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. 

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/

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

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!

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.

Maggie and the Missionaries

(subtitle)  "Those Tender Kind Souls Who Would Have LIKED Preached His Gospel to Me and Those I Finally Listened To"

I have rarely admitted to anyone the long road it has taken me to get to a point where I invited missionaries into a house in which I resided.

In fact, I don't believe I ever did; until the day I personally ASKED them to come to my current location.

Before being introduced to the idea of The Church, (then it took me another 3 years to soften my heart towards the Book of Mormon, and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints), I rarely even opened my door when tracking pairs came knocking.
When I did, I was MUCH less than polite, let alone hospitable.

If anyone had told me then, that I would now delight in the company of Missionaries, being overjoyed when I had the opportunity to invite them to join me for a meal; I would have called them a liar. Not a chance!!

I never listened long enough to hear their messages, until it was the right time for me. AND the right Missionaries.

During the past three years, I have often stayed in the homes of both friends who were inactive and some who were active members of The Church. On many occasions they have invited Missionaries to visit while I was present.
Even in the month before my baptism, a couple of weeks before I downloaded the Book of Mormon and began reading it; when the Elders appeared at the door, I ran to my room and hid.


I had no idea why. But God KNOWS His children. He knew me better than I knew myself.

After 46 years of being treated in a certain way by the male gender, and having had NO exposure to righteous priesthood holders; I didn't have a clue as to what to feel around them. In my mind men were all the same. I was so wrong.

Sisters Johnson
& Lloyd

There is no such thing as coincidence, happenstance or kismet. Call it "fate" or by any other name you wish; but it is ALL part of God's Divine Plan. Everything.

When I experienced my personal revelation on 6 March 2013, and requested that Missionaries be sent to my home to teach me; I didn't even KNOW Sister Missionaries EXISTED!!!!


Before I met Sisters Lloyd & Johnson, I hadn't even formulated the idea that Sisters COULD be Missionaries. I had never seen any, it had never even crossed my mind. "Strangely enough" (#HolyHighFive!), my area had very recently been assigned their first Sister Missionary pair!

When the Sisters placed my first "hard copy" of The Book of Mormon into my hands; I felt my spiritual eyes open.
In their presence I was finally able to relax and feel the Comforter, The Holy Spirit, and KNOW what that feeling WAS!!!  I wanted Sisters Johnson and Lloyd to tarry forever.

The Sisters guided my fellowship and friendships with prayer and listening to promptings of the Holy Spirit. That day they guided my tour through the Ward Meeting House. I felt at home for the first time in my life in the company of Sisters.

When they asked me about baptism (it felt like forever, but it was probably only days after they met me); I was over-anxious. They mentioned the 30th of March, and I reluctantly agreed. In retrospect, they probably thought I was being hesitant, but I wanted it to happen sooner. I just knew that wasn't my baptismal date.

Sure enough, a few days later, they asked me if I wanted to get baptized a week sooner; on the 23rd. I was elated, and agreed. God had heard my unstated prayer.

When my lessons came to the daily preparation for my baptism, I never wanted them to end. Much the same way I felt about my new member lessons, in the home of a wonderful Ward Missionary family; I felt the Spirit so strongly I never wanted the lessons to be over.

It is wonderful, now, to be in the presence of returned, current and future Missionaries. I now delight in the Light of the Holy Spirit that surrounds them.

Some fun after
a service project

Thanks to a many pairs of Sisters & Elders who have been VERY instructive and loving, I am learning about Missionaries. Sisters Lloyd & Johnson have moved on to other areas, and I had the blessing to meet Sisters Frandsen and Langi as well as many others from neighboring areas. They are all wonderful young men and women.  I love each and every one of the Missionaries.

I feel the excitement of the Second Coming when I am around them.

With the Missionaries, I feel the JOY of knowledge; The GLORY of the Testimony of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and our Heavenly Father, God!!!

I anxiously await a time, in the future, when I might be graced with the opportunity to serve a mission.

Minding Our Words and Dress

Tears filled my eyes as I pondered the condition of my remaining mismatched compression stockings, combined with my current temporal situation. I wondered if the lady member in the Family History Center had any idea the effect that she had upon me.

I am so incredibly thankful for the divinely-inspired friendships of my own ward family. None of the women in my ward have EVER caused me to feel the way I felt that day.

I was once again accompanying my friend on her volunteering day at the FHC to use that opportunity to research my own family; when as an answer to a prayer I had just started, brought me to assist this Lady on the computer. While we awaited the computer's piece of the task at hand (populating her family tree after I entered her information), she shared with me her views on the current state of the dress of the women of the church.

Most of her words went in one ear and out the other; since there have been a few occasions even in my own ward, where my eyebrows have been raised.
When she started in on bare legs, she got my attention. Even with the longest of skirts, she stated, there is NO reason they cant go to the effort of at least putting on knee high nylon stockings to come to church.

My skirt was long, and there were members in the FHC that day even wearing jeans; but my bare legs felt conspicuous, and I tucked them further under the chair. It hurt my heart that she thought I didn't care how I presented myself.

