Born into a non-LDS (actually anti-LDS) family that didn’t want or love me, by the age of four I felt an emptiness and loneliness that made me long for the heavenly parents who I was sure had loved and valued me. My need and desire resulted in my having many spiritual experiences in which I discovered that Christ not only had a personal church here on earth but that when I grew up, I was to join it.
Until I could find this church, I attended my family’s church, though I already knew it wasn’t the special church I had been told about. When I graduated from high school, I attended a nursing school owned by another religion and read everything in their library on their faith that they had. I also observed the students and teachers of that faith and asked them questions. I concluded their church was not the one I was looking for.
What followed was years of attending and investigating as many churches as I could, which introduced me to many strange beliefs. All I could learn about Mormons was what my family told me and from reading about Joseph Smith and Brigham Young–prophets and polygamy. I was impressed with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, the Osmonds, and the Church’s emphasis on family, but that wasn’t enough to overcome my conviction that the religion was all wrong. When I thought of prophets, I thought of Charles Manson. When I thought of polygamy, I thought that my Heavenly Father wouldn’t denigrate me like that and so it couldn’t possibly be right.
When I was 34, I lived in Florida, had two children, and had just been divorced. I had stopped going to churches several years before and had told God that He’d have to send the church to me because I couldn’t find it. When I saw young men knocking on doors across the street from my house, I thought they were from another church I’d already rejected and told my sons that I wasn’t even going to answer the door when they knocked. Time passed and I’d forgotten about them when I was passing the front door and heard a knock. Suddenly I knew who was kncoking and while I intended not to open the door, I watched my hand reach out–as if it had a mind of its own–and open the door. I remember thinking, ‘What is my hand doing?–I’ll never be able to get rid of these people!’
When I saw the faces of two young men smiling at me, I was surprised: They were glowing! I only half listened while they explained that they were missionaries with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I couldn’t remember which church that was. At my puzzled expression, they said, “The Mormons.” I said, “Oh,” and thought ‘prophets and polygamy–oh, well–be polite but get rid of them.’ And I proceeded to try to do just that.
Finally one of the missionaries said something that stopped me completely. He said, “Do you know there’s a prophet alive on the earth today?” A prophet?–one of the very ideas that I thought disqualified the church as being the one I sought. But it was as if a bell rang: I thought, ‘You know, God could do that–He could send a prophet to earth; he’s done it before, so why couldn’t he do it again?’ But I only said to them, “Well, I’m interested in religion, so you can come back, but I’m not going to convert.” Ha!
That was on Sunday evening, and they told me they’d be back at 2:00 either Thursday or Friday, depending on whether another appointment they had at 2:00 on Thursday was kept. I agreed and closed the door.
And Lucifer stepped in. That may seem a strange thing to say, but what happened was that I spent several days of torment, doubt, anguish. I had trouble eating or sleeping. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but when 2:00 Thursday arrived, I was all churned up and waited for the missionaries at the door to tell them I’d decided not to talk with them. But they didn’t arrive.
That’s when a complete flip flop occurred. Suddenly I felt hysterical and began to sob. I cried, “I don’t how to get hold of them! I don’t know how to find them! I’ll never see them again!” I was inconsolable and didn’t understand why. Suddenly a thought came to me: ‘Didn’t they say they might not be able to come today, and if they couldn’t, that they’d come tomorrow?’ I immediately calmed down, and said, “Oh, yeah–they did.”
The next day–Friday–an entirely different person met them at the door than the one who would have met them the day before. I was calm and open to what they had to say.
Nevertheless, I intended to question them, to find out if what they claimed–that their church was Christ’s–his special, personal church–was true. We went through several “discussions” that night, and they gave me a Book of Mormon to read. I read for hours and prayed about it as they suggested, with no answer. I wrote down questions I had about what I’d read–115 of them– before I finally went to sleep.
Saturday morning the missionaries returned and I presented them with the list of questions. I thought they’d be upset, but I didn’t care. (They weren’t.) I was determined that if what they claimed was true, I’d find out. We spent several more hours in discussions and most of my questions they answered satisfactorily. Some they were to get back to me on, and some I thought they were wrong about so I made notes on those. Nevertheless when they asked me to attend church the next day, I overcame my entrenched reluctance to go (it had been years since I’d gone to church) and decided that if the church were true, when I set foot in their chapel and saw the people there, I’d know.
When I arrived at the church, it was nice, though plain. The people impressed me, but I thought, ‘They’re just very nice people. That’s all.’ I was particularly impressed with the fathers there. They acted like mothers, holding their babies, caring fror them, kissing and hugging them. ‘Nice,’ I thought. But that wasn’t enough to convince me.
Then the first hymn sounded on the organ: “Onward Christian Soldiers,” a song I’d heard in my family’s church and a dozen other churches, too. Only this time it was different. A spirit entered my heart so strong that I could hardly breathe, and that’s when it happened. I received the answer to my prayer. I had a special experience during that song that showed me for sure–nothing doubting–that I had found what I’d been told to seek.
I can tesitfy to you that I know many things now, after being in the Church for many years, but the most important thing that I can tell you is this: Christ lives and The Church of Jesus Christ is really–honestly and truly–His church. Listen to the testimonies of the missionaries and members. We come from all over the world. We come from all religions. Some of us had no religion and didn’t believe God existed. But we all come to the same truth and the same gospel.
My problem over polygamy? I received the answer to that three months after I was baptized. You see, God talks to us, especially if we talk to him. He’s concerned about the things that concern us. He wants us to be happy. I tremble when I think about the possibility that the missionaries might not have returned. I can’t bear to think about it. But that would never have happened, of course, because, as I said, my Father in Heaven wants ME to be happy and the Church shows me how to do that. And I am.
