“I am careful not to confuse excellence with perfection.  Excellence, I can reach for; perfection is God’s business.” —Michael J. Fox

Maybe it is because I spent so much time today reading the heartbreaking comments so many people have posted on Single Dad Laughing, that I feel so compelled to post today.  The button on the bottom right will send  you to Dan’s amazing post, ‘The Disease Called Perfection’, a serious delve into the anguish caused by the pressure people put on themselves and upon others to appear as the media’s contorted perception of beautiful, behave pleasantly, never feel lost or uncertain, never make mistakes, never feel anger, never doubt, never sin, never fail to meet the expectations of others or mold yourself into their misconception of you.

As Dan so poignantly points out, lives have been lost—lives of children—because a person feels encompassed in darkness, trapped in their horrible situations, and there is no hope of that ever-changing.

They feel they have betrayed God or God has betrayed them, or they have disappointed their families or shamed them or angered them or whatever overwhelming despair overcomes them, and they take their own lives because they see it as their only means of escape.  Because of the despair of imperfection in a society that demands it.

The point of Dan’s post is to encourage people to stop castigating themselves that they are not the super model or the super mom or the ubber-dad or -kid they believe society demands of them; to be kinder to themselves; to know that they are not alone and that no one has experienced anything that has not been experienced by someone else.   The perfection in which they feel surrounded is only an illusion.  That illusion distorts our vision. We see everyone else more perfect than they are, and ourselves far, far less.

In response to that blog post, readers have poured out their hearts to the great anonymous void of the internet, hoping to somehow connect with someone—anyone who will listen, receive some validation, or just get a virtual hug.  In one day, almost 500 people have shared this post with their friends via Facebook, and almost 200 have made comments on the blog, either sharing their own sorrows or attempting to uplift those who so desperately stand in need of it.

I’m going to share my comment here, just to follow Dan’s example and be real, and dig up the courage to not do it anonymously. At first, I thought I wasn’t that brave, but the longer I wrote, the more I realized how important it was to be real enough to identify myself.

But, in the same token, the real me (not just the me I want everyone to see) is full of the light of hope which an unwavering testimony of Jesus Christ can bring.  In Him and in my Heavenly Father I have never doubted.  I have never been so encompassed by darkness that I felt utterly and absolutely abandoned.  I have always known to whom I can turn for solace, even if sometimes I don’t want solace and I just want to wallow in self-pity for a while.  That said, here is my comment:

Sorry. I’m not perfect enough to admit to my imperfections other than anonymously. Too many of my family and friends read this blog. Those who know me well will recognize me, and I don’t want to disillusion those who don’t.

I HATE the illusion. I hate that people think that I’m perfect. Recently, a friend said, ‘When I die and go to heaven, can I live in your mansion?’ I tell people, I’m not what you think I am. There is so much that I don’t do that I want to be doing—not because people expect it of me but because I truly believe in what I do and it gives me joy—but people believe I’m doing it all. It makes me feel like a fraud. I have gone so far as to tell them as much and I really feel uncomfortable when they heap on the praise, but they do it anyway. ‘Oh, you’re just too hard on yourself’. I’m NOT too hard on myself. I KNOW myself. Maybe that I don’t know others as completely as they don’t know me is the difficulty. But, I won’t stop trying to be better. I know myself well enough to know that the small successes I have are what give me joy. The greatest irony is, I need validation desperately and tend to fish for it.

My darkest shame: my husband has had a chronic illness for almost thirty years, one that is progressive and causes an immense amount of pain. There is no hope for any improvement. It will just worsen until it kills him, which could take a long, long, long, long time. He has never truly found the joy of life. His chronic illness and my own have drained our emotional and temporal resources. The first 20 years of our marriage were rocky. There were times when my children didn’t understand why I didn’t get a divorce. I didn’t because the vows I made when we wed are sacred to me, and although he could be verbally abusive, nothing ever passed between us that could not be healed—which it has, years gone.

I know he (now) has joy in our marriage, children, and grandchildren, but living is not a top priority to him. He swore he would never live to 50. That’s next year. Our faith is deeply grounded in Jesus Christ, and death to him has always been seen as relief, rather than something to be frightened of. Despite the large amount of narcotics he takes every day, the pain is scarcely bearable. His constant prayer is ‘please, please, please let me die. Just let me die.’ I know with my whole soul that he doesn’t commit suicide because of what it would do to me. He gets up every morning and goes to work, endures excruciating pain all day as well as struggle with the somnolence the drug cause, and then comes home to sit in front of the computer or TV and sleep, with the wonderful prospect of doing it all again tomorrow.

