The Lord told you to WHAT???

Not long ago, one Sunday morning, I woke up and felt like we should take our kids to see the movie, Miracles from Heaven. It had just come out and I'd heard good things about it, but hadn't decided on a day to go see it.

Our Sundays are so peaceful now that we've quit going to church. It used to seem like World War Three trying to get everyone ready on time. I don't know why there was so much contention. Maybe we're more argumentative in our home than other families. Who knows? I'd like to think we aren't that different, but we do have two teenagers living here, so that tells you something.

Anyway, as the day progressed, and after we'd had our own little worship service, I felt impressed again that we should take our kids to see that movie. Now, I am still steeped in quite a few past traditions I was raised with, one of those being, you DON'T go to movies on Sunday.

I turned to my husband, who was sitting on the bed next to me, and asked how he'd feel about going to see that movie today. He shrugged and said it didn't matter to him. You see, he wasn't raised in the church and had never become fully entrenched in the LDS traditions, and there were a lot of things he didn't agree with during the time of his "active" status. At the time, I took what I could get and I was just grateful he'd be active with me at all--and he was... for 13 long years without a complaint.

I decided to pray about it--which has become my go-to about anything I don't "get". I got the same answer. "Take your kids to see this movie and take them today." I answered by saying that it wasn't keeping the Sabbath day holy to go to the movies on Sunday, and the Spirit, who is ever patient with me, repeated himself.

So, with my heart fluttering in fear--because seriously folks--it was scary doing something like this that I had been taught from my first moments of life--was wrong. We hopped in the car and went to the theater!

I actually hoped I wouldn't see anyone else I knew there! How stupid, since if I did see someone I knew, they'd be "sinning" too! We all settled into our seats with our treats and I remember having this totally giddy feeling. I can't really describe it other than to say I felt so good, so free, so happy, being there. Like this was "right". Even though I'd fought my traditions the whole way, I knew we were being obedient.

There aren't words to describe how I felt during that movie, how "moving" it was for all of us. There wasn't a dry eye in the house, especially mine. If you haven't seen it, rent it for sure! It's not in theaters anymore, but it might be out in DVD.

But that's not the end of this cool adventure. The Lord wasn't through teaching me! 

On the ride home, we were all so happy, giggling even, talking about our favorite parts of the show, when my 14 yr old daughter said to me, "I'd like a cross necklace of my own. Like the girl in the movie."

My heart stopped right there! We don't wear crosses in our church! Wait a minute. I'm not in that church anymore. I don't need to abide by it's rules... or did I on this one?

If you haven't seen it, there is a scene where the main character, a very sick little girl who is dying of a rare digestive illness, takes off her cross necklace. Her mom hangs it on the IV pole as she's about to go to have an MRI. Her roommate, another very sick little girl who has cancer, asks her why she wears the cross. (she's atheist and has no idea what the cross represents to the little girl)  The girl, (sorry, I can't remember names) with the stomach problems says... and here's the part I love... "I wear it because it reminds me that God is always with me."

Such a powerful moment in the movie. 

My knee jerk reaction to my daughter was to tell her no, but the spirit stopped me, asking me, "What's wrong with wearing a cross?" Well, the reason the church gave me from the time I could speak didn't seem like a valid reason to me anymore. Yes, we focus on Christ's life and not his death, yada, yada, yada, but I had the feeling that there was more to it. Of course, He didn't just give me the answers. I had to figure it out for myself. 

I texted Adrien Larsen and asked him if he knew. He wasn't totally sure, but did tell me that the cross was common decor in early LDS church buildings and that it's use diminished in the early 1900's because of cultural belief. 

So, I dove in, looking up where our aversion to the cross came from. I learned that it did start in the early 1900's with a president of the church (seriously can't remember which one now. You'll have to look it up if you want the details. I told you I had serious memory issues! LOL) who didn't want us associated with the Catholic Church AT ALL. He publicly called them the Whore of all the Earth and started the new rule that we should not wear crosses anymore--that it was the mark of the beast! I learned in my research that many early apostles were buried with a cross on their caskets. Wow! Here is an interesting article I found in my research. Read it at your leisure HERE.

And if Joseph Smith didn't have an issue with the cross, then I wouldn't either anymore! 

Easier said than done.

