Part 5 - I prayed for an Angel

Last night I was looking through my Pinterest boards and I found a secret one that I had created about a week before the flood called “going back to church”. I kind of chuckled that it was a secret. I am just in awe at how Heavenly Father was preparing me to come back. He knew what was about to happen. I needed that little spark of desire in me. I forgot to mention that on Thursday morning before I left for Idaho I said a prayer. I hadn’t prayed in a VERY, VERY long time. I had the impression to find my Book of Mormon (I didn’t get rid of my scriptures even though I got rid of everything else). It was under my bed in a box literally collecting dust. I blew off the dust and said another little prayer asking Heavenly Father to help me and find something that I needed to read. I opened the book up and it just happened to open to the story of Alma the Younger. So I read and I realized that I was like him in so many ways. No, I didn’t see an angel and no, I wasn’t struck dumb for 3 days but I knew this story was meant for me to read at that time. I was about to have my own miraculous change of heart. My sister and I continued to heal our relationship and we became friends again! I had missed her so much. I missed her family. I had packed some Sunday clothes just in case I wanted to go with my sister to church on Sunday. The plan was to drive home on Sunday. I decided that I would go to church. But the progress on the house moved so quickly that we decided to come home on Saturday instead. I had promised my sister that I’d go to church in my home ward. Jaws were about to drop again. I sent a quick text to the Mission President in Utah and let him know. They had promised me that they would come with me my first Sunday back. I knew how busy he was and I knew that he’d have plans. But I wanted to let him know I was going. He said his wife would go with me! I was so nervous as I got ready to go that Sunday morning. I had decided to go. I walked out the door and my neighbor asked me where I was going. I told her church! She was so happy. She also informed me that I was about 4 hours too early. I didn’t even know what time our ward started!! As I was talking to her the Mission President’s wife drove up and I had to tell her that I messed up on the time. She didn’t mind a bit! So I went back home and waited and waited and waited. I told my next door neighbor that I was going and she asked if I wanted to walk with them to church, so I did. I met Sister C there and we all walked in together. Jaws didn’t drop openly like they did on Easter but a lot of eyes certainly got a little bigger! I was a nervous wreck. But I did it! I sat there and sang the hymns and listened to the things said. The talks were all about the pioneers. You see, it was the Sunday before Pioneer Day. I didn’t run away once the meeting was over. I couldn’t. There wasn’t a physical way to get out of there because all of my friends had come up to give me hug after hug after hug. Sister C mentioned that she was so happy that there were so many people who loved me. I stayed for Sunday School and Relief Society that day. Our lesson in Relief Society was about the Holy Ghost. It’s a lesson I’ll never forget. During my time away from the church I prayed. I did. I prayed that God would just send down an angel and then he could tell me the church was true and then that would be it. I’d believe again. You know, because God always justs casually sends angels down to talk to us all the time. For me that was the only way I’d believe...an angel. I wanted an angel dressed in a white robe, with a halo and big, white wings. It didn’t happen. The lesson was really good! The Spirit was really strong. I thought about that angel that never showed up and then at the end of the lesson the teacher read a quote from the manual. I almost fell out of my chair. I almost stood up and raised my arms and said “praise Jesus. Hallelujah”. But we aren’t that kind of a church. HA! She pinned this quote to the board “The Spirit of God speaking to the spirit of man has power to impart truth with greater effect and understanding than the truth can be imparted by personal contact even with heavenly beings. Through the Holy Ghost the truth is woven into the very fibre and sinews of the body so that it cannot be forgotten.5 “ Yes, the Church was true. That was my answer. I didn’t need an angel. I had been baptized and I had received the Gift of the Holy Ghost when I was 8 years old. I raised my hand and told the sweet sister in our ward about my praying for an angel and how well that worked out for me. Yes, through the Holy Ghost I knew the truth. I knew that I was where I needed to be. I knew that I needed to share my story. Now what? Now I rebuild. I rebuild what was once lost. I ask for forgiveness. I work on repairing broken relationships. I do tend to dwell on what was lost. I know I missed out on blessings and opportunities. I think of the choir I used to sing in. I miss it. So now I face the consequences of my actions. But it’s ok! Because through the Atonement I have become whole again. I’ve met with Bishop May. He’s a wonderful man who loves our family and wants only what is best for us. A couple of weeks ago he and his wife gave a talk in sacrament meeting. They stood up together and spoke. I thought it was a such a neat idea. They talked about the Second Coming. They talked about being prepared and they talked about the parable of the Ten Virgins. My lamp was bare to the bones. I sat there and started feeling sorry for myself. I had so far to go! Then I realized that it was that jerk Satan putting those thoughts into my head. Is my lamp as full as others? No, but that’s ok! How do you fill a lamp with oil anyways? A drop at a time. I may only have a few drops in my lamp compared to others but if Christ came today it would be enough. I’m doing my part to prepare and live the Gospel. Drop, drop, drop...if we continually add drops to our lamps it will always be enough. Christ won’t say, “sorry Tami, you only have enough oil to burn for an hour and this person over here has enough oil to burn for 24 hours. They are the ones that get to come in with me”. That’s all I’ve got right now because my journey has just started. But I’m making progress...drop, drop, drop. I have a new understanding of the Atonement. I am made whole again because of His sacrifice. It takes faith. But I also have a physical reminder of all that was sacrificed for me in that flood. I have mud stained pictures to look at. I have emails to read from my parents telling me that they’d do this over and over again for me. For ME??? Oh what a humbling experience this has been. So when the days get hard and I feel like giving up I have something to look at and remember. I will forever honor and treasure this experience. I’m going to end this conversion story with a poem I wrote. Thank you for reading. I have big plans for this little blog of mine so stay tuned. It doesn’t end with this post. The struggle was real inside her heart. The worldly views tearing her apart. But the Lord never left her side. He knows her perfectly. Perfect love comes from above. So gently He calls. Down on humbled knees people praying for a miracle, a change of heart. Yes, it would come. Waters raging. Lives seemingly destroyed. But with that destruction something comes back to life. A miracle. She is reborn out of the mud, debris and heartache. Flood waters recede and God makes anew. How quickly a heart can change. How quickly God can change a heart. Angels all around, both seen and unseen. The love abounds. Yes, God never leaves our side. A heart once sad, broken. Slow to beat. Slow to understand and believe, deteriorating. It is shocked back to life, quickly it repairs. What was once black, dark, heavy, pumping lifeless anger, despair, misery and sadness is brought back to life. The Savior her doctor. He makes anew. He takes her heart in his hands. Gone is the anguish. He calms the storm. He cures the broken. We are all broken. A chip here, a crack there. Sometimes a missing piece. He repairs. A heart now full of love and life beats in her chest a perfect rhythm. No longer black, it pumps hope and faith. True happiness. Overwhelmed and humbled. Oh so humbled. Never will she forget the sacrifices made. What would a sorry do? What's done is done. What to do? She decides. Believe again, faith unwavering. Grow and help others grow. She has a story. She will be an influence for good. She will honor what was lost by helping the lost.