He stays for me, plain and simple. I love him all the more for it because I know what a sacrifice he is making for me. He stays and constantly prays ‘Let me die. Just let me die.’

But, sometimes that is my prayer as well. ‘Please, take him to You, relieve him of his pain, he is such a good, loving man. His whole life is invested in our family. Isn’t that good enough? Please, let him die.’ . . . and then I start thinking of the cool things I could do if his comfort wasn’t the ultimate determining factor in every decision I make . . . and when I have the life insurance. And, I hate myself because I do, because, who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t feel those sensibilities some of the time, and who wouldn’t hate themselves for it?

And I feel selfish and heartless for wishing that he would live decades longer because I’m not ready to do without him. Fini.

That is the real me, but there are far more important things about me that are equally real and help define me.  In another person’s comment, she stated that although she is a Christian and reads the Bible every day, she and her husband had decided that either the Bible was not all correct, or that God was a vengeful God and she wanted nothing to do with Him.  I replied by giving her the link for a free Book of Mormon at mormon.org and telling her she could find the God of love within.  Another reader objected, urging the person to look elsewhere, that God wasn’t in a book.  The following is my response:

For me, the Bible and the Book of Mormon are road maps. I know God is our loving Heavenly Father whose glory is returning us to His presence. He created us so that we might have joy, and to truly appreciate that overwhelming sensibility, we must suffer the sorrow and sometimes even the despair that are its opposite. Our Heavenly Father loves us so much, He gave His Only Begotten Son to suffer as we suffer that He may know how to succor us in our sorrows. Heavenly Father’s desire for us to return to Him is true and real, and He has not abandoned us to struggle through the highways and byways of this life on our own. He has given us prophets to teach us how to communicate with God personally. He has given us records of His dealings with men as proof of His love for us. These we call the Bible and the Book of Mormon. He has given us both, the better to convince us of the truth of Him, and to show us the way home.

I would not take my child, whether young or grown, out into a wilderness full of pitfalls and snares and all manner of dangers, then simply hope that somehow he manages to figure things out and make his way home again in safety. I would provide him with everything in my power to protect him and guide him out of peril. I would give him maps, a compass, a cell phone and a GPS. I would because to lose him to the wilderness would break my heart. Our Heavenly Father loves us far more than we as mortals can comprehend. Why would he not do the same for us? My heart weeps most for those who feel like God has abandoned them, that He does not care what becomes of us, and that he’s just a sadistic villain who gets his kicks out of watching people suffer. Nothing could be further from the truth.

If you don’t want to find God in scriptures, if you don’t trust them or men enough to put any faith in them, then seek Him out in yourself. There is nothing that will bring you more joy or that will help you understand God better than reaching out to those around you and lifting them, serving them, and helping them rise above their despair. Don’t do it because you want people to think good of you. Do it because you want to feel good about yourself. As you do, the joy you feel will give you a small glimmer of the joy God experiences when He helps His children.

Sacrifice for someone else. Your love for them and for yourself will grow. The more you forget yourself in the service of others, the more you give up something of yourself, the greater will grow your understanding of Jesus Christ and why He suffered for our sins. His love is infinite, but that small taste of it which you begin to feel will overwhelm you.

The Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ. It proves the Bible and the Bible proves it. Truly embracing the GOSPEL of Jesus Christ, not the CULTURE of Mormonism, will lift you as nothing else can. The culture of Mormonism can be brutal, as many here have testified. But keeping up with the Mormon Joneses is NOT the Gospel. Too often it can be a horrible stumbling block for those who don’t fit into that mold.

There are millions of Mormons of all shapes, sizes, ethnicities, and nationalities. They did not join the Church because they thought living in Utah was so peachy. They joined the Church because they found God and Jesus Christ in its precepts.

I’m just a white Anglo Mormon housewife who was born and raised in the Church but had to come to this knowledge on my own through a very long and very painful process. I have had reason enough to feel that God had abandoned me, but those trials have led me to the current strength of my faith and I would not trade them for anything. If you want to hear more from voices different from my own, visit mormon.org. Chances are, you can find someone there like you who can tell you their own story.

