There Is A Difference!

This story was shared by a good friend. 

Worth the read.... read to the end.

November 20, 2013 · by degnacademy

My oldest daughter reminded me this week that it has been exactly one year since we had our first missionary discussions with missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It touched my heart that she remembered the date, as I had been thinking about it as well. We weren’t always Mormon. I was a convert to the church when I had just turned twenty years old, working at Yellowstone National Park one summer.  I met my husband working at the Old Faithful Inn that season, and we were married in the Salt Lake City Temple a year later. We had a beautiful life as very active members of the church, and raised our family living in a various areas of the country. My husband served in the Army, and my faith helped me endure his deployments and challenges during that time. We were blessed with five sweet children, and I was content.

When I had been a member of the Mormon Church for almost thirteen years, I was bothered that I was the only member on my side of the family. I began to doubt my faith, and I started to wonder if I would have felt that same closeness to Heavenly Father if I had joined another religion. I could not deny the feelings and spiritual experiences I had over the years, but I imagined that maybe I would have felt these things in any religion. The night before my husband was to deploy to the Middle East, we were talking about my doubts. As I verbalized how I felt, I made a decision and told my sweet husband that I was leaving the Mormon Church. He was shocked, and didn’t know how to respond. My husband’s family has roots that run deep in the Pioneer stock of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. The idea of leaving the church was never something he had considered. My husband grew up with his faith, and served a two year mission at the age of 19. These experiences had given him a testimony of the truth he found there. He knew I was serious though, and I had always been stubborn. I think he knew this was a path I was going to take regardless of his protests. He deployed the next day to Iraq. The timing was terrible. We communicated by email and letters, and an occasional phone call home. My doubts put cracks in his faith, and although he never came to the conclusions I did at the time, he became content to follow me in exploring other religions. We were never baptized in the other churches we went to over the years, as we never felt a genuine belief in any of them. That didn’t stop us from searching though.

When I first left the Mormon Church, I was determined to find the same spiritual fulfillment elsewhere. I tried to take on the other traditions, and pondered other beliefs within Christianity. It seemed to me that it was simply a matter of adapting, and then I would feel those promptings of the Spirit that had affected me so often before. We went to beautiful churches, and heard inspiring messages at each one. I felt uplifted many times, but not moved in the way I had been within the Mormon faith. I did as much as I could to distance myself from our Mormon background. I even became a Starbucks Barista during the kid’s school hours, while waiting for my turn to get into my college RN program to become a nurse. I made sure to steer clear of the Mormon mothers on the PTA at school, and made sure the kids knew those Mormon children in their classes would only try to convert them. We were fairly successful at creating a barrier between us and any contact with the LDS Church besides family. And our family was fantastic over time, as they were convinced we would never return to the church. They showed us love and respect, and tried not to offend us with their beliefs. My husband’s sweet parents allowed me to tell them how I felt about the church, and about them leaving on their third couple’s mission to be MTC presidents in Sao Paulo, Brazil. I was less than supportive to be sure, and let them know it. Grace would be a good description of how they handled my opinions.

As time passed, I basically stopped looking for answers, and assumed nobody had them. I started to doubt Christianity as a whole. I felt distant from my Heavenly Father, and like a bit of a fraud when I prayed. So in time, I stopped praying as frequently, and at times didn’t pray at all. During these years, I was determined that my decision to leave the Mormon church had been right. I did not doubt that at all. Eventually I stopped wondering why I didn’t feel the Spiritual witness of truth in other churches and distance from my Heavenly Father. Somewhere along the way, I forgot what that even felt like.

These were not sad years for our family, as we didn’t consider what we were missing. We found joy in the closeness of our family, and touched daily by the love we have for each other. We focused on our family traditions, and our time together. I became a Registered Nurse, and my husband continued to work in his field. Our main focus was time with the family, and we spent countless hours hiking and camping together. My husband and I would talk about how maybe we would never find answers to our religious questions. There were times when we wondered how our children would find answers someday, or spouses that shared their moral values. It never crossed my mind that these morals had been shaped by the LDS faith that formed me as a mother to them. I was too busy convincing myself I had been right to leave the church to admit that I was still teaching my children the same values the Mormon faith teaches. And this is where I was at spiritually when everything changed for me.

