much of the country in the past couple of years; for me it is so easy to see God's hand in it all. It is unimaginable for me that some can not see it. I feel sad for them.

The Holy Spirit is there to guide us in EVERYTHING we do.

Holding the hand of our Heavenly Big Brother, Christ; we CAN stand up to any pressure. If we have FAITH. Faith that His hand is and will ALWAYS be there for us to hold.

A friend of mine recently shared with me that for most people, faith is something they strive for, but don't really feel.
My reaction was immediate and profound: Complete and utter sadness. Grief.

But WHY?!?! Don't they see?!

Don't they know that EVERYTHING good is God?! Don't they realize that the atonement is for them?!

I have been guilty of using the euphamism "the Universe" in the past, when I meant God. No matter what words I used, I could see a greater power.

I have been given the blessing of seeing the world through a new set of eyes. I am able to not only look back and see how God has watched over me all my life; but to also see His hand in every moment I am currently living.
When I catch a hold, when I have lost grip; when I put something in a strange place, just where I would need it next; the Holy Spirit is there.
God's own guide.
A gift to me from Him.
How great is His love?!

My journeys these last few years have truly shown me evidence of the Living God. Every time that I "let go" and completely invested my time and my energy "in the moment"; God showed me why I was there.

Nothing is an accident. There are no coincidences. It is ALL part of the plan. Yes, we have our free agency to choose; but that doesn't negate the fact THAT was foretold as well. As were EVERY choice that you and I were and are destine to make. It is this belief that has led me to the faith that I have.

I believe that Jesus Christ is the Only Begotten Son, that God, the Father sent Him here to show us the way and the truth and the light of life.
I believe that the Holy Spirit is the gift I have received through God to guide me in my each and every decision that I make.
I have faith that everything will happen exactly when and where it is meant to happen.

We ALL have our paths. Not one is the same.  That is why God has given us each the posibility of having our own personal guide through the darkness we can find on this side of the veil. Our own personal lighthouse.

I think of the Holy Spirit as my own personal lighthouse that shows me the right where ever I am. When I am not obeying God's commandments, a dark fog surrounds that light, making it difficult to make out. When I follow the commandments and make and keep new covenants with God, the light becomes brighter and brighter. It illuminates my path.

That was my prayer. I prayed to my Heavenly Father that the path that I should take would henceforth be illuminated a bit brighter, since it has been difficult in the past for me to see, or choose the right that I did see. He has answered my prayers in abundance!


I have experienced many trials in my life; I know that my trials won't be over until my time on this side is done. But I have faith that the Holy Spirit is there to guide me.
All I have to do, is what I am told. Keep God's commandments. Pray for guidance when I lack the knowledge. Keep reading The Gospels of Christ daily. Remember where the true light comes from.

Have FAITH; He is there to guide and direct us.

Post General Conference Ramblings

I find it funny that some people have said that the Latter-Day Saints are like a cult. I find humor because of the fact that although when i had the change of heart, I had a desire to judge others and isolate myself more from those not in the church.
I was counseled by the Lord, and lead to scripture and church teachings that taught me that is against the church's teachings.

In fact; to love ALL is the mandate.

To strive to become Christ-like in ALL actions, but especially to love thy neighbor as He loves us. We are ALL children of God. We are ALL Christ's siblings.

Christ is the ONLY perfect child. The rest of us are sinners. We are imperfect. We are mortals. But we can strive to be worthy of the title of "saint." We can ALWAYS listen to that small, quiet voice, the guidance we are granted by our keeping our covenants. We can choose the right, walk in the light and bring that light to EACH and EVERY being that we touch in our lives.

I love having the opportunity to show God with every choice I make; that I am proud to be His daughter.  Nothing else, really matters.

This weekend, as I listened to President Monson, The Prophet, speak at the General Conference; I was moved to tears on many occasions.
I know that he is the living prophet. Not that I doubted, but I know every time that I have seen him. He has the connection. The "force" is with him.

