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.

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)

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.

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!!! :)

Baptism - a poem

Ironic
A dentist
dressed
in white

My own
jumpsuit
of white

White
underneath
covering
the shame I felt.

My granddaughters
and mother
stand at the font

Backwards
I am dunked
By the dentist

I feel my feet
out from
underneath

I do not panic
I feel secure
in his, and His
support

Up from the
font
I am brought

Clean of my sins
a new life
to begin

I smile at
my granddaughters
and know
it was as much
for me
as it was
for them

Family IS forever,
Amen.

What an Incredible Week

Wow. I can't believe that it's the night before Easter. One week ago I was baptized. One week ago tomorrow, I was confirmed as a member of the church.

I FEEL the spirit of resurrection SO deeply tonight. Filled with the Holy Spirit, I feel blessed beyond measure.

It has been less that a month since I contacted a sister so that she might assist me in getting in contact with a missionary. The rest, as they say, is history.

THEN I was BAPTIZED!!!

And life BEGAN anew!!

In no small way, my life began to be FLOODED with BLESSINGS!!!!

Tuesday, in the Family History Center with a Sister's guidance, I was able to make contact with a distant cousin who had a treasure trove of photos of a grandfather who's face I had never seen before. This followed a miraculous story of his heroism in World War II that I was able to uncover in the FHC and a grainy newspaper photo's discovery that day.

Subsequent messages exchanged with my cousin have proved very cathartic and healing for me and my family. Learning about the inequities visited upon my ancestors due to misunderstandings and judgements, and having been given the opportunity to set the record straight for my descendants is an INCREDIBLE blessing.

Then, on Wednesday, I was graced with the gift of my words and creativity. During my period of contrition and repentance before my baptism, I was told in prayer that my words would come back after I made that covenant; I had NO IDEA how much that would be true!
My poor fingers have gone to sleep tired each night since!

My words and questions and opinions have flowed incessantly, it seems. Within that time, I have posted several pieces on my personal "random thoughts" blog: Slightely Maggie.
I also designed this blog and have written and posted several pieces.

When I decided that perhaps some people may read this, and desire to give me feedback, but not necessarily publicly; I could not find a pre-designed button that worked. So, I encoded a bit of HTML.
The first code I have written in over ten years. I just hadn't felt inspired to do so; UNTIL NOW!

I had a wonderful time visiting with sisters I had known from my ward as well as others when my dear friend took me to my first singles dance on Friday. It was great to dance while maintaining my righteousness and celebrate new friendships. So many new friendships! Wonderful!

I cannot begin to thank God enough for the WONDERFUL women he has brought into my life in the past few weeks. Generous and kind with their words and deeds, I am so grateful to have them in my life.

Another blessing has been the GORGEOUS weather this week. I couldn't have imagined a more beautiful weekend to be celebrating Christ's Resurrection as a newly baptized woman! A daughter of God, a sister of Christ.

I thank God for all the many blessings of this week; both that I have mentioned and for every moment since last weekend. I am so incredibly grateful for everything.

It is AMAZING.
I pray that the blessings continue, in YOUR life as well as mine! Happy Easter!!!!

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. 

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!!!

Pre-Baptism Reflections & Ponderings

The following are few notes from the journals that I was keeping during my few weeks while I was taking lessons preparing for the covenants I would make in baptism. Most of them are random observations.

• Believing in Christ and walking around unbaptized is like trying to walk around without my long boot laces tied: I have to be extra careful of each little step, lest I trip myself up!
  
• Converts are like butterflies: They are just starting to break out of their chrysalis and need help understanding that they can fly on the wings of being a child of God.

• My goal is to strive to be Christ-like in my thoughts and deeds.
   
•  It did not escape my observation that as soon as Jesus Christ's name was no longer in my prayers, (in my life before the church); the poorer my physical and emotional health became.

• Carnal lust is a tool of Satan. True love is not sexual, but familial based. It is from God. It is righteous and pure. And it is forever.

I will be posting more from my conversion journals in the coming months. I am also working on a full story of my spiritual journey from the first time I remember feeling God, up through my conversion. A work that will remain in progress as long as I am on this side of the veil.


His Holy Love and Light to all.