In the past two months since my baptism, I have not shared my temporal situation with many people other than very close friends and members assisting me with the practicalities of becoming one of the "covenant people". I have had generous Sisters hand down skirts when I owned none. I have been on the receiving end of much generosity within my ward.

On Saturday night as I laid out my church clothes, as I pondered what she had shared with me the state of my own remaining support hose had me in tears. Then I came to a realization.

If my faith was less than it is, and I had not been gifted with divine friendships within my WONDERFUL ward family; I could EASILY been intimidated into a point that I didn't feel my dressing abilities were worthy of being included in Sacrament Service.

Twice now I have attended the Seattle Temple to perform baptisms for the dead of my family. With her words ringing in my ears, I humbly remembered that I had worn nylons neither time. My clumsiness due to my disabilities causes the practicalities of putting them on in a stall, nearly impossible. Having a broken thumb makes dressing difficult enough without adding the complication of attempting not to snag a nylon.

I am VERY cognizant of presenting myself in the appropriate manner. To this end, I have hand-printed a piece of paper above the mirror I use. When I have my own home, I will put a mirror by the door with this on a wooden sign above it saying:

"If you were to meet Jesus Christ on the street today, would you feel happy with how you look?

NO? Turn around and change! :)"

God is the ONLY one I need to please. Never once have I been told in answer to a prayer that I need to put nylons on for Him to love me!

I do know that "we are all human". I know The Church and the restored gospel are true. Personally, I will make sure from now on that I mind how I approach others, mindful that we are ALL God's children, lest ANYONE be caused to feel by MY words, how I felt after HER words.

Author's note: I was compelled to read this in my Relief Society meeting shortly after I had posted it. To my surprise, after the meeting was concluded, when I walked out of the meeting room, I noticed the Lady who had made those comments, awaiting her ward's service which is held in the same building as mine, at a different time.
We have exchanged many pleasant conversations about family history, and I doubt she even remembers the comments about clothing. The important lesson for me, was that I did, and it causes me to be mindful about what I say to others, daily.
I wasn't wearing nylons that day either. :)

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.

My Spiritual Journey

(originally posted on Slightely Maggie on 13 Mar 2013)

This is about me. Well, many things I write, and have written, have been about me. About my journey though this life. This is probably the most intimate glimpse I have ever given anyone.

I am giving it to anyone who wants to know.

For those who want to know why, Margaret Ellen Slighte, came to the decision to embrace The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as her "church home."

I'm forty six years old.

I have tasted of any sin I may have desired, and many I never thought I could even stomach.

I am done. Done with sin. Done with living in any manner that is disrespectful to myself, my relationship with Jesus Christ, or that of God, the Father.

I desire to begin to live in a righteous manner. In a manner which is respectful of the relationship of my soul with the Godhead. With Christ, God, and the Holy Spirit, which I pray that I will be able to acknowledge how each have touched my life in every moment.

When do I remember my relationship with God, and Christ, beginning? What is my first "spiritual memory?" (What is YOURS? What do YOU remember?)

When I lived in Shelton (the first time), after my parent's divorce, my mother sent me to Sunday School against my father's wishes (he was an atheist, a LOUD one). I believe I was six or seven years old when this happened.
 

Margaret Ellen Slighte
1974

During one of the Sunday School lessons, we were singing the song "This Little Light of Mine" ( LIGHTE :) ) and I immediately felt a warm sunny feeling, but much brighter, around my "soul". It was my first conscious feeling of having a "soul". I knew there was a Christ. I also knew there were two other separate energies I felt: One of God, the Father as well as The Holy Spirit.

I have always known that we were all connected. I have always known that "good" or "holy" deeds brought more reward to my soul, than did "selfish" or "hedonistic" deeds.

During these nearly four years since the explosive destruction of my family, and my marriage on Father's Day 2009, I continued my disastrous and self-destructive behavior in a manner that was not only disrespectful to myself, it was also extremely public.

I have had times that the Lord has given me a glimpse of His comfort and glory. My travels across the country have been blessed with not only support of my friends, but also my Savior. My prayers have not gone unanswered. I have been given many gifts. I received them not with the grace I could, and should have.

Having displayed my sins so publicly, and with less than shameful appearances; I prayed whether, as part of my transformation, I should let go of any public exposure (social media). My prayers were answered that my contrition and apologies; my guilt and repentance be as public as I was with my sinful behavior.
Once my period of contrition is over, I will pray and re-evaluate which sites and accounts to retain, and which to discontinue.

When I speak of my sins, I learned the hard way that there is an adversary.

Evilhas worked it's way into my family since I was a very small child.

I have had agents of evil, and when I say evil, I mean the darkest of the dark, at work within my family for generations.

From the time my father's father submitted to the demons that haunted him, and ended his own life; our family has been haunted by evil.

My own father committed suicide around my birthday in 1999, 15 years after I last saw him. The abuse I sustained at his hands, as a small child can only be termed as evil. Then, as a young teenager, he made certain he instilled his lack of morality into my ideas. His constant guidance was down the wrong path. When I was becoming a mother, I KNEW I needed to distance myself from him.  I knew enough to keep my children from that piece of evil in my life. Unfortunately, I did not give them the gift of a righteous home to be raised in. For this I am very sorry.

