I Belong.

I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and this is my story.  I've decided to share this on our blog.  This is in no way meant to sound any way, but genuine.  It's my story.  A story of what happened to me, how I felt, and how I feel today. Instead of calling it "My Conversion", I've decided to call it "I Belong".  (It could be much longer; I have tried to give the story enough bulk while leaving out unneeded details; However as I have just recounted years, I may decide to edit it to include more eventually)
                                                  
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I met my husband when I was only fifteen.  The night we met we were both intoxicated, and frankly I couldn't even remember what he looked like the next day.  It is shameful, but an important part of the story because it shows where we were in our lives.  We were both lacking spiritually.  Shortly after officially meeting the following night at a concert, we began dating.  A short summer relationship, or so we thought.  That summer turned out to be a great one in that I fell in love with a guy who turned out to be an amazing best friend, husband, and father to our children.


Michael began college and instead of ending our relationship, we decided to keep dating even though he would be hours away at school during the week.  As time went on, we of course were still doing the same shameful activities that we had been doing when we met, but it was becoming clear that that sort of lifestyle was damaging our relationship.  This realization became the turning point in our life and a decision was made to seek out the only road that would help our situation: church.  Neither of us were active in a particular church.  We had both grown up "church hopping". "Church hopping" is a term used in the south for those of us who would try out different churches and try to find one that would fit our needs, desires, and often personalities.  We tried several and through our experiences we realized that we did not know exactly what beliefs we believed in.  Within the baptist religion there are many different opinions and different churches that teach those different opinions under the same banner.  It is true that 3 baptists can be a in room together and each of them have a different belief on the same subject.  Example: one may believe in the trinity (God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit being One), the other may believe in separate beings, and the other may believe that we are just not meant to know for sure.  These sorts of ideas troubled both me and Michael.  We desired to understand the different beliefs and then come to know which of all those beliefs and denominations were true.  Studying those different  denominations, their beliefs, and origins became our next step in trying to decide for ourselves which was right.  After becoming more and more frustrated in spite of learning a lot about the religions found on every corner, we tried to figure out what we, ourselves, believed and then figure out where we belonged based on our own thoughts.  A particular conversation between Michael and I stands out in my mind.  We were in the car, talking about baptism.  He told me that he believed baptism was required, that unless we were baptized we couldn't enter into Heaven.  At that moment, I had never been baptized and offended at the thought, I remember telling him that I did not believe that at all.  Such a simple disagreement that shows so much.  I think it shows how easy it is for man to become confounded over the smallest issues.  It also shows reactions to opposition.  My reaction was to get offended and hold tight to my belief that not being baptized was okay.  I had always heard that baptism was a way to show everyone that you believed and accepted Jesus as your savior; not a requirement.  Even while I was defending my point, underneath my defense, I had no real idea if what I was saying was true or if what Michael had said was true. 


Right around this time, during our learning of other religions around us and trying to figure out which beliefs we agreed with, a new and wholly different church came into our lives.  I can remember seeing the Book of Mormon for the first time like it was just yesterday.  I remember not knowing much at all about it and only having a prickle of a memory that told me to stay away from that book.  And so we did.  


I think this is a good moment to stop and explain family relationships at that time. I will start with my own family.  My parents were divorced and I was living with my mom.  My mom and I had a great relationship, but during the time that I met Michael, she was going through her own set of decisions and trials.  All of which I won't speak of, because this is my story. We became more distant, but at the same time my being in high school and then spending most of my extra time with Michael also contributed to this distant feeling.  The first time Michael met my mom was an odd night.  He brought over the Matrix for us to watch at my house and that night my mother and dad (yes, this is why I call it odd) were in the back room with a bottle of wine.  They apparently had spent the evening sipping and talking. Looking back, I can't say there was anything to celebrate so as for the wine I'm not totally sure of why it was brought over.  I will fondly say that my mom and wine does usually equal a night of fun laughs.  I sort of think of that night as the calm before the storm. 


Michael's parents were divorced as well and he was living by choice with his grandparents.  His loving grandmother became his mother in most ways.  The first time I met his mom we were sitting in her driveway waiting for her to give Michael the "brown bag" special (I'm not going into detail on the special).  Their relationship was in obvious pieces and it was sad to see. She was the type that even though she didn't have a cigarette in hand, you would know that she carried that bad habit with her.  She seemed tense and stressed. Her house was closer to mine though, so he ended up staying over there more often.  