As I read the comments, I struggled to find the right thing to say to any of these people who so desperately need the calm and loving reassurance that Heavenly Father knows and cares about them.  While I struggled, a wise lady by the name of Jeralee posted them, which I’m taking the liberty of posting here:

I am moved by the real pain that is all around us, when we share what is in our hearts. Life is a test, it was not meant necessarily to be easy, but I believe we all chose it knowing just that. I feel great love for each of you that have shared through these stories…

As I have read your stories, I have cried along with you. I understand the pain is real. We all experience it, and we are all at different places on our path in life…to become better human beings. It is clear just in this cross-section of stories that none of us are without trials and pain in our lives, no matter how “perfect” a person’s life may appear on the outside. Pain and sadness is a great human denominator. But there is also so, so much more…

With so many of you I share the struggle of feeling less valuable due to being overweight. At times in my younger years I have done whatever it took to be considered ‘thin and attractive” diet, aerobics twice a day, hardly eating because that is what it took to feel like I was at an acceptable weight. Truth is it did not make me any happier, so I finally decided to love me for who I am, shortcomings and all. I could/should be at a healthier weight, but I stopped beating myself up about it all. I could go on and list all of my trials and struggles, of which there are and have been many, but I don’t feel it would be helpful. I do understand that I may have many difficult things in my life that still lie ahead. We don’t always see heartache coming. I have great faith in God, and I know and believe that Jesus Christ’s Atonement is for ALL of us. It is something that does requires work and study to fully understand. It is for the sinner, and the sinned against alike. I have had to work long and hard to overcome deep hurt and pain, and hand my load to Him who has the ability to heal all hurt (if we let him), and to believe and begin to understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ…It is often in these times of pain and suffering that we just begin to come to understand what He gave to us through this selfless act of Love…our greatest gift! One that has power to bring great Peace in times of turmoil and heartache.

I often think how I would love to go back and do my ‘motherhood’ years over again. Many things I would have changed…but I can only really start today to be better, to love more, and to judge less. I believe in the end of our lives it is going to be about how much we loved each other. We need to shoe love and compassion to everyone no matter how our beliefs and lives may differ.

“Perfection” is not my goal in life, only to do a little better today than I did the day before. Those who know me can take one look and know that to be true. “Perfection” is a word I would rather use in describing my favorite foods.

There is help for the hurt. There are answers to the problems. There are people trained to walk us through the times when we question if it is all worth it, and our Savior will be at our side if we invite Him. God does answer our prayers. Sometimes all we can do is pray and seek His peace. Often it is in the hindsight that I can finally see the His wisdom in an answered prayer.

I grew up listening to a wise mother who said “There are two kind of people in this life, one who is a part of the problem, and one who is a part of the solution” may we all be a part of the solution to heal those around us. There has only ever been one “Perfect” being to walk the earth. For Him, I am grateful every day of my life, and that IS the good news!!!

The pain is real, but life is a gift, and it can be so very great. And I believe, it will be worth it!

In sharing Dan’s blog, I could have simply posted the links and let folks find their way to these comments if they were interested, but I truly wanted to talk about what washed over me earlier this evening, after I had (I thought) worked it out of my system.  I do not think it would have been so significant otherwise, if I had not been in this mindset to begin.

For the nearly past two years, I have served as the compassionate service leader in my ward (a local unit of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints).  I also served as the ward Family Home Storage specialist and the ward web page administrator.  Service gives me joy, and I have never regretted doing any of these.  However, a couple of weeks ago, I was asked to accept a new calling, the ward Preparedness Committee chairperson.

I accepted with a bit of trepidation because, well, it is a HUGE job.  There are so many aspects of preparedness, both temporal and spiritual, and living in hurricane country as we do, the chair coordinates the efforts within the ward when a disaster happens.  They also ensure that members are prepared for such an event, that communication stays open, and that the leaders of the ward immediately know not only that everyone is safe and where they are, but who stands in need so they can dispatch that as soon as possible.  It is a tall order to fill for anyone, and I certainly don’t feel up to snuff, but I will do my best.  I know that if I rely on the Lord, I will be able to accomplish what is required.

Although I told the bishopric that I would be more than happy to continue on as compassionate service leader and that I truly enjoyed the calling, I was released from that position on Sunday.  Over the past two years, I have three post-funeral family dinners (one serving lunch to 400 people), arranged for countless meals to be taken to a large number of families in the wake of the arrival of a new baby, and spent a sobering but very sacred four months being one of the primary care givers for my dear friend who was diagnosed with uterine cancer and died before we could even catch our collective breath.

