I've been thinking about my conversion to the LDS church this week with fondness. I wrote the story for my missionary mom's group online and decided to share it with all of you here as well. It's pretty long, so I may have to post it in two separate postings. I hope you'll take the time to read about my wonderful journey. Enjoy!
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It was winter in Washington State in 1979. I was fourteen years old and in 9th grade. I have two younger sisters. My father was a military man and we were living on Whidbey Island in the Puget Sound of Washington State. My mother worked full time for an Engineering firm. We had prayed to find a church to attend for years. After checking out all the churches in our area and not receiving the answers we sought about God's trued church, we gave up for a time.
The winters were often filled with misty, foggy days that chilled to the bone. It was a temperate rain forest climate. Not too many people rode bicycles during the winter because the fog would cause ice to build up on the streets. More than once I'd seen an entire school bus slide to the side of the road and flip over during my childhood.
So on this particular winter day when two statuesque, well dressed men came to our door, I was surprised to see bicycles parked out front on the street. My mom had answered the door and I was peaking over her shoulder-- curiosity drawing me near. She was polite to them. I noticed strange name tags on their suit jackets. Something about Jesus Christ of Latter-day something. They didn't look like the normal church people who showed up every week. They were nicer too.
Before mom gave it a second thought she told the men she wasn't interested. They said they had a short message to share and did so without pause. But my mom said she still wasn't interested and had to go. Then they left. As soon as she shut the door it was as if more than the sunlight had left our home. An emptiness like a vacuum filled me. It hurt. My mom sat in the kitchen with an odd look on her face. She was lost in thought for some time. Then she ran to the phone and called my dad at work. This is how the conversation went, at least how I remember it as a fourteen year old girl.
"DeWayne! I just sent some missionaries who called themselves Elders, away from our door. But they didn't seem like your run of the mill church people. They dressed different and wore little black name tags. They were also really nice and left when I asked them to leave. You know I've always been nice to the other guys, even when they weren't, but somehow this was different. I felt something... DeWayne I feel like I did something wrong sending them away. What do I do?"
I stood there holding my breath for a minute, letting it out slowly when I realized what I was doing. How silly!
Mom nodded a few times while talking to dad and then said a hasty goodbye and hung up. She ran for the coat closet, grabbed her jacket and I did the same. She smiled nervously and said, "Val, we're going out to find them and bring them back! They aren't who we thought they were, they're Mormons!"
I was shocked, what the heck were we doing chasing Mormons down? They couldn't be Mormons. They weren't wearing black hats, and I hadn't seen any black beards either! She must have been confused? What about those ten wives they had? I went along with her keeping my thoughts to myself though.
We got into our blue pinto and took off. On our Island we had a saying. "You can't get too far on the Island without getting your feet wet!" It was a narrow, long Island. On FT Nugent road there weren't very many places for two big guys on bicycles to get lost. We looked for an hour and went down every road known to man and still, no missionaries. No one we stopped had seen them either. They had vanished into thin air!
part 2 on Saturday...
***
It was winter in Washington State in 1979. I was fourteen years old and in 9th grade. I have two younger sisters. My father was a military man and we were living on Whidbey Island in the Puget Sound of Washington State. My mother worked full time for an Engineering firm. We had prayed to find a church to attend for years. After checking out all the churches in our area and not receiving the answers we sought about God's trued church, we gave up for a time.
The winters were often filled with misty, foggy days that chilled to the bone. It was a temperate rain forest climate. Not too many people rode bicycles during the winter because the fog would cause ice to build up on the streets. More than once I'd seen an entire school bus slide to the side of the road and flip over during my childhood.
So on this particular winter day when two statuesque, well dressed men came to our door, I was surprised to see bicycles parked out front on the street. My mom had answered the door and I was peaking over her shoulder-- curiosity drawing me near. She was polite to them. I noticed strange name tags on their suit jackets. Something about Jesus Christ of Latter-day something. They didn't look like the normal church people who showed up every week. They were nicer too.
Before mom gave it a second thought she told the men she wasn't interested. They said they had a short message to share and did so without pause. But my mom said she still wasn't interested and had to go. Then they left. As soon as she shut the door it was as if more than the sunlight had left our home. An emptiness like a vacuum filled me. It hurt. My mom sat in the kitchen with an odd look on her face. She was lost in thought for some time. Then she ran to the phone and called my dad at work. This is how the conversation went, at least how I remember it as a fourteen year old girl.
"DeWayne! I just sent some missionaries who called themselves Elders, away from our door. But they didn't seem like your run of the mill church people. They dressed different and wore little black name tags. They were also really nice and left when I asked them to leave. You know I've always been nice to the other guys, even when they weren't, but somehow this was different. I felt something... DeWayne I feel like I did something wrong sending them away. What do I do?"
I stood there holding my breath for a minute, letting it out slowly when I realized what I was doing. How silly!
Mom nodded a few times while talking to dad and then said a hasty goodbye and hung up. She ran for the coat closet, grabbed her jacket and I did the same. She smiled nervously and said, "Val, we're going out to find them and bring them back! They aren't who we thought they were, they're Mormons!"
I was shocked, what the heck were we doing chasing Mormons down? They couldn't be Mormons. They weren't wearing black hats, and I hadn't seen any black beards either! She must have been confused? What about those ten wives they had? I went along with her keeping my thoughts to myself though.
We got into our blue pinto and took off. On our Island we had a saying. "You can't get too far on the Island without getting your feet wet!" It was a narrow, long Island. On FT Nugent road there weren't very many places for two big guys on bicycles to get lost. We looked for an hour and went down every road known to man and still, no missionaries. No one we stopped had seen them either. They had vanished into thin air!
part 2 on Saturday...
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