The women of the church move me with their words. The story of the carpet scripture, touched my heart in many more ways than I can express.
The talks about virtue and redemption hit home.
As I spoke with friends who watched it, we shared how we each felt the answers to our prayers, as if those talking were answering each of our questions; no matter how different the questions. That is the magic of the Lord. He knows. He KNOWS how to touch each and every one of us.

Full of the white light of the holy spirit tonight. It was a glorious general conference.
I wish His holy love and light to all. It is a blessing to be alive and full of God's glory.

How Did I Get Here: My Journey to the Church

I first visited a Mormon Church in Shelton when I was a small child. One of my mom's friends was Mormon, and was watching my brother and me on a weekend and we attended church with her and her family.

What do I remember about it? Not much, only that I had to have a long dress (I wore my Easter dress) and I ended up committing a horrid sin later that day on the way home (I used profanity) and my bottom got a beating. I was about 7 or 8 years old.

The next time the Latter Day Saints crossed my path, it was in the form of my best friend. I met him a bit over three years ago. His family had been in the church for many generations. He, himself had held many positions within the church, but his immediate family had drifted away from the church for various reasons.

When I met my twin granddaughters in July of 2010, just days before their second birthday, I was also given the information that their maternal grandmother, Mary, and their mother were members of the church.

My granddaughters were born into the church. It was a realization of an obligation on my part, but it took me another two and a half years to really recognize it. Their father, my son, had never been a part of their life, and it was for the best.  However, I intended to be a part of their life as much as I possibly could.

 

As I traveled across the country and back, visiting friends and learning about myself and my country as well as the people in this world; the church reminded me it was waiting for me. A "wrong turn" put me in front of the Twin Falls, Idaho Temple on such a gorgeous day while I was beginning a trip across the country in 2011, that I felt compelled to take numerous postcard-quality photos of it.



Then, on my way back to Washington in 2012, during a rather difficult part of a depressive state, I saw the Angel Moroni peaking above a hill next to the northbound freeway just north of Independence, Missouri and I pulled over and cried, having known the stories about the Mormon persecution in Missouri. It felt like a redeeming; that they made it back, and were NOT hiding. It was a wonderful feeling.

When I began reading about women motorcycle riders (riding is one of my great loves), I read a book called "Riding in the Shadows of Saints: A Woman's Story of Motorcycling the Mormon Trail" by Jana Richman and in it I learned about much of the history of the Mormon Trail as well as her journey away from the church.

I ended up renting a room from my best friend's sister's family after a horrid event in my life early this year, and I was interested in going to church with them. They were attending an LDS church. They invited me to go along, but every time I was getting ready to join them, the house ended up in upheaval and I shrunk back from the chaos, submitting to the unseen forces that were attempting to keep me away from the church.

When I ended up in a place by myself. I was gifted with time to pray and consider. I began researching the life of Emma Hale Smith, Joseph Smith's wife. Being a woman; I am drawn to the women. Especially the righteous and reverent moms. Their struggles pull at my heart. When I heard that she buried her sixth child on a February 7th, I cried tears upon tears; that is my daughter's birthday.

After considering her story, as well as the copy of of the Book of Mormon that I had downloaded, I prayed about which church is the true church. I knew that Emma had left the LDS Church and had been part of another church altogether.

I investigated, and found that the church that she spun off of the Mormon church, did, in fact, have a branch nearby. And they used the Book of Mormon still, as well. This confused the matter, for me. So, I was left to pray on the matter.

And pray I did. I called out to our Lord on my cold wooden floor of the attic room I was camping in. Lord PLEASE show me the way and the TRUTH!!!

I was answered. VERY directly.

You belong in the True Church. The True Church is that which your granddaughters are already a part of. Follow them so that you may one day lead them. Their very salvation depends on your choices.