I prayed about what I'd learned, asking for the Lord's advice at this point. He told me that if my daughter wanted a cross, and it made her think of Him, and reminded her that He was ALWAYS with her, then she should wear it. The cross is the universal symbol of Christianity and if one person wants to give it the meaning of death, torture, and agony, that's their prerogative. If it means to someone else, life, resurrection, and the sacrifice of the Lord, then great!

I told my daughter she could absolutely have a cross and we went about the job of finding the perfect one. She now wears it all the time. She loves it and it makes her feel connected to the Savior in a way she needed. 

I own a cross too. I've owned it from the time I was born. My aunt, who belonged to some Pentecostal church I don't remember the name of, gave it to me at the time of my birth. It's meant for a newborn, so the cross is tiny, silver, and extremely beautiful. I never wore it once in 45 years. I wear it all the time now. 

Here's the thing. I still have hangups about wearing it. I'm trying to get over them, but I feel self conscious when I have it on, wondering what my "Mormon" friends will think if they see me. I used to be one of them. I know how it is. I know how they think, and I don't like people condemning me. (yes, it's one of my weaknesses. I'm well aware). 

We are all SO judgmental. It's automatic. Even among those of us who have left the church in search of more truth and light. We pick each other apart if we don't understand another's witness. I mean, how do you argue when someone says, "the Lord told me to do this?" How can we say, "No he didn't! He'd never say that!" How do we know what he'd say? 

"My ways are not your ways. My thoughts are not your thoughts." (something to remember)

My cross means a few different things to me. It reminds me that the Lord is always with me. It reminds me of his sacrifice. It reminds me of all I left behind when I left the church. The good and the bad. It reminds me of what I'm searching for and hoping to find--A face to face with the Savior. And last of all, it reminds me of how much I used to judge people who were different from me, how much I still judge people, and how I hope to stop doing that. The Lord teaches us all in individual ways. He gives us the lessons we need in the way we need them. 

Let's cast off our judgments and just love one another... it's one of the greatest commandments, after all.

And don't come back unless you repent!

I was mowing the lawn one Saturday evening a year ago (my husband was out there with me weed-eating) when the entire bishopric showed up at our house and handed over a letter sealed in an envelope. They didn't stay to visit, to ask how we were, or anything else. They got back into their car and drove away as we stood there in confusion, staring after them.

We went inside and read the letter together. It was a letter from our bishop. This is what it said.

          "Because we have been unable to get together, I feel it necessary to write 

            this letter. I am deeply concerned about you and the direction you have 

            taken. I would sincerely like to meet with you and discuss your concerns, 

            and until we do, I need to counsel you to refrain from sharing your new 

            found beliefs in church meetings or with members or non-members within 

            or outside the ward. You are welcome to attend as long as your 

            conduct and comments do not cause disruption and are consistent 

            with established church doctrine. Failure to heed this counsel can 

            be considered apostasy and would be cause for disciplinary action.

            I hope you realize what you stand to lose if you persist in following the 

            teachings of an apostate. You could lose the blessings of an 

            eternal family, temple blessings, priesthood, and even your membership 

            in the church.

            I encourage you to come meet with me as quickly as possible and hopefully 

            we will be able to work through these issues.

            Sincerely, Bishop --------- "

Here's the funny thing. In the year and a half preceding this letter, I'd never caused a disruption, argued, or talked about my "new found" views with anyone at church. I hadn't really gone to church much as I'd been so sick. I was shocked that he thought he could tell us not to discuss our beliefs with anyone out of the ward or anyone not a member, let alone those in the church. That's basically the whole world. I laugh just thinking about it. I did write back. 

Dear Bishop                                                                                                    May 12, 2015

We sure appreciate your concern for us, but this is getting blown way out of proportion. I think we should clear things up, so there is no misunderstanding. We are not following anyone but the Savior, and him alone. We do not follow Denver Snuffer. We don’t associate with him. We don’t give him money, and we have nothing to do with him. We just had serious questions and he was able to answer some of them in the books he wrote. Instead of condemning us and assuming things, maybe you should take the time to read what he actually wrote. He has vast knowledge of the Book of Mormon and has made me fall in love with that book more than at any other time in my life. I feel closer to the Savior than I ever have. My life has completely changed and I feel God’s love so fully and profoundly that it cannot be denied. We have experienced many miracles recently and it is all because we went in search of the Savior and we found him.