Now, I think all those details will suffice for the rest of my story.  We first saw the Book of Mormon sitting at his mom's house on the coffee table.  It freaked us out enough to leave immediately.  As time passed, missionaries began to come over to their house regularly.  Each time they arrived, we would try to leave as polite as possible.  Michael became concerned over what his family was getting into, so we decided to take a look at this peculiar religion.  We turned to the Internet, which turned out to be the wrong scary advise.  Michael wanted to make sure that his family wasn't making a huge mistake, so we took our scary bad advise to his family.  Contention never brings true answers.  His mother was baptised.  Shortly after his brother and sister were also baptised.  We decided to watch and see how things played out.  In our experience, a revival comes and you decide to do good, grow closer to the Lord, only to fall slowly away and back into old habits until the next revival season.  We figured this would play out the same way. The odd thing was that it didn't happen as we thought.  His mom quit smoking, and all other sinful aspects followed suit.  Their house became a place that actually felt like a home.  Something had changed and after a year it was still sticking.  His sister, who was usually out with friends and hardly home, was spending her Friday nights reading and studying scripture.  Before this, she went out to parties and truly was caught up in the same things I had been, but yet there she was making a complete 180 degree turn in the direction that I was desiring to go.  She lost friends and was still content enough to keep pressing forward in her new beliefs.    A year passed and the only changes we saw were better than good, they were great.  Meanwhile, Michael and I were still in the same position as we were the previous year.  We were still searching.  Wynndale Baptist Church was where we decided to go on Sundays and Wednesday nights.  We enjoyed it though we were still not content.  I remember always feeling a nagging and desire for more.  


We were walking into walmart one day and I turned to Michael and said, "why don't we start listening to the missionaries?" That way, we could put the "Mormon church" behind us once and for all.  We could hear them out, and maybe the nagging feeling would dissipate.  


When the missionaries would come over, we started staying a little longer.  Eventually, we were no longer leaving, but genuinely trying to understand what they believed and listened with a new hearts.  My heart wasn't closed and defensive anymore.  I had watched and saw examples of people who were not partaking in cult activity, but were amazing examples of Christlike people.  


One evening we were sitting around in a sizable group listening to the missionaries share the story of The First Vision.  I was hit with an unmistakable feeling of the Holy Spirit.  I had never felt it that strong before.  The only other moments I had to compare it to was during worship services at our current church.  I had felt the spirit during those sorts of services before, but I had never felt it to the degree of it being undeniable. I had tears in my eyes and I can remember seeking Michael's face to see if he had felt the same.  I found a set of eyes that matched my own.  From that moment, I knew The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was true.  I could not deny it. In the several months that followed, I felt like a spiritual sponge.  I was soaking up all that I could and I felt like missing puzzle pieces were snapping my life into place.


In all this time I had not shared these experiences or thoughts with my mom.  I had not even shared with her that we were looking into beliefs and trying to find a church two years before this moment.  She was in the dark and not on purpose.  Looking back I have no idea why I had never shared with her what I had been up to, but I can only imagine that it was meant to be that way.  


One night, I came in and desired to share with her all that I found.  My happiness was bubbling over as I began to tell her what I had found.  I don't remember getting more than the church's name out of my mouth before my world turned upside down. 


My mom had severe misunderstandings about the LDS church.  Some misunderstandings that I even had at one time.  Why I had not thought out what her reaction would be like, I have no idea.  


Michael became someone she did not like, and treated as such.  His mom was blamed for being "the influence" on both me and Michael.  Sadly, that part was not true.  For whatever reason, I suppose my mom needed to blame someone, and that blame fell to someone who truly didn't deserve such unfounded blame and there after hatred. My copy of the Book of Mormon was found and thrown in the trash.  It was replaced with anti pamphlets.  My mom began to consult the Internet and pastors of the baptist faith. All of which she believed and listened to, without ever giving me a chance to talk.  


If you are asked to report and study gorillas, I doubt you would jump in the car and spend the day on a farm tending goats or cows.  This is how I feel about studying a religion.  If you want to know about a Catholic, do not ask a Methodist.  My mom did not see things this way.  


I felt like I couldn't breathe.  My house became more of a prison in a way.  There was no talking between me and my mom.  To make myself feel better in my own room, I hung up a picture of Jesus Christ.  It was a picture published by the LDS church and my mom thought this Jesus was different.  In a fit she took down that picture and screamed that it was not the same Jesus.  I couldn't believe my ears.  Life went downhill for me.  I could not see any missionaries and no longer could go to Michael's mom's house.  I was 17 at the time and needed my mom's permission to be baptized.  At age 18 I no longer needed her permission, so I settled in to wait out the year.  My senior year of high school was fun, no doubt.  I don't regret anything having to do with that part of the year.  My close friends did quit hanging out with me.  Why invite a sober girl to a party anyway? But, I had a lot more important things going on at the time.  I had no time to fret over friends.  