In this time, I have learned more about my Savior and more about His love for us, more about sacrifice and more about myself than I had ever done before.  I learned that service and sacrifice are the fastest way to understanding our Savior there is, because in so doing, we gain a small inkling of His love for us, and why he suffered in Gethsemane and died upon the cross for us.  And that small inkling can be overwhelming in the understanding.  I gained a love for the sisters in my ward that I never dreamed of attaining.  I became a much better person for it, and I can only pray that somehow I helped others come closer to Christ, even if only through their own experiences in providing service to others.  I could have gone years without learning these things if I served in my ward in any other capacity.

They released me last Sunday because they want me to pour all my efforts into my new calling.  Our hurricane preparedness is of primary importance to the bishopric and the stake, and I need to make it my priority as well.  However, our Relief Society president lost me, her visiting teaching coordinator and her second counselor in one week, and there is a young mother in our ward who is going to have a baby on Thursday.

I never thought it would be so difficult to release myself from a calling.  I am getting people to sign up to help out the young family who needs it, but as I sent out the email this evening, I actually cried (as I am doing now) because I will not be doing this any longer.  Compassionate service has been a great joy to me.  I have worked hard at it, filled in the vacant spots on the calendar on the rare occasions I ran short of volunteers, and have been weary with well-doing, but I could not have lost myself and my own troubles so completely or found such happiness and gratitude without the sacrifices.

I felt guilty on Sunday to leave my friend the RS president in the lurch, but today, doing something and realizing that I will no longer benefit from the blessings of it makes me cry.  I have come to love and admire the sisters with whom I have served and who have sacrificed so much for others.  I will truly miss that association.  I thank my Lord and Savior for allowing me to serve Him in this manner and for teaching me so much in so short a time. I only pray I can find the same job satisfaction in my new calling.  The friendships I have made over the past two years will last forever.

And what does all this have to do with Dan’s post?  Everything.  It is so difficult to see so much suffering, know the perfect cure for all these terrible ills, and yet remain unable to render any aid.  I told Jeralee that I wished we could offer transfusions of hope and faith to the soul-sick, as those with severe blood loss receive blood transfusions—transfusions which save their lives and which sustains them until their own body can rely on itself.  Would that I could infuse those around me who are born down with sorrow with the same light that fills me, the light that guides me home to my Father and His Son, my savior, Jesus Christ.

I think of Lehi’s dream, of his partaking of the fruit of the Tree of Life, the great joy that it gave him and his intense desire to share it with his family.  I think of his anguish as he watched his sons turn away from so simple a thing, so simple and yet so vital to their happiness.  I think of our Heavenly Father watching His children turn away from Him, or learn to despise Him, or worst of all, to fight against Him and draw others into the darkness after them.  How it must break His mighty heart.  How He must love His Only begotten Son, who provided the way for  His children to return to Him if they would, no matter the strangeness of the paths upon which they strayed.

I think of those things and I say a silent prayer of gratitude that that grief is not something I have yet had to suffer, and fervently plead that I never will.  My Heavenly Father loves me.  Jesus is the Christ.  There is hope despite the sorrow.  The smallest seed of faith can grow into a mighty tree.  Joy abounds if only we are grateful and recognize Him from whom all blessings flow.  God will never, ever abandon us for we are His children.  This I know to the very depths of my soul.


—P. Freeman
Please share with your friends.  You may help someone without even realizing it.

Dear Son,

After I sent you my letter last week, I went back to proof and polish it for publishing on my blogs, and ultimately ended up adding to it. The finished product can be found at both A Mormon Family Journal and A Mormon Journal, so I’m not bothering to send it to you again. Honestly, I doubt that you had time to read it all last week. With that in mind, I’m only going to send that which I haven’t previously sent you this week, so you can have time to finish reading it all if you have a mind. And, since I know you’ve got pictures to peruse and other letters to read, I’ll only send the last bit. (I also got our family page up and running. You can check it out if you like).

But, before that, a bit of chat. Hurricane Dolly is headed straight for Brownsville, but she’s just a timid little thing (barely a category 1), so it doesn’t look to be too serious. We hope to get a bit of rain out of it, but I’m skeptical. All we’ve seen thus far are sprinkles.