 I don’t know where you are getting the idea that we believe in anything else. We have not come in to meet with you because we know there is no point. You won’t listen to what we have to say, we know. There should be plenty of room in the church for slight variances of belief. Are we supposed to be sheep? We can’t study on our own and learn doctrine that isn’t discussed in Sunday school?

And even if we were wrong, threatening to excommunicate us for discussing our profound love of the Savior with anyone outside the church or outside our neighborhood is completely out of line.

Anyway, I like the way Joseph Smith said it best…

"I do not like the old man being called up for erring in doctrine. It looks too much like the Methodists and not like the latter-day-saints. Methodists have creeds which a man must believe or be kicked out of their church. I want the liberty of thinking and believing as I please. It feels so good not to be trammeled." Joseph Smith

We aren’t out to cause problems or create drama. We haven’t done anything to warrant what feels like persecution and threats. I have been a member of this church for forty-four years and I’ve never felt singled out like this, just because I may think a verse in the Book of Mormon may mean something different than someone else. I love the gospel. I love the Book of Mormon. I am not afraid of my church’s history or studying Joseph Smith’s words. For too long they have been hidden. I love learning and I intend to “search out the best books and learn” all I can before I die.

Okay, so I probably made a mistake using the term "sheep", because in the letter I received back from the bishop, he jumped all over that, saying we should be like sheep. The Savior's sheep etc...  Anyway, I'm not going to get into that, but after receiving that second letter, my husband went over to the bishop's house and nicely told him to leave us alone. 

And he has.

So, we are not excommunicated as of yet. We haven't resigned either. Mainly because that seems like a lot of work and would take energy I don't have. I just don't care enough to do it. I don't feel like a Mormon anymore. I don't subscribe to the church anymore. It isn't something I care about anymore. I'm tired of being a square peg pushed, shoved, and hammered into a round hole. I'm done. Completely. My husband feels the same, thank heaven. 

Here's to moving forward.

As I went down in the river to pray

I know there are a lot of people, who when they begin this particular spiritual journey, wonder "when" they should be re-baptized. They have a testimony of the Savior, the Book of Mormon and the many things that are being opened up to them in that marvelous book, most have read Denver Snuffer's books and know of his admonishment, as well as the Lord's to be re-baptized, but often, we wait for a sign from heaven. 

But most of that time, the sign comes after the obedience, which totally sucks.



I wonder if it's fear holding people back. True-blue, unadulterated fear. Are they holding onto friends and family who they don't want to disappoint? Are they afraid their reputations would be ruined if anyone found out? They would be. Maybe it's that they don't want their neighbors to know they're "apostates." And they probably don't want to put all these people, who they love, through the agony of their excommunication. But are those good enough reasons to hold back, waiting? Is your excuse that the Lord hasn't told you specifically to be re-baptized? 

May I be bold and say, yes he has. Many times over. Every time you read the scriptures and every time you listen to Denver speak.

This post is for the scardy-cats. 

I was one of the scardy-cats. I didn't want to ruin a good thing, and I had a good reputation in our ward until my son came home early from his mission. I was respected by friends and liked being looked up to. 

This post is the story of how I escaped the garbage of fear and doubt and was finally re-baptized.

I'd had a feeling for a long while that I should do it, but I told the Lord it just wasn't working out. There was nowhere to BE baptized that wasn't FULL of people, and I wanted my baptism to be beautiful and sacred, without a large audience. Honestly, if I were telling the whole truth, there was a piece of my heart that was embarrassed to be seen being baptized in this area of over-populated Mormons. What would they think???

I spent months in this debate.

Then, in June of last year, my sister who lives on Maui called me and said, "I'm bored, lonely, and depressed. I'm buying your ticket and you're coming to visit." My first reaction was that I couldn't go to Hawaii! I was too sick still. I didn't have the energy. I had to do daily detox cleanses and it was just too hard, but something inside me told me I needed to do this, so with a leap of faith, I said okay.

After I had made the decision to go, the ever-pressing need to be baptized magnified. I had the thought, wouldn't it be cool to be baptized there? Why, yes it would, the Lord seemed to say. I didn't know anyone there who was like me in my "new-found" beliefs, and neither did my sister who doesn't think anything like me spiritually or religiously, and hasn't been active in the church for years and years.