Although I have felt the hand of the Holy Spirit in my life all my days, NEVER have I been directed and led so loudly.

I received another message that morning in that cold attic, as I knelt on the wooden floor:
If you do not convert and repent, you will no longer have the gracious guidance that the Holy Spirit has granted you thus far.

WHAT?!?!?!  NO more quiet voice to guide me?!?!?! I was terrified to loose my connection to Christ.

When I got up from my prayers; I immediately called Mary (my granddaughter's other grandma) and asked her if she could have missionaries from her church get me into contact with the right people so that I could learn more about the church that I was being called to, by the Holy Ghost, Himself.

You see, I had been calling every number that I could find on the Internet in my area for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, but there was no answer and no machine to leave a message; every number I called just kept ringing. UNTIL I prayed, and called Mary. I wasn't meant to make this change alone.

Mary was overjoyed at learning about my personal revelation. I felt a bond with her that I had never previously felt. Sisters in Christ, we were to become very soon.

That afternoon, I was visited by two wonderful and joy-filled sister missionaries. They brought me my own Book of Mormon, my first. Within a week, they had me on the path to baptism. My lessons became more frequent as my baptism neared, and with each lesson I became more excited.

It is almost embarrassing how much joy I have gotten from reading the scriptures. I literally feel euphoric when studying scriptures, both ancient and modern.

I keep a very detailed journal of my personal experiences, and soon I will share more from my spiritual journey as well, but for brevity's sake, I will say that the ENTIRE experience has been more enlightening that I EVER imagined!!!

My baptism was on March 23rd, and I was so thrilled to be confirmed as a member of my ward on the 24th.

The photo I am attaching is the Sister Missionaries with me at my baptism. I will always love these wonderful young women who have given me the most loving welcome to the true church that I could EVER imagine.
Not only did they begin my learning of the scriptures, with the Lord's guidance, they introduced me to one of the most wonderful friends I could ever imagine having.

Thanks to all of my new church family, as well as my friends and family who have been by my side during this confusing part of my transformation (I have keep many things "close to my vest" during this time).

Sending the white lighte of the Holy Spirit to all, so that perhaps some may also read, and know for themselves that The Book of Mormon is another Testament of Jesus Christ. I have prayed to know the truth, and I was told that I am on the true path of righteousness. I invite all to join me on that path. 

Baptism of the Dead

So, here is a confession: I was hesitant to share this particular blog on my Facebook pages due to the fact that I know that the "Baptism of the Dead" practice in my church has been known to be a controversial topic amongst those not of the church.

So, in true "ME" fashion, I decided to pray and write about my feelings on the matter. So, without further adieu:

What are "Baptisms of the Dead" to me?

The way my little brain understands it....it's as if Christ, himself would walk into the waiting room of hell and point at your ancestor and say, "Hey, you there, one of your descendants put in a good word for you, would you like to come with me?"

They still have FREE use of their agency (freedom of choice). But Christ is giving them a "second chance" via a descendant who has baptized them in the Temple.

Here are a couple of personal examples for me:

1. My grandfather: He was a Christian but who after a severe head injury succumbed to suicide.

I feel his mother and wife, two Margaret Slightes, begging him to come to heaven.
Why wouldn't I do anything and everything in MY power to help him?

2. My father: a loud atheist all of my life.

He succumbed to evil in the form of taking his own life, after having lived a life so sinful that some would call him a demon himself.

His mother and grandparents know his soul was tragically injured by his father's untimely death and all of the circumstances surrounding it. He was also profoundly effected as a child by the abuse by a step-father.
His abuse of me and my brother has left me in a position where forgiveness is difficult.

In his case, IF I were to submit his name to the Temple for baptism of the dead, to me it would be a signal that *I* have forgiven him for his horrendous sins against me, and I am asking God to do the same.

Past that; if Jesus allows him a second chance to change on the other side of the veil, who am I to say no?

Just sayin.