Adam took some much needed time off last week for a bit of a vacation with the fam. They went to Galveston on Thursday, did the beach and the aquarium, and then came up here on Friday. After he and Ariane got back from the movies (they saw The Black Knight at the new IMAX on H249, they tooled around town looking at furniture, then finally ended up back here to work on their hutch (or at least that was the plan). Actually, Adam decided the oak tree out front needed trimming and followed Dad out when he went to mow the lawn. Dad didn’t get the lawn mowed, but the tree did get a bit of a trim, which was nice because I really would have hated to see Dad perched up on that ladder like Adam was. Fortunately for him, Dad had been contemplating the whole business for some time and had already bought an electric tree trimmer, so the job was a lot easier than he anticipated.

I went to the temple yesterday with Sister P. That was really nice. It was Relief Society temple day, in addition to the day MW took out her endowments. It was good because more than Sister E and Sister P were there, but also the Sisters R, Sister B, Sister P, and myself. MW and BE will be getting married on August 2nd. Sister E used to do weddings for a living, so there’s really not much she wants us to do, but G and I plan on putting ourselves as much in her way as possible so we can be of as much use as she allows.

Whenever I go through a session with someone who is taking out their own endowments, my mind is always full of my first visit to the temple and I wonder if their thoughts mirror my own at that time. Then, I consider how much I have learned and how my testimony has strengthened over the ensuing 28 years, and each new thing the Lord teaches me when I attend.

Last fall during the adult session of stake conference, President Tolman explained to us why our stake was not going to participate in the ‘fill the temple’ program that the new temple president initiated. He said that because we live within the shadow of the temple, we should not have to be compelled to attend by a sense of obligation. He didn’t want attending the temple to be for us just another church assignment, as if we were filling a shift canning peanut butter. He said he hoped each of us would develop the resolve that nothing can keep us from the temple.

That need is very much a part of me. I crave to enter those walls and partake of the peace and spiritual enlightenment and instruction that awaits me there. Unfortunately, lacking transportation does keep me from the temple, but I need to strengthen my commitment and my arrangements so that even that ceases to be an issue. Aunt Carrie has started working in the temple, and the other day she told us of a scripture her temple president wanted them to memorize, which is this:

D&C 50:23-24

This is stunning to me when I consider how much light and knowledge of eternal things I believe myself to understand, and yet, I know that compared to the light the Father wishes to bestow me, I now scarcely hold a candle.

Sister J relayed another experience to me from her temple work. She attended a fireside of just temple workers inside the temple, and the speaker was an area authority or something of the sort. She said the things he taught them were deeply profound and awe-inspiring as things she had never learned before. Even so, now, she cannot remember of what he spoke which is typical of those in attendance that day. Overpowering all were the mighty power of the Spirit and truth and the brilliance of the light which shone upon them.

But why should this seem beyond our own grasp? It is all there in the scriptures which we are exhorted by the prophets to study. We are not admonished to memorize the Journal of Discourses or other writings or to make them a part of our daily routine. IWe are guided and instructed through the Holy Scriptures in which the complete Gospel of Jesus Christ is contained, where we obtain everything we require to gain salvation and exaltation. It is all there, at our fingertips, the same scriptures read by Joseph Smith and Brigham Young and Gordon B. Hinckley, the same source of light and knowledge. The question then remains, how much light are we allowing to escape from within those pages? How much light are we allowing into our souls?

The image comes to me of a dark lantern (which sounds oxymoronic, I know), which is basically a normal lantern surrounded by a metal can with only one door that the user opens or shuts according to when and where he wants the light to shine. Our scriptures are much akin. We carry around the source of truth, knowledge, and inspiration, that conduit to the Spirit in its completeness, everything the Lord knows we require to return to him again. Do we stumble around in the dark because we refuse to open the lantern, do we open it now and again to shine on a particularly rough patch in our path, or do we open it wide and cherish the light? Do we continue in God as the light grows brighter and brighter until we reach that state of perfection in which we become that light? I see attending the temple as removing that light from the captivity of the dark lantern and into the freedom and protection of a hurricane lamp. In this, the light shines free of encumbrance, its own variable how bright we allow it to burn.