In the last year, I discovered that the adversary will tempt us with that which we THINK we desire the most when we are at our lowest.

My teenage nephew committed suicide last summer, shortly thereafter I again went astray from a righteous path. I sought love and comfort from the evil that danced in front of me and begged me to join it.

I was to receive what I thought I desired, and instead of joy and elation that would be with truth and love, I felt instead the true stink and disgust of the sin, as a layer of scum, upon my soul.

Hedonism: self-love. I believe that we are divine. In the way that our Creator would not create anything LESS than divine. How I have treated myself and others around me has been so much less than divine.

The commandments are CLEAR, however, thou shall not worship anyone or anything except the one TRUE God. It may feel good for a little while, but the scum upon my soul is deep now.
I am in need of a baptism, a TRUE baptism and to exercise my own agency to choose righteous behavior which is respectful of myself and my relationship with Christ, and His Father, our Creator 

Throughout my life, whatever evils that I endured, and enjoyed; I KNEW right from wrong. 
I felt shame and disgust at some of my own behavior. What I DIDN'T understand, was how to change. I didn't respect myself enough, I didn't honor that I was a daughter of God.
Most of my life I allowed myself to be used in any way that the males around me desired to use me. I was disposable, right? WRONG.
I am a daughter of God. I deserve to begin to honor that.

My daughter, and my sons and my granddaughters and grandson deserve to be honored by me being a person who respects herself and who does her best to be righteous and respectful of our Father in Heaven.

I will continue to grow, and to learn, on my spiritual journey. I will expand and expound upon this, my journal of my relationship with my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. 

I invite anyone interested to do as I did, and look up the Book of Mormon, another Testament of Jesus Christ. It's online. Read it. Pray. Decide for yourself. I did.

Taking Maggie to the Temple

In the very few days since my baptism and gift of the Holy Ghost (it's only Wednesday, and this was last weekend) I have been covered in blessings.

During a visit to the Family History Center on Tuesday, I was blessed beyond measure, and those blessings have continued.

My paternal grandmother:
Margaret Florence Clara Foley Slighte McGhee King

I had intended to take "the three Margarets" to the temple with me (both of my grandmothers and my paternal great-grandmother, my Nana, are named Margaret) when I heard about the "newbie temple trip" coming up towards the end of April.

It was as if Nana stepped out of the veil, and said, don't forget my George. He loves God as much as I do!

Now I know why I heard that. I had contacted a distant cousin by email who had some information about our branch of the family listed on her own family tree. When she returned my email, she brought with her stories that I never imagined.

1915 the Slighte boys
Thomas, Ray & baby George

Including the stories of after my grandfather, George's death, how his brothers and others in the family and in their community were extremely mean spirited to both his mother and widow (the Margarets) who continued to love and mourn for George.


George was the baby of the family. Margaret Thornhill Slighte (nee Walsh)'s baby boy. The youngest of three living boys, four in total. One having been lost in infancy to illness.

Margaret Thornhill Slighte (nee Walsh)
and George Ronald Slighte
1915

On April 1st is Nana's birthday. She was born in 1879. She lived until 1972. While in my mother's attic, I have come across many many note cards that were sent by "Nana Slighte" (I NOW understand she was known as Maggie Slighte), to me and my parents while I was a baby. She was very very anxious to see and meet me when I was born.

Stories are coming to me now, from a distant cousin through emails. I will soon know more about Maggie Slighte (1879-1974). She loved my grandfather. She loved her family. And I know she loved me.  Her faith in our Lord was deep.

Unknown to me, I began going by the same nickname she used, in 2010. Pretty cool.  However, recently, due to me hearing that my mother, who named me Margaret Ellen after her mother (who went by "Ellen"), that she hates the nickname "Maggie", I reneged and began introducing myself as Margaret.

The funny part? Even my mother has a difficult time calling me the name she named me. I have also had a difficulty "renaming" my "self-talk"... falling into calling myself "Maggie" on many occasions.

This time, it is intentional:  Maggie Slighte will take Maggie Slighte to the temple.
I will be taking George's name to the Temple as well. Don't worry, Nana, I won't forget your baby boy. 

George R. Slighte, Margaret F.C. Slighte (nee Foley), Margaret T. Slighte (nee Walsh), and Thomas A. Slighte
(from left to right)

Slightely Mormon

What can I say? I enjoy making puns from my last name!

But here is a bit of an explanation for those who would like one: this blog will be about my journey through the scriptures and my transformation to the righteous person, the Latter-Day Saint I long to be.

This is "SLIGHTE-ly" as in MY journey...not "slightly" as in "kinda" or "just a bit"...  
Everything I do, I do "SLIGHTE-ly".  

It has involved a lot of change on my part, so far, even before my baptism last Saturday, and receiving the Gift of the Holy Spirit on Sunday.
It is only Wednesday, and I have felt so many blessings through and through.

This blog is where I will publish my testimonies. Those stories that I would like to share with all about my spiritual journey and the manner in which it happened.

Stay tuned...it has been incredible thus far (on this side), I can only imagine what is ahead!

His Holy Love and Lighte to ALL!!!