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.

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/

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.

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.

But WHY the "Mormon Church"

I have heard people say that they understand my faith in God, but not my decision to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. They don't understand why I chose to be a Mormon.
A Latter-Day Saint.

First, I don't believe it was a choice. Even an ex thought I had already been a confirmed member of The Church six months before I had even read the Book of Mormon!

I have always been on this path. God chose me. It just took me 46 years to open my eyes.

I joke about having been "stalked by Christ", or more appropriately, by His Church. In my journeys across the country, I found myself stopping and pondering God in front of temples I had no clue even existed before happening upon them.

Books about the Mormon Trail fascinated me. A people who displayed their faith. And what faith it was, and is.

There are a few facts that I want to share with others, about some of my beliefs that finally found their home:

• The fact that Jesus Christ and God are separate, immortal beings and the Holy Ghost is a separate spirit entity.  
• That God did not cease communicating with us through prophets in the time of the bible. 
• We have a living prophet that receives revelation for the church in these times; his name is Thomas S. Monson.
• We have the right and the obligation to ask for personal revelation in prayer and to listen to the small still voice that is the Holy Spirit. 

I finished reading the Book of Mormon for the first time (just a read-through, I plan to go back and study it diligently after I finish the rest of the Standard Works) on April 30. I believe it to be another Testament of Jesus Christ. I prayed, and was impressed with the knowledge that it is.


The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is the only church that has ever felt like home. My children and my mother know how long I have searched for the truth. Many of my closest friends have seen my search as well.

I am finally at home.

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.