I got on LDS Remnant on facebook and asked if anyone knew of someone in Hawaii who could baptize me. I didn't expect much to happen, and honestly, I was afraid someone WOULD know who could baptize me there. I was still letting fear dictate my life. I'm sure there are a few of you out there who know what I mean. And wouldn't you know it? There was a man there who could do it. Except the guy didn't live on Maui. He lived on the big island. Well, dang. Guess I couldn't be baptized after all.

The Lord had other ideas and told me to contact him anyway, so I obeyed. He (we'll call him George) was overjoyed to do this for me. At first, we tried to figure out ways to get my sister and me over to the big island, but I just couldn't afford two tickets there. I didn't have much money, most of my money had gone toward medical expenses. I was dirt poor. And then George offered to fly to Maui. He and I had frequent phone calls trying to work things outs, flights etc... But something inside kept losing faith and kept telling me I should just let it go. Cancel the whole thing. It was too hard and too much work and I didn't have the money to pay for George's ticket to Maui. I later found out that the Lord told George not to offer to pay, because I needed to learn sacrifice if I really wanted to make this happen. Funny thing, He'd told me the same thing in a very humbling moment of prayer. I tended to give up if things got too hard, but Jesus wasn't about to me do that this time. I DID want this to happen. The closer it got, the more I desperately wanted it to happen.

George did the bulk of the work, trying to find a flight that would bring him to Maui and have it fit both our schedules and be one I could afford (he was about to leave for the states, but before I'd even called him, he was going to get a ticket for July 3rd, a Friday, but the spirit had told him to go on the Sunday instead. George had thought it strange at the time, but had obeyed and had bought his ticket for the states for the 5th instead.)

And then I'd called him! It was an amazing testimony that things are NOT random. That the Lord DOES make things happen on schedule when we let him! 

We booked the flight and I paid for it, (keeping my fingers crossed that my husband wouldn't kill me for spending more money) I was so scared and excited. My baptism would be on July, 3rd, the only day George and I could get together. The day he had originally wanted to leave for the states. 

George asked me where I wanted the baptism to take place. I had no idea. I didn't know Hawaii at all. Now I know a ton of places, but he said he knew one that would be perfect.

When we picked him up at the airport and I met George for the first time, I was blown away by how loving he was. Never had I met anyone (and I'm not kidding) who reminded me so much of the Savior. He was so kind and non-judgmental. He was also drop dead gorgeous and hard to not stare at. A Greek god. Seriously. My sister, who was single at the time, nearly fell over her feet, all gaga for him. Thank heavens he took it in stride!

He asked if we could stop at the store to buy bread and wine, so of course we did that. I'd never taken the sacrament with wine before. He bought kosher wine and a special kind of bread that I can't remember the name of. (One of those stupid forgetful brain things).

We drove the the Iao Valley National Park, which is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. To the Hawaiians, it's a sacred, very holy place, where their kings and queens are buried. I couldn't think of a better place to have my baptism, except for one problem....

It was the 4th of July weekend and everyone was out to enjoy a good time.

George said not to worry, that the Lord would provide and had shown him exactly where we should do the baptism. George had been to the Iao Valley before, so I trusted him and followed him down the lush, green path. It wasn't long before we detoured off the path that went in direct violation to the signs posted that said to "stay on the path". George didn't seem to mind that we were breaking the rules. We hiked over to where the stream cuts through the woods, like you see in these pictures and I'd never seen anything so beautiful and peaceful. Except when we stepped out into the clearing, in the spot George had said the Lord had shown him, it was full of people! 

For a split second I panicked.

All George said was, "Huh. I'd thought for sure this was the spot." He turned without a second thought and followed the stream down (not on a path, if I remember right) over logs and boulders. A few minutes later we stepped out into a beautiful location. Not a soul in sight, which was miraculous in itself. 

Right before us lay the perfect font. George stopped and said, "This is it. This is the place the Lord showed me." You see, even George had made a mistake. He had assumed he "knew" the Lord's thoughts, knew exactly what He'd meant--that water hole up the stream. But God had intended a different location all the time. It's a mistake all of us frequently make--assuming we understand things completely. But the Savior lovingly pointed us to where we were really supposed to go and when we made it there, the spirit confirmed that this was where we should be. It was truly an amazing experience I can hardly put into words.

