I am a child of God

The LDS temple in Laie, Hawaii on Oahu.

Sunday is my favorite day of the week.


It's a day that I allow myself to rest, meditate, and have lots of long conversations with family. 


Since December of last year, I've also been using Sundays for church. If you know me well, you know that this is a big change from how I used to be, and before I get into the activities of my first Sunday in Hawaii, I'd like to take a second to share my conversion story with you, because it's pretty cool.


I was raised to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. If I don't explain anything well enough for you, or you have more questions that I don't answer in my blog, feel free to visit the church's official websites: http://www.lds.org or http://www.mormon.org. You're always welcome to ask me any questions you have about my religion, but please PLEASE remember that I am just one member of this church. I am not a spokesperson, and I certainly am not speaking on behalf of the entire church in anything that I say. This is just my story and my opinions..


I went to church every Sunday, growing up. When I was eight, the age of accountability, I chose to be baptized as a member of the church. That's right, in my church we don't baptize infants, but we baptize eight-year-olds. We do this because we don't believe in original sin. We believe that by the time a child is eight, they are mature enough to know right from wrong and can decide for themselves if they would like to be baptized. Anyway, I was baptized, and we continued going to church for about another year after that. At the end of third grade, we moved about thirty miles north of where we had been living. I'm not sure if distance was the real reason why we stopped going to church, but we did. We went long enough for my little sister to be baptized when she was nine, but we didn't continue going to our church meetings or activities during the week. By the time I turned twelve, I had a lot of questions about church, mortality, and God. My parents didn't have answers, and I didn't have many other resources, so I formed my own beliefs all by myself.


A few months before I turned fifteen, my father got into some legal trouble. In order to avoid going to prison, my father decided that, in addition to getting our entire family counseling, it was time for us to return to church. In short, I was resentful of my father's decision, and I turned my anger toward the church. The only reason why I kept going to church was because I had some really amazing friends who I'd met there. My friends always greeted me with smiles, hugs, and unconditional love. They always made me feel more welcome than I ever felt anywhere else. They were amazing.


When I was nearly seventeen, because of my deteriorating relationship with my father, I moved to Utah to live with my mom and step-dad. At this point, my testimony (what I believe to be true about my church) was very shaky. I was still going back and forth about the existence of God. I continued attending church until I was almost nineteen, but I didn't believe in most of it. 


Then, I took a few years off. I initially planned on using my extra time to meditate, study, and learn the truth for myself. Instead, I grew neutral about religion and spirituality. I decided that there is no way to know for sure in this life, so what was the point of even trying? I stopped attending any church services. I stopped doing the things I had been taught were right. Somehow I ended up with a really amazing husband. He wasn't indifferent to religion, but he was extremely lazy, and he joined me at home most Sundays.


One day in the fall of 2010, I attended church with my in-laws. I was sitting in Relief Society (the class for adult women) and the lesson was about patience. Suddenly, it occurred to me that church is like school for how to be a good person. I realized how arrogant I had been for thinking that I didn't need to learn anything about being a better person. My new question was, "Who doesn't need church?" I'd had this epiphany and told my husband about it, but we didn't act on it. A few weeks later in December, I finally told him that we were going back to church and that was that. Even though my honey had drill the next day for the Army, I went to church by myself anyway. As soon as I got there, I knew I had made the right choice. I felt the spirit so strongly over the course of the next few weeks that I knew I needed to go to the temple. Joshua and I have always been the "go big or go home" type, so with going back to church, we also decided to take Temple Preparation classes so that we could be brought up to speed about temples and ultimately be sealed to each other. 


The sealing ordinance in our church is really cool. This is what sets my religion apart from many others. We believe that after death, we can be reunited with our loved ones who also chose to be sealed. We also conduct sealings in proxy for people who have died. This means that the deceased person we perform the work for can decide on the other side if they choose to accept the work done for them. Anyway, it's awesome because this is how my family can be together again one day. 


On April 28, 2011, Joshua and I were sealed in the Bountiful temple. This means that we are stuck together for an eternity, not just this life. This also means that when we have children, they will already be automatically sealed to us. 


My road back to religion and spirituality was long and full of lots of potholes, but I'm back for good, and I love it. In my next post, I'll talk about how amazing my ward was in Hawaii and why I would go all the way back to Ewa Beach First Ward just to be with them again.