Too many of my answers to these questions are shameful. I need to improve. I need to allow that light into my life by humbling myself enough to admit that I need it and that I cannot traverse this journey without it. There pride rears its ugly head again and keeps me too much in the dark. I need meekness and humility, and in this way continue in God by obeying his commandments and keeping the covenants I have made. Only through this can I partake of that light.

Well, here is another long letter that I swore was going to be shorter. Sorry about that. I need to stop here so that you’ll have time to read [my previous letter]. Know that I love you. I always pray for you. When I attend the temple on Tuesdays, a strong complement of missionaries usually attend the same session, and as we pray for them, you are indeed bright in my thoughts and sweet in my heart.

All my love,

mom

Dearest Son,

The following is a letter that I started to write you on Sunday during Sunday School (the foyer, for once, was quiet and deserted). The rest I finish today with all my hopes and prayers that it may be of use to you somehow as you endeavor to bring those around you unto Christ.

Gosh. I wish there was some way I could convey to you the power of today’s sacrament meeting. I must have heard Brother Keller wrong when I understood Ben to be speaking today (I thought at the time that it seemed rather early, considering his recent return home), or, Brother Keller could have simply been Brother Keller. At any rate, the McAvoys spoke, a relatively new couple in the ward, married six or seven years and 40-ish. It was simple and simply powerful and moved everyone in that room.

Sister McAvoy spoke about being raised in the Church, her earliest recollections of feeling the witness of the Spirit (when quite young), and gaining her own testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel. She thought it a bit vague to say, “I know this Church is true,” and expounded on the definition of truth and all we imply when we use that well-known phrase.

Brother McAvoy spoke quite simply and tenderly but powerfully of his conversion experience. He told of his grandmother who was a devout Catholic, so much so that nothing prevented her from attending mass on Wednesdays and Sundays—not even the Maine winter weather. He told how he wished to believe something so strongly and with such certainty as did his grandmother, but he had too many questions regarding her religion and tired of the answers given him—answers not at all but advice: have faith, my son.

Eventually, he became frustrated enough to start seeking out and investigating other denominations. He stated that he never went to a bad church—that they all were made up of good people doing good works—but they were all missing that ‘little something’ which would have joined him to any particular denomination.

Then, having reached the conclusion that there was no sect which answered all his questions and met all his requirements, he decided that he’d give agnosticism a trial for a while, that while being a great deal of his life. However, he ultimately admitted that the national religion of commercialism and instant gratification failed to provide him with any true fulfillment. As he spoke, it felt to me that he never gave up on God or Jesus Christ, nor ceased to believe in them, nor to hunger and thirst after the eternal truths denied him. He simply gave up looking.

Realizing that living for the latest gadget left him nothing but a bunch of stuff, he thought he’d try prayer. Prayer seems so elemental, does it not? And yet, for him, he was venturing into the unknown. He said he had always prayed out of the Catholic prayer book, his prayers all preconceived by some stranger probably dead for centuries. However, he eventually reached the decision that when he prayed he would have a real conversation with God, in the hopes that he would receive real answers.

He said, then, the answers started coming—not necessarily the ones he wanted, but they came. Ultimately, these promptings led him to respond to an advertisement touting a job with ‘a great boss and positive working environment,’ etc. That certainly seemed to be the job for him. He got the job but immediately realized it was not the job for him, it was the worst job he had ever had, and he despised his boss, but every time he determined to quit on the spot, something inside him said ‘not yet’.

The one thing he liked about his place of employment was the fact that everyone discussed religion frankly and openly, and there was nothing he more enjoyed. He said people of all denominations were represented and voiced their opinions and explained their doctrines freely. However, one of his friends told him one day to “stay away from Ann. She’s a Mormon.”

Of course, this sparked his interest. He had never heard of these people called Mormons, let alone the church to which they belonged. Ann (the future Sister McAvoy) seemed perfectly normal to him, and rather nice at that. So, he determined to figure out the mystery. He had never heard of a Mormon before, and because his friend was so negative, he expected her answers to his questions to be dodgy and anything but forthright. He expected her to be evasive altogether respecting any inquiry he made and was glad to be pleasantly disappointed in his preconceptions.

Over the years of his search, he decided that there were two primary principles prerequisite to any religion with which he would associate himself. The first was the need for a ‘captain of the ship’. He said that his Catholic upbringing helped develop his opinion that the church he chose must have a central governing body and that the religion must be universally consistent in precepts and practice. His stated his prerequisite as ‘is it protestant?’ which I understood to mean, does it have a head to guide the whole church or do delegates convene to vote on doctrine which may or may not be require the adherence of individual congregations?