 This is an actual photo I took of the spot. It's much deeper than it looks.

The exact depth it needed to be. About three and a half feet.

A cool thing is, that almost ALWAYS at that time of day, in the afternoon, the Iao Valley clouds over and it rains. It's seldom that it doesn't happen, but when we stepped out into the correct spot, there was literally a pillar of light shining through the clouds onto the pool of water where we were going to perform the baptism. The rest of the stream was in shadow. This is a photo of that moment. (I have pics of the actual baptism and a bunch with all of us who were there, but I feel impressed to keep them private)

Let me sidestep for a second. My sister has a friend, who when she heard (because my sis has kind of a loud mouth and announced it to everyone) that I was going to renew my vows to the Savior, she wanted to come. My first was reaction was to say no. This was supposed to be a special experience! Sacred and reverent and this friend was anything but! She was older, yet wore teeny-tiny mini skirts and very revealing tops. She smoked a lot and drank even more. (yes, I realize how judgemental this sounds, but I'm trying to be honest)
I didn't want her there, but before I could open MY big mouth, the Lord told me to let her come. 

He is much wiser than I.

So, there the four of us were, on the edge of heaven, sitting on the shores of this beautiful stream. George broke the break and poured the wine and blessed it. We all took the sacrament together. The emotions flowing through me were overwhelming. So powerful that I couldn't stop the tears from streaming down my face at the gift I was being given. I didn't deserve it. 

George asked me to share why I was doing this, so I did, my heart overflowing with the peace and love for these three people with me. A love that was unexplainable, but powerful. Then my sister shared her feelings, (all unplanned) and they were beautiful. Then her friend, who was born and raised Catholic asked if she could share. She told us how grateful she was that I had allowed her to come, that she'd needed this, that she didn't have many spiritual experiences in her life, and then she shared the story of her miraculous healing from epilepsy when she was young. It was truly amazing and had us in tears again. Her experience had solidified her testimony of the Savior. 

I was so grateful the Lord had known better and had wanted her there with us. She added to the spirit of the occasion more than words can express and I was brought to my knees in shame for having initially not wanting her to come. 

Then George led me down into the water. He held is arm to the square--this beautiful soul who looked just like a Nephite Warrior. And then he prayed, asking God to give him the authority to perform my baptism. The spirit surrounding us was so thick you could cut it. And then he dipped me below the water, washing away my doubts, my fears, my past, my sins. 

I don't remember feeling a "baptism of fire" when I came up. I only remember seeing the sun shining down on us and feeling so happy. Happier than I had for a long time. I left that experience, knowing it was right, that it was a gift, that too many miraculous things had happened to make it turn out, to be a coincidence. 

The Lord wants us to be baptized. He has commanded us to do it, to re-commit. Don't let anything stop you. Not the church, your friends, or your family. Don't purposely hold yourself back, which was what I'd been doing. The Lord had specifically told me that I would not move forward and have more spiritual experiences--like I was begging him for--until I did this. Since that time, last July, I can't even tell you how much I've grown. How easily his voice comes to me. How easily I hear his commands and feel inspiration. Greater things are coming. I know this. And I can't wait.

Be true and faithful. Not afraid. Be not ashamed, like I had been. Once you make the commitment to do it, the Lord will do the rest.

Sent home a disgrace

I was perfectly content living in the middle.

By that I mean, believing what Denver Snuffer had taught me in his books, having spiritual experiences myself, AND being an active Latter Day Saint. I was a stellar member and would comment regularly in Gospel Doctrine and Relief Society, trying to help people open their minds and souls to the spirit. I was still a believer and drew self esteem from being popular among my friends and "looking good" to the fine people of my ward--all the while secretly studying forbidden doctrine.

When my son came of age to serve a mission, he had is own experiences that changed his mind from not wanting to serve at all to feeling impressed that he should go.

I was beyond excited! Especially since I'd served a mission myself. I was familiar with all the great things he would experience. I knew the friendships he would make, the families whose lives he would affect. Plus, it made me feel like a successful parent, having my oldest child serve a mission. I liked the feeling it gave me, having a missionary I could brag about. (I'm being brutally honest here... obviously)

I'm going to take a quick detour for a moment.

