Many times in my life I have looked back with gratitude for the love Heavenly Father and His son, Jesus Christ have for us. I have a testimony that came from humble beginnings. My father and mother became members of the church as teenagers and their testimony was small but deep. As a mother with small children, my mom was given a calling to be in the nursery during the sacrament meeting (yeah, they did that back then). Over a short period of time, Mom felt that she was not being spiritually fed, and was babysitting while others got to hear the message. She began to stay home on Sunday and before long we were only going to church on Easter and Christmas. Small decisions can have a big impact.
My mom taught me to pray from a very young age. We would kneel at the side of my bed every night and mom would listen to me say my prayers. Those are precious memories for me. Over time I realized that I wanted to go to Church. I would include in my personal prayers a plea that Heavenly Father would help my parents take us to church.
The answer came as a dedicated Primary President came by our house most Wednesday nights to pick us up for Primary. Although my two brothers and I did not get the opportunity to go very often, (the Primary president would forget, or my mom would call her and cancel), when we did go, I learned to sing a few primary songs that I tried very hard to keep in my head. When she was released, we stopped going altogether but that didn’t keep me from hoping and praying.
I remember when I was 12 my family and I went to church on Easter. My Sunday School teacher was teaching us about a Book of Mormon prophet named Alma. She stated that since we had all been baptized, we have made certain covenants. I raised my hand and told her that I had not been baptized. She said, “Sure you have.” I quietly told her again that I had not been baptized. She pulled out a piece of paper, wrote something on it, and continued with her lesson. A few weeks later the missionaries, Elder Green and Elder Brewer, became frequent visitors and soon my brothers and I were baptized.
The feeling of knowing I was doing what was right was overwhelming. When the missionaries were in our home, there was a special feeling. I liked being around them. The Spirit had touched my heart and I wanted to feel that clean and pure all the time. Unfortunately, after my brothers and I were baptized, our family quit going to church again.
When I was 13 years old, I saw a set of missionaries walking down my street. I chased them down and invited them inside for some lemonade. They soon learned that we were an inactive family and made frequent stops at our house. The Young Women’s President was made my mom’s visiting teacher at the same time. She and my mom became really good friends, and although she lived about 30 minutes away from our house, she began to come to pick me up and take me to Young Women’s on Tuesday nights. She became someone who loved me just the way I was and helped me to grow closer to the Lord. She encouraged me to not be selfish or judgmental. She had great patience and was kind.
As I became older and more rebellious, she wrote me a letter that touched my heart. She shared with me how much she loved me, but more importantly how much Heavenly Father loved me. She told me I was special and had been given many talents. She also told me that I could not learn everything Heavenly Father needed me to learn by not going to church every Sunday. I remember I cried when I read the letter. I knew she was right. I needed to go to church every Sunday, not just when I felt like it. I made the decision right then to go every Sunday, and with her help, I did.
The nearest temple to my home was the Washington D.C. temple which was a 12-hour drive. My YW President had arranged with my parents for me to go with our ward on a 3-day trip to do baptisms for the dead. The trip cost $40 which was a lot of money for my family. I understood the privilege I was given and was not prepared for the blessings I would receive from going to the temple. My mom had worked on genealogy and prepared my grandmother and grandfather’s names to be taken to the temple that day. My testimony grew the minute I walked into the foyer of the temple. The feeling I had every time with the missionaries was there… but multiplied. I felt like I could stop breathing and continue to live. I felt like I had found peace and love, and I was home. When I entered the baptismal font, I felt my grandmother’s loving arms around me, thanking me. Heaven was so close, and I was so blessed. I will never forget that experience. It is permanently etched into my heart.
Over time, after I married, my parents decided to go back to church regularly. They said that there was something missing in the house when I left. Later mom became a Relief Society President and touched so many lives. She was the best missionary and often became the adopted mom to many missionaries who made our home their home-away-from-home. My dad has honored the priesthood and continues to serve all those in need. They are great examples to me.
So many blessings have come from my decision to pray, to go to church, to be baptized, to attend Church regularly, and to attend the temple. So many angels have been sent to me to help my testimony grow…my sweet Primary President, so many sets of missionaries, the Sunday School teacher, the Young Women’s President, and so many more who have nurtured me and helped my testimony grow. I am so grateful that they never gave up on me. They each were an answer to prayer and I am so blessed.