He asked this of Ann. She told him of the Great Apostasy and the Restoration of primitive church. We believe that Christ stands at the head of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, that, through his prophet, Joseph Smith and under direction of our Savior, it was again established on earth. The priesthood (the authority to administer in Christ’s name) had once again been restored. The Church is consistent worldwide: the same scriptures are used, the same principles taught, the same programs initiated. The Church is the only faith with governing body which is true to the structure of the early church established by Jesus Christ during his earthly ministry. We believe that the leaders of our Church are apostles and prophets of Jesus Christ, and that through his divine authority they lead and guide this church. We believe that each member is equally entitled to revelation over his particular calling or sphere of influence, but the stewardship of our prophet, seer, and revelator encompasses the whole earth.

Brother McAvoy went on to say that this answer moved him to ask his second prerequisite question, who goes to Heaven? Sister McAvoy told him of our temples. We believe that through the atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved through obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel. (3^rd Article of Faith, Pearl of Great Price, emphasis added). We believe that every soul shall have the opportunity to hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ whether in this life or in the next. We believe the moral agency of each individual is essential to God’s great plan of salvation. We believe that missionary work continues beyond the veil which shades our mortal eyes, and all will choose of themselves whether to accept or reject the vicarious work performed for them within the House of the Lord. God will force no man to heaven.

Needless to say, this doctrine answered Brother McAvoy’s sense of injustice in the belief that only those who lived under the influence of Christianity and accepted its doctrine could possibly make it to heaven. He expressed his concerns that there were many good people in the world, those who lived Christian precepts and did good works no matter the form of worship to which they ascribed. Every sect he investigated failed to answer the injustice of that claim.

He then decided to read the Book of Mormon. However, he had not voiced his intent to Ann nor decided to meet with the missionaries, so he went to the local Christian book store to pick one up. (Here, the congregation laughed). Failing in that quest, he decided that if anyone had that book, Barnes and Noble would. (The congregation laughed again). When he again failed to find it, the clerk tried to help him by looking it up on the computer. She said, “It says we have one in stock, but I can’t figure out in what section it would be in.” Then, she mused, “That’s really weird, because my neighbor is trying to give copies away all the time.” To be fair, Barnes and Noble does carry the Book of Mormon and can be found here.

Brother McAvoy decided it was time for him to attend a meeting and accepted Ann’s invitation. Being from a Catholic background, you can imagine the paradigm shift he underwent as he grew accustomed to our particular brand of worship. The building was simple, without the usual ornaments he had come to expect. Instead of a priest or preacher standing in a pulpit before the room, members of the congregation delivered the sermons. Our faith functions on a lay ministry, where leaders and teachers of both genders donate their time and talents to the Gospel. No plate for donations was passed, which settled another point of concern for Brother McAvoy. The priesthood is conferred upon all worthy males, beginning at the age of twelve and progressed through incremental degrees. Thus, the sacrament (similar to the Holy Communion), the center and focus of our Sunday worship, is conducted by young men with great simplicity.

Brother McAvoy came away certain that it was all too good to be true. There had to be a flaw somewhere, some indiscretions of its leaders, some controversy regarding the Church, some sort of underhanded dealing. It all too perfectly suited him and answered his every concern. There had to be a fly in the ointment, and so he determined to investigate. Needless to say, he found no shortage of derogatory material to peruse on the Internet. He came across arguments against the Book of Mormon, the premises of which he easily dismissed. However, it puzzled him immensely that the primarily focus of attack centered on Joseph Smith rather than the Church itself.

He had by that time agreed to take the discussions. The missionaries came and shared with him the first discussion. The spirit was strong, their closing prayer had been said, and the missionaries took their leave. However, the senior missionary turned to him again and told him that he didn’t know why, but he had to tell him one more thing, which was this: it is all circular. If the Book of Mormon is true, then the Church has to be true, and if the Church is true, Joseph Smith was truly a prophet of God. If Joseph Smith was a prophet, then the Book of Mormon is true. It was then that Brother McAvoy realized why Joseph Smith was the brunt of so much defamation. There is nothing sinister about the Church. Attacks upon it as an institution are week and ineffectual. Thus, they focus on the man rather than the church he founded, hoping to deprive it of its foundation.