From the very beginning, I felt like my bishop didn't like me. When I taught Gospel Doctrine, ( a few years before I got sick) he would sit on the front row, frowning at me, like his disapproved of the way I taught. I liked my class to be deep and interesting and long before I found Denver, I was asking hard questions of my class, trying to get them to dig deep and find difficult answers. I frequently received praise for my lessons. One high councilman personally requested my ward so he could attend my class. I'm not saying this to brag, although it did make me feel really good, but to paint a picture of the good that was happening in our ward. I liked pushing the envelope. I like asking uncomfortable questions and I really liked helping people find the darkness inside and eradicating it. I liked being up front and leading the discussions, and I REALLY loved the praise I received. In a way, I needed it, feeling like I needed to be good at something. Anyway, my bishop--before he was my bishop--did not appreciate my technique and style. Like I said, he frequently sat on the front row frowning. He's a scriptorian. Has the scriptures practically memorized, and I don't think he appreciated my interpretations.

When he was announced as our new bishop, the spirit told me right in that moment that I would be released, and it would happen really soon. I didn't believe it. I'd barely been in a year. But exactly two weeks later I was released. I couldn't believe it. This was the beginning of a downhill slide for our family.

I don't hold anything against our bishop--anymore--but for a while there, it was really hard to not feel angry about everything we experienced where he was concerned. Our interviews were stilted and uncomfortable--he actually sat and played with his ipad for 15 minutes while we waited for our son to arrive at the interview. He'd been caught in traffic on the way home from work. My husband and I sat in silence in his office, waiting and waiting, with no conversation, no small talk. Nothing. Pure silence. It was at the moment--the last straw, the cherry on top--that I vowed never to have an interview with him again, and that was BEFORE all of the Denver mess.

My son, who was preparing to serve a mission felt even less liked. Interviews for him were dreaded and the bishop made him feel like he was lacking or unqualified at every turn.

But my son persevered and I was so proud of him!

On his mission, with his second companion, he really struggled. His comp would 't leave their apartment until five in the evening since that is when men came home from work and they couldn't teach women, so for the whole day, my son was stuck at home, trying to find ways to entertain himself. He spent most of the time studying, for hours and hours. He asked me to send him material to read and so I did. I bought him Removing the Condemnation and sent him articles from Adrien Larson's blog--To the Remnant. He absolutely soaked it up like a rain-starved desert plant.

The problems came when he tried to teach his district the lesson "Feeling and Fooling the Spirit" that Adrien had written about. It was the most powerful post my son had ever read and he couldn't stop talking about it. His comp began to tattle on him to the president at every turn. My son had multiple interviews that grew more and more uncomfortable as time went on. Finally, he was accused of being an apostate and if he didn't stop all this nonsense and repent, he'd be sent home. One of the many issues was that my son refused to say he thought Pres. Monson was a prophet. Imagine how that went over.

My son called and told me of all the terrible things that were going on, and that he would probably be coming home soon. His president told him that he was to watch general conference and then they would talk again after. Literally, the next day, five days before conference, he was called into the president's office and was grilled for more information about Denver Snuffer. My son ended up just telling his pres that he wanted to go home, and that after he admitted it out loud, the spirit confirmed to him that it was the correct thing to do.

I called his president myself. The man was a stickler for the rules, didn't let the missionaries hand out Books of Mormon until the second discussion (of which there were few because it was super hard to even get a first discussion), he would only let them do four hours of service a week, and the missionary handbook was their book of scripture. He told me all of the things my boy was doing wrong, and I informed him that I couldn't be prouder of the mission my son had served so far, and that as far as I was concerned, he was coming home a success.

My son only wanted to serve. Really serve the people in his mission. He wanted to teach straight from the Book of Mormon, like missionaries in Joseph Smith's time, but he wasn't allowed to. And if he tried, his comp would turn him in with every offense. It was so difficult for him and super depressing.

When my son came home two days later, our entire family--aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents--were at the airport with posters and balloons, cheering at the bottom of the escalators. You see, no one in my family is active and no one in my husband's family is a member, so nobody thought my son coming home early was anything but wonderful! As soon as he saw us, the tears began. He couldn't believe we were all there for him. He'd actually thought he would have to slink out of the airport a disgrace. Not my boy!!!

His coming home early kicked us out of the closet though! Neither our bishop nor stake president had ever heard of Denver Snuffer, but that quickly changed and we started getting regular phone calls from both of them, asking us to come in for interviews.

