A Forever Family

Today was a very special day for our family.  It's not only our 11th wedding anniversary, but it's also the day we went to the Temple to be sealed together for eternity.  This was a very long and difficult journey for me, but it was worth all the roadblocks, speed bumps and years it took to get here.

When I was a teenager, I had several friends that belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  Their wonderful families opened the doors of their homes and hearts to me without hesitation, and in less than a year I was baptized and confirmed a member of the church.

My two closest girlfriends as a teenager were members of the church.  I loved my friend Kim and her huge family.  I was always envious of how many siblings she had and how loving they were towards one another.  Her Mom was incredibly beautiful, her Dad was hilarious, and they were just really really GOOD people.  She has been an amazing example to me and I love her more than she could realize for that.  As a teenager, I spent a great deal of time at my friend Shalina's house.   Her family was wonderful, and I loved them very much.  I also fell head over heels in love with her brother.  I had dreams of a Temple marriage and lots of little Mormon babies.  Her Dad eventually baptized and confirmed me a member of the church.  As time passed, I grew to realize that my dream of an eternal family with this boy was not going to happen, and eventually my heart got broken (shattered is more like it), and I ran.  I ran into the arms of the Navy, and I ran fast and hard.  I also ran away from the church.  I was very sad and felt unworthy.  Being in the church reminded me of the pain of that disappointment and I stopped going.  I cannot fully explain how I felt during that time period, but if you've ever had a broken heart you will understand.  My testimony of the church wasn't as strong as it should have been, because I converted for the wrong reasons.  I converted because I loved the lifestyle of a Mormon family, and I loved the culture, and I wanted to marry a particular Mormon boy in the temple.  It had nothing to do with the gospel itself.  If it had, I would have surely  felt the love of the Savior and would have been able to weather through that storm.  

20 years later, I came back to the church.  The road back was rough, and I took the long way home.

In 2010, my life changed.  I had just retired from the Navy, and had taken the boys to spend the summer with Joe in Virginia.  I got a phone call from Shandi that I will never ever forget.  She was hysterical and I was hysterical, and in the matter of minutes, her life and ours had changed.  Within a week, our other daughter Joneya, 19 and a high school dropout, called us with the news that she was pregnant.  We were overcome with the problems that we were having with our children, and we sat back and wondered where we went so terribly wrong in raising them.  We had done everything right.  We raised them with values and morals, and we raised them with love.  We were good parents.  So what was missing?  

Church.

I was overcome with emotion one morning after Joe had gone to work and the boys were still sleeping. I cried and cried and cried over the problems we were facing with our girls, and I suddenly got the urge to drop to my knees and pray.  I hadn't prayed with that sort of emotion ever in my entire life.  And I remember crying so hard that it was difficult to get up.  But I had gotten somewhere.  I begged God to tell me where I went wrong, and what I could do to change my life so that we could give our boys the spiritual tools they needed to stave off trouble when they were older.  The answer couldn't have been any clearer to me than if my Heavenly Father had put a megaphone up to my ear and screamed at me while beating me on the head with a staff.  I heard in my heart as plain as day "Go Back To Church".  It was so incredibly clear to me at that point and time.  I needed to go back to church.  And I knew exactly what church he meant.

Over the next month, I spent a considerable amount of time in tears and on my knees begging my Heavenly Father for forgiveness for the way I had lived my life the past 20 years.  For all of my sins, my misdeeds and for forsaking the church and him when I was angry with the way my life had unfolded.  One day in solemn and earnest prayer, while I cried yet another day of tears, I felt a warmth wash over me that I immediately recognized as the Holy Spirit, and I can say that it truly jolted my soul.  I realized at that moment that I had missed having the Spirit with me, but more importantly, that the Spirit was back with me.  I knew in my heart that my Father had forgiven me and he knew how badly I needed him and the gospel in my life.  As I got up from my knees that day, I knew without a doubt that I was going back to church and taking my children with me.  I felt at peace with the decision.

Joe came home from work that day, and I sat him down and told him straight up that I was going back to church.  The Mormon Church.  He looked at me like I was insane.  I was determined though, and told him that he did not have to go with us if he didn't want to, but that I was going.  I told him about my prayer and I told him that the message was clear and I was following that prompting.  

A few weeks went by and finally we were back home in Tennessee.  I immediately went up to the attic and found the box with the set of white leather scriptures that my Mother gave me at my baptism.  I began to read the Book of Mormon and pray for the truth.  One Sunday, I dressed the boys up for church, took a deep breath and headed into the chapel.  After five minutes I knew I had made the right decision.  The people were loving, caring and warm.  I felt the Spirit the moment I walked through the door.  Justice loved his classes and his teachers and knew this is where he belonged.  Jack was a mess, so we will skip right over him.  I left church that day with a full heart and a knowledge of the truth for the very first time.  

Joe had started attending church in Virginia, but had not decided quite how he felt about it.  It was so different from the Southern Baptist upbringing he had and from the way he was raised.  Justice quickly threw a wrench in his slow investigation of the church.  Justice was 8 years old and it was time for him to make a decision.  He immediately chose baptism.  He had blossomed in the church and was loving every single minute he spent there.  Then one day, he proclaimed to his Dad:

"I'm not getting baptized unless you are the one that baptizes me".

My husband is the most selfless man on this earth.  As the words fell from Justice's mouth, I thought "uh-oh".  And Joe quietly and very quickly replied "All right, I will do it".  And he quickly began taking the Missionary lessons and within three months he was baptized.  The same day he was baptized, he was ordained into the Aaronic Priesthood and then he baptized Justice.  Two months later he went back in the water and baptized Shandi.  It was a beautiful and amazing time for our family.  

Over the next year, we worked hard to get to the temple.  I love being at church, and I can look back now and see such a change in our family.  As we distanced ourselves from the negative things in our lives, our family grew in the gospel and the scriptures and became closer to our Heavenly Father.  We became full of a love I didn't even know was possible.

That love was realized today as we were sealed as a family for eternity.  As I knelt across from Joe at the altar and looked into his eyes, I was overcome with emotion.  I finally had what I had dreamt about many years ago.  I had my temple marriage.  It took much longer than I had ever dreamt, and there was a time that I had forsaken the dream completely.  It was worth the wait.  I am happily married to the most wonderful man in the world, and I love him and our eternal family more than anything.  To be married to such a strong and selfless man of faith is a blessing that cannot be explained.  I am thankful for him and for the life that we have, and for this eternal family of ours.