The fault with that strategy is, Joseph Smith is not the foundation of our faith. Our religion is sunk into the bedrock of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and propelled by the continuing revelation he gives to his prophets today. With that certainty burning in one’s bosom, with the whisperings of the Spirit that assures one time and again of the truthfulness of not only Christ’s divinity but also his very personal and intimate, everlasting and infinite love for each individual, the railings of its adversaries and accusations of the misinformed simply cease to be. They do not and cannot whisper the peace of the Still Small Voice. “By their fruits ye shall know them,” and the publishers of such things produce naught but anger, distrust, resentment and malice.

Finally, Brother McAvoy explained, it was time to “meet the prophet”. He knew he would know him a Man of God, a true prophet, or simply a chairman of the board who claimed divine inspiration to accomplish his own ends. This all occurred over the summer of 2001. September rolled around, and his investigation had reached this point.

Then, 9.11 happened. When he learned that President Hinckley was calling a memorial service in honor of the victims, he knew the opportunity for which he had waited presented itself. He would finally get to meet the prophet. Unfortunately, his boss was rigid and demanding. Personal days were nonexistent in that office, which meant neither Brother McAvoy or Ann would be able to attend the memorial service. As it happened, an interesting little tropical storm was pirouetting in the Gulf, threatened to land a hurricane on their city, Tampa Bay, Florida. The boss closed up shop and told everyone to stay home, which opened the way for Brother McAvoy’s attendance. He stated that he didn’t claim a personal miracle in the form of a hurricane, only that he just thought the sequence of events interesting.

President Hinckley was nothing as expected but everything Brother McAvoy hoped he would find. He wore no vestments, no great tall ornate hand, no robes or anything that overtly proclaimed to all the world that ‘Here is a Great Man!’ However, he spoke with such great power that his voice reached into Brother McAvoy and professed to him personally that he was truly the Lord’s Servant, called of God.

And there his story ended, and his bore his own sweet testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel. The Spirit bore witness of the precepts he taught, particularly as every lesson subsequent to that meeting seemed an extension of it, as if they simply broke into groups to discuss it. To see how many people he affected was not surprising, particularly when the laughter or nodding heads or tissues produced professed how nearly the converts in the chapel (which were not a few) identified his story with their own. Neither were the born-and-bred members unmoved, for every member who professes to follow Christ must at some point or another develop a testimony of their own. They must deal with the doubts and questions which niggle at them. They must have the Witness of the Holy Ghost profess that this church is Christ’s own.

I know, because I have experienced my own conversion. Jesus Christ is the Son of God. I know he lives and actively engages in furthering his work and his glory, which is to bring to pass the eternal life of man. I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is his Gospel, fully restored, guided and directed by his hand. I know that he suffered for our sins, that he achieved the great and infinite Atonement, all for his love for us—for me—and for his love of God the Almighty, his Father, that we, his children, may one day return again to him.

I know Joseph Smith was and is a prophet of God, that he was called and ordained to be the Lord’s instrument on earth when the truth was restored. I know that his successors in that holy calling as prophet, seer, and revelator, as well as president of the Lord’s church, are equally called of God, the Lord sustains and uplifts them, they wear the mantle authority upon their shoulders and have bestowed upon them the keys of the Priesthood of the Holy Order of God.

I know that President Thomas S. Monson is the Lord’s prophet for this time, and, like every other prophet before him, He has been raising him up for this singular purpose from his birth. Do you remember when, as first counselor in the First Presidency, he came to Houston, to our chapel, and we were able to see him in person? We were not near enough to shake his hand, nor did I wish to add to the press to greet him, but as he walked into the room he brought with him such a spirit of God’s love as radiated out to encompass us all. I know he is God’s prophet, as surely as I know President Hinckley was God’s prophet, and the depth of my love and certainty for him I cannot express.

I know Jesus Christ is my lord and my savior, my son. I know his love for me is infinite. I begin to understand what it is to kneel in his presence as I petition to the Father and pray in his name because he has bestowed upon me that great privilege, as I know that experience, as overwhelming and indescribable as it is, is naught but the smallest inkling of what it will be when he at last calls me home.

Of these eternal truths I testify, in his name, even Jesus Christ, my Savior and Redeemer. Amen.

I love you. Be well, have faith, work hard, do good and rejoice! The Lord is King.

mom