I'm not going to go into detail of the many terrible things that happened over that year.  Let me just say that it was very hard and sad.  Not only did my mom treat me and Michael harshly, but the rest of my family treated me differently as well.  I had no one in my corner, and I truly felt alone.  


When I finally turned 18, it took me a month to finally do what I had been desiring most.  All of a sudden my waiting was over and after a year of fighting and dealing with things, I could only wonder what actually being baptised would do to my family relationships.  Mine and my moms was already in shambles, would joining the LDS church permanently damage it further?  I fretted for a month before the undeniable feeling returned.  I remembered and I knew no matter what I was following the Lord.  


I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in March of 2006.  Michael and I were married in August of 2006.  My life became breathable once again.  


My baptism is something that I hold very dear to my heart.  That evening many people from the ward attended, I felt a love and support from them like none other.  I will never be able to adequately express my gratitude for those came to support me.  I looked back to find some empty seats in the back row.  I imagined my family sitting in those seats.  I imagined them supporting me even if they refused to listen or agree, but in the end those seats remained empty.  I was sad, but then after my baptism all I could feel was love and that undeniable spirit there to testify to me that I had made the right decision.  I did feel as if I had indeed punch a hole into my family and heart, but that hole was quickly filled.  I knew I had followed the Lord and that I was on the right path.  Those feelings took the place of that hole.  


The wounded relationship between me and my mom was taped up to hopefully begin a healing process.  We survived by not talking about the subject of religion.  The feelings and blame my mom had regarding Micheal's mom for being the "influence" never went away.  It festered and got worse as Michael and I got married.  I love my mom dearly.  I know why she did what she did.  I even understand.  I hold nothing over her, and I hope that she feels my forgiveness.   


Five years have passed since the day I joined the LDS church.  In those five years, I have been blessed beyond measure and far more than I deserve.  As crazy as being married right out of high school sounds, it was my second most important decision in my life that turned out to be exactly what I knew it would be: wonderful.  We have been given three beautiful children and are living a worthy life.  Our trials have been hard, and we are not perfect.  We've had our share of fights and arguments over the years.  We have been humbled and grown together through each trial.  And I know where one trial ends, another begins. Through it all, I have been blessed thus far and I will always be eternally grateful for those blessings.  I desire to live my life in such a way that I show that gratitude to my Heavenly Father in all things. 


My mom recently visited and had a desire to talk with me.  She asked three simple questions that she said were hard for to ask.  After five long years of not talking about religion these are the questions she asked:


Do I believe that Jesus Christ is the ONLY way to heaven?  Of course I do. I'm sure I had a smile on my face when I answered, "yes."


Do I believe I have to work my way into heaven? "No, I do not."  Though I do believe that upon believing in the gospel and in Jesus Christ we are asked to live a life that represents that belief.  Living a life as such would require us as Christians to be a good Samaritan and doing good works.  Would doing a good deed, give us a point toward being able to attain heaven? No, but as Christians we are all asked to live a Christlike life, aren't we?


Do I think she is going to hell because she is not a member of the LDS church? "Of course not". 


These simple questions, might have been hard for her to ask, but they were easy for me to answer.  And a miraculous thing happened that day... I now know that my mom believes (finally) that I am a Christian.   She may not be ready to ask any other questions, and she may disagree with certain aspects of the LDS church, but none of that matters to me as long as she knows that her daughter is a Christian. 


I have a testimony that this church-- The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints -- is true.  I know that Heavenly Father still speaks to us, and that all is not lost.  I know that Joseph Smith is a prophet just as I know that the great men mentioned in the Bible and the Book of Mormon are prophets.  I felt the Holy Spirit testify to me and I cannot deny such promptings.  


I would ask that any who feels that we are not Christians, would sit back and look again with open eyes.  Eyes that are willing to look and a heart that is willing to feel.  I know what it feels like to be defensive and to not want to listen or hear a difference in opinion.  I know that change can be scary. I know what it feels like to be told over and over that you are not a Christian.  I know what it feels like to look into the eyes of a loved one and hurt because of them and for them.  I have a testimony of love.  I know that my mom did and said things out of love.  I know that hurt can be inflicted out of love. I have learned how to love and forgive in spite of that pain. I understand rage and misunderstandings. I have learned how to agree to disagree and build a firm relationship in spite of those disagreements. 


How grateful I am for a Heavenly Father who loves us enough to have given us a way to redemption.  I believe as the scriptures say that, "by small and simple things are great things brought to pass." 


This is my story, I am proud to tell it, and I am more than happy to say that I have found where I Belong.