'Twas a dark and stormy night. I was crying and covered in blood, yanked suddenly from my comfortable abode into the presence of strangers. Thus began my strange new journey in this world as a corporeal being some thirty-odd years ago. If I knew who I was and where I was going, that knowledge left me by the time my fontanels closed.
My parents instilled in me a love of knowledge at an early age and that desire has motivated many of my actions over the years. I never imagined that my search for truth would lead me to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Even though I lived in Pocatello, Idaho throughout my elementary school years, it was after I moved to Eugene, Oregon that I knew such an organization existed. You're from Idaho, people would say, so you must be a Mormon. And I'm thinking, what's a Mormon?
I grew up enjoying the social aspects of Congregational churches while remaining athiestic. My parents taught me that church was a nice place to meet good people, but it didn't really matter if you believed or not. I stopped attending services my sophomore year.
Returning to the "Mormon corridor" for high school, I put my speech & debate talents to use as I conversed with religious people about God. I sought to enlighten them by exposing their wrong beliefs about God and religion, and thus free them from the bondage of the traditions of their fathers.
My senior year I dated an LDS guy and naturally our conversations about religion grew increasingly contentious. His mother eventually tired of his belligerence on the telephone and suggested he lend me some of their books so I could learn more from a more rational source. As an avid debater, I jumped at the chance to explore the ins and outs of the Church so I could strengthen my arsenal.
I worked my way through the piles of books they gave me and I was startled that some of it was actually making sense. I pushed those thoughts away to focus on learning the material first--analyzing it could come later.
After viewing "Christ in the Americas" at the Idaho Falls Temple Visitors Center, I put in a request to have the missionaries phone me to arrange discussion times/places. They would not be welcome at my house, I had no doubt about that given the door slamming response when they tracted our neighborhood earlier that month.
Despite the missionaries showing up on my doorstep the next week without calling first, I started discussions with them at a nearby church building. The missionaries scrambled through their scriptures looking for answers and explanations in response to my questions and quibbles with organized religion and the existence of God. Surprisingly, they were able to answer most of them and promised to look up information on the others if I would continue to read the Book of Mormon and pray about it before our next appointment.
An internal wrestling match ensued. If the information I'd read was true, then I was wrong, and had been wrong about nearly everything in my life up to that point. I struggled with these feelings, my not wanting to be wrong tugging me one way and my yearning for true knowledge pulling me in the other direction.
The next week the missionaries were talking to me about something from the Book of Alma, and I remembered reading something similar in A Marvelous Work and A Wonder. “Oh yeah,” I commented, “I really like what she had to say about that.”
**crickets chirping**
The elders look at each other, and one of them speaks up. “Actually, Alma is a man. In our church, only men hold the priesthood. Will that be a problem for you?”
The elders were completely unaware of my left-of-center feminism. Anyone who knew me at that point would have choked, imagining my response to such a question. Crash and burn, Elders, crash and burn.
What happened next , was instant and clear direct spirit-to-spirit communication, Suddenly, I knew there was a God, Jesus was who He said He was, I was loved, there was a plan for me and I was in no way less esteemed or less eligible for salvation because I would not hold the priesthood. I understood I would know it all someday, but this was enough for now.
What may have seemed like and should have been a very long and awkward silence was followed by the absolutely honest and sincere declaration from me, that No, it would not be a problem. My baptism was three weeks later (regrettably, I’ve since lost contact with the family that introduced me to the Gospel).
Choosing baptism was the best decision I ever made. Runners up include marrying my husband eleven years ago, making temple covenants and becoming a mother. These days my life is blessedly full and joyfully chaotic as I journey with my husband and our six children, traveling the path of home education, living in the Valley of the Sun.
That caterwauling infant has come far beyond her wildest dreams.
You are welcome to contact me stadycanton -at- watersofmormon -dot- org