The first one, only my husband went to. At that time, he turned in his temple recommend, saying, "If my son isn't worthy to teach, then neither am I." (he was an elder's quorum teacher at the time.) When we quit paying our tithing to the church, mine was also revoked. We didn't go to any more interviews. I just didn't want to. I was tired of the drama and I'd seen so many people get excommunicated that I didn't want to put my kids through that at the time. I didn't want to go through that at the time either.

I'd like to say it all turned out butterflies and roses, but the truth is much more heartbreaking.

My son was singled out an embarrassed in our own ward, so he decided to go to a singles ward. As soon as he walked in those doors the next week (literally) the bishop grabbed him and took him to his office for an interview and started grilling him about being an apostate. Our bishop had called him and explained the whole thing.

I was heartbroken.

We quit going to church at all and starting having our own little worship service in our living room with just our family. It was beautiful and wonderful and frequently brought tears to my eyes, the spirit was so powerful. But when my son left for school, he grew angrier and angrier at the church and further and further away from the spirit.

Now, it's an argument when I try to talk about spiritual things with him. He gets mad and accuses me of forcing it on him. His heart has hardened and I don't know how to help him other than to pray. I ache for him and our relationship which is starting to feel more and more broken as time goes by because I don't want to let go and nag too much. It is taking a lot of faith to let go of this and hand it over to the Lord and most of the time, I'm unsuccessful at it.

Anyway, I've come to peace with a lot of things. We've found a wonderful community to meet with once a month and we love them (although our son doesn't attend with us.) We were also all re-baptized last week, (my second time) which was wonderful, but he didn't do that with us either.) I'll tell you more about those experiences in a different post.

The moral of this story--because I like to end with something people can take with them into their own lives--is that it doesn't always turn out how we expect it to or want it to. Not just with the church or our wards, but with our own children, brothers and sisters, and parents. It's a learning experience and the only thing we can do is stay faithful to the Lord, because if he sees us to it, he will see us through it.

A miraculous healing

I've changed my mind. I want to keep things in order and the next thing that happened for me was a healing.

Something I need to make clear is that I have a terrible memory. I don't say this with self-deprecating humor. I'm not old. I'm only 45. It's because my illness literally pretty much wiped the hard drive in my head clean. Yep. I had a total reboot and there are many things I can't remember anymore. My short term memory is still pretty iffy too, which is frustrating because when I want to talk about my bursting testimony I can't remember deatils! It's beyond embarrassing, because I don't want to say, "I studied this, and I know it's a fact, documented somewhere, but I can't remember who said it, where I read it, or where you can find it yourself!"

Anyway, I was sitting at the computer one day, just surfing somewhere (seriously can't remember if I was on facebook or what) But I found information about "inhaling hydrogen peroxide." It stopped me for a minute and the spirit said to me in a very calm tone, "You should try that."

My first thought was, "Are you freaking kidding me? That can't be healthy."

But something prompted me to study it out further, so I did, watching a ton of different videos on youtube. And then I figured, what the heck? What do I have to lose at this point? But let me just say, it terrified me to try it. Truly. What if it destroyed my lungs or worse???

Long story short. Within a month and a half, my illness was gone. Totally. And it has never come back and that was two years ago.

I still have issues to deal with. It wasn't a total healing, which I do pray for still. I want Jesus to come down and pronounced me whole. I want to be able to hop out of bed and go running like I used to and gave energy to do more than laundry. As it is, I roll out of bed slowly, fill my water bottle up to the top, and then sit in bed drinking water until my body feels like it wants to function, while my husband makes breakfast for the kids and mainly gets them off to school. They do quite a bit of getting ready in my bathroom, so I can dole out orders when I need to, but my situation isn't ideal.

At least I'm in the healing stage rather than the degenerative stage. I'll take it. And things ARE getting better. For the first time in a very long time, I walked two miles! A HUGE milestone! And I pray the entire time I'm walking, praising God for the miracle of being able to walk at all.

From the time of my healing on, I told everyone about my miracle and the amazing spiritual experiences I was having, where I felt the spirit communicating with me on a level I'd never felt before. My kids can't even lie to me anymore! Seriously, ninety-nine percent of the time, I can tell when they're lying. They hate it and actually get mad at the Holy Ghost for tattling on them. When it happens and they say some lie, I'll look them right in the eyes and say, "The Holy Ghost just told me you're lying. Spit out the truth, buster." Not that they lie all the time, but they are kids.

