SIXTEEN

“My mom grew up in the church, but she struggled with her testimony and wasn’t super active. So, when she married my dad, who wasn’t a member, it was easy for her to fall away. When she had me and my two younger sisters, she tried to take us to church. I vaguely remember sitting in a room with a bunch of other kids and seeing a picture of Jesus Christ. My dad complained that, since his only day off work was Sunday, church stood in the way of his quality time with his family. He fought my mom about it and convinced her to stop taking us; and that was that.

I remember that we weren’t allowed to open the door for anyone when I was little. If we weren’t expecting anyone and someone came knocking on our door, the rule was we had to turn the TV down, be quiet, and pretend we weren’t home. One time when this happened, I was up in my room. The doorbell rang and I looked out my bedroom window, down at the front porch to see who it was. I saw two young men, dressed up in nice suits, and I remember wondering who they were as they turned and walked away. Part of me wished they would come back. Just seeing them stirred a curiosity in me that I didn’t understand.

Years later, when I was eleven, my parents began a long and hard divorce process. There was a lot of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse. My dad moved out and it was just us four girls. I remember there was a knock at the door one day. After years of ignoring them, I hardly noticed and I figured we would go about our normal routine as we always have. My mom even turned the TV down at first, but then she stopped. She stood up, turned the TV off, and went to answer the door. I followed, curious to see who it was. My mom opened the door and there stood two young men, each dressed up in a white shirt and tie. They both grinned from ear to ear as my mom invited them in and called my sisters over to meet them too. They seemed so familiar to me; maybe not the boys themselves, but how I felt seeing them… I was curious and there was something else I felt that I couldn’t explain. All I knew is that I wanted to figure it out.For the next two months, the missionaries visited our home often and taught me and my sisters about God and His wonderful plan for us, prayer and reading the scriptures, and many other things. I may not remember every detail of what they taught or said, but I remember how I felt. I felt so sure and at peace. I felt like I had a puzzle that I was finding missing pieces to, and I didn’t even realize they were missing in the first place! Everything they said seemed to fall into place and make so much sense! I was starting to figure out that the familiar feeling I had seeing the missionaries was the Holy Ghost. I loved this feeling and I never wanted it to leave.We decided that, once my youngest sister turned eight, we all wanted to be baptized. We each picked our favorite missionary to baptize us. Mine was an artist and drew pictures to help us understand Repentance and the Plan of Salvation.

All three of us were baptized on August 25th of 2012.

So here I am, eight and a half years later, serving in the Missouri Indepence Mission! I am so grateful for everything that got me here, even the hard things. I often think back at that summer as the hardest summer of my life. Yet, that same summer, I was also able to make the most life changing, wonderful decision to begin on the path towards Christ. Everyday walking down this path of personal conversion, I strive to grow closer to Him and to know Him better. It’s a lifelong journey, and I am so grateful to have found this path to Him.”