Healing has been slow, but I know it happened this way to teach me some very valuable lessons I needed. I'm a very slow learner, which shows just how wise the Savior is, doing it this way, keeping me humble and submissive and wanting more. Maybe a better person could have handled a complete and total healing. I need weakness to force me to cry out to Jesus.

And in honor of that line, here is a song I absolutely love.

The Beginning of my Journey

I'm nobody special. At least, no more special than anyone else. But my story may help somebody else, so I'm putting it out there.

No long ago I suffered--and I mean suffered--from a terrible illness that left me weak and utterly fatigued, constantly nauseous, pretty much brain dead, and super emotional. I was bedridden for about three years. I am telling you, my situation felt bleak.

I'm not going to tell you what my illness was because it doesn't matter and I don't want it to be the focus of this blog. Let's just say I was in the depths of misery.

To keep my liver from being overloaded from toxins from this illness and having liver damage, I did the coffee enema cleanse (and it was the ONLY thing that could detox me fast enough or well enough) twice a day at least. It was the first thing I did in the morning. Every day.

This means I laid on my bathroom floor (with towels and pillows etc...) every day, twice a day, for three years or more. In fact, I'm just barely able to wean myself from them, because yes, I did sustain some liver damage.

Is was in those moments I would feel most lost, depressed, and hopeless. Many times I would lie there and cry... and cry... and cry, hoping this was not really my life. I couldn't imagine going on like this until the day I died--which didn't feel far off.

A friend came over one night unannounced--which was a good thing because my illness had made me a recluse and had given me terrible anxiety about EVERYTHING. I could hardly function and I did not like visitors even though I was terribly lonely. Anyway, this friend just sat and visited with my husband and me about a book he'd read and how much it had changed his life. The book was written by Denver Snuffer. I'd never heard of him and even though the conversation had been interesting and something different in my miserable life, I wasn't interested in reading anything. My brain was hardly functioning as it was. I got brain fatigued really fast, couldn't stand stimulation, loud music, TV, and had become SUPER forgetful, and.... I could go on and on. You get the picture.

At the time, my family was active LDS. I'll go more into our history with a different post, but at this time, I had no desire to read a religious book by someone I didn't know. And I mean NO desire.

The thing was, as the week went by, I felt nagged by the Spirit to go over and borrow that book. It would NOT leave my mind, and so I finally cried uncle and texted my friend, asking if I could borrow his book, Passing the Heavenly Gift. 

Here's the thing. He didn't have his copy at the moment. He'd loaned it out to someone else, but he did have another one of Denver's books I could read. Removing the Condemnation. I opened it up and found it to be a super intensive study guide about The Book of Mormon with teeny tiny words.

That was not what I wanted.

But I took it, thanked my friend, and promised myself I would at least try to read it. The best time for me to read was during my cleanse while I laid on the floor, so for the next short while, that is what I did. I absolutely soaked it up. It was amazing! Why had no one ever taught this to me before? I was a returned missionary for Pete's sake!!! I should know what The B of M taught. But I was learning things, layer beneath layer, of that wonderful book, that I'd never known before. This information was amazing and I needed more!

I searched Amazon for other books by Denver and found them. I bought The Second Comforter and Passing the Heavenly Gift. From that moment on, I was hooked. Never had I experienced the Spirit in such a powerful way before, never had I been taught like this and my testimony of the Savior soared!

I learned quickly that Denver was not someone to brag about if I didn't want trouble, but I was so excited it was hard not to. It wasn't long after that I heard he'd gotten excommunicated for writing PTHG.

My life became one wild roller coaster from that moment on. I started studying blogs to help feed my spirit (besides reading DS books). Pure Mormonism, To the Remnant, According to Smoot, My Journey to the Fullness, Journey to the Fullness, and others. Look for them.

Anyway, I'm going to keep this short.I'll tell you about my miraculous healing in my next post. And it truly was miraculous, and then I'll tell you about my son who was sent home from his mission early, but it's too much to write now. I'm feeling brain tired.

But this was how it started for me and it has been a wild ride ever since.