A year ago this month, I had a spiritual prompting that I was wrong about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. These feelings came over me right after the presidential election. I had been telling everyone I knew that we certainly did not want a Mormon president, so I was expecting to feel relief when Romney lost. Instead I felt sickness and guilt for my blind judgements of the faith. I found myself feeling pulled towards the church and at first I tried to deny it. I had no desire to return to the Mormon church, and my mind was content to remain where we were in life. I could not put off the promptings for long though, and was moved to pray about it. I can not put into words the witness of the Spirit that I received. It changed my heart towards this faith in a moment. I received feelings of my testimony that first converted me to the faith years before, and was enhanced by a stronger conversion of truths that I had learned since. Leaving the church showed me how to discern the spirit clearly, and how to recognize truth. I suddenly realized a clearer picture of what my journey outside the church was, and what I had actually learned along the way. There is a difference in having a good life, and being uplifted, than when you feel a fullness of the gospel. I am grateful for Heavenly Father’s patience with me, and for moving me so deeply to find answers I had stopped looking for. There is goodness in many places and ways to live, but there is a fullness of joy in being enveloped in His Gospel.

Our family had the missionary discussions with Elder Durrant and Elder Steadman of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. We invited them to our home, living on Fidalgo Island in Washington State at the time. The miracle was the way that our entire family received the message. We had left the church entirely, and removed our names from the rolls of the LDS church. So when we were all ready, we were baptized as a family by my wonderful brother-in-law. Happiness does not begin to describe the feelings of that day.

So You Want To Do What I Am Doing?

Hey, I know many of you have expressed a desire to do what I am doing. You are "looking forward to the day when...". But you don't have to wait. I shared the gospel just as much before my mission... and I plan to share the gospel just as much after my mission. 

My friend, Amy, had the same experience (sharing without the official call) and found "joy" spreading the true gospel of Jesus Christ. She has given me permission to share this with you. This was a story published recently. Enjoy! and I promise you that it will inspire!

“GIVE THEM YOUR DINNER”

Hastening the Work

            The year of 2012 was full of humbling adversity for our family. Through faith, repentance and obedience to the charge to be a member missionary, our family has felt the healing power of the Atonement.  In July 2013, The full-time Elders from our ward ate dinner with our family. As dauntless Elder Avanesyan, from Armenia, challenged us to pray for a missionary experience, I felt the Spirit speak clearly to me that our family badly needed the blessings that would follow. I was afraid. I knew what this would mean; that I, a mother raising four busy, challenging children (with a variety of special needs) and running a business with my husband, would have to find the time to share the gospel also. However, I had accepted the challenge from the Elders. I had faith that the Lord was preparing someone, and I couldn’t afford the luxury of missing out on the blessings. The fleeting thought that Jared and Kristin McCowan, (a non-member, and his less-active wife) may somehow be interested. I quickly dismissed the thought. This dear family had an autistic child, and also suffered from mental illness and drug addiction. The Elders left and I prayed for direction and courage.

            Three months after the challenge was issued, I got a call from Kristin. Their car had broken down, again—and Ariel needed a ride. By some unlikely circumstance, I was home and cooking dinner for my family.  I offered to give them a ride. As I left the house, the phrase came clearly to my mind, “Give them your dinner.” My children were hungry. This was a rare occasion to eat together as family a dinner I hadn’t burned. I waved-off the thought and assumed it was my overly-impulsive nature. As I was getting into the car, I once again had the clear impression—“GIVE THEM YOUR DINNER.” It was more like an emphatic whisper this time. I rolled my eyes at the thought, sighed heavily, and then went back into the house. I pulled the steaming skillet full of food off the stove. It had no sauce yet, and I wrapped it in a dirty towel I grabbed off the floor, and took it to the car.

            I walked to the door and apologized for bringing a bland, unexpected, sauce-less dinner in an old frying pan. What I didn’t know was the at the Lord was working through me, and that following the counsel of President Thomas S. Monson to “never suppress a generous thought” was going to change the course of two families’ lives. A pathetic dinner would do just fine. Kristin thanked me and I dropped Jared and Ariel off at rehearsal.

The next morning, another rescue call came. The car had stalled again in the parking lot of a grocery store. I was, again able to intercede with a ride to school for Ariel and a ride home for Jared. As we drove, Jared shared with me some tender experiences he had over the weekend.  . Twice he had car trouble and he had been protected and watched over by the Lord. His car had run out of gas and a “big motorcycle biker” stopped and actually pushed the car---with his bike! The man then filled the car with gas as a gift and left. The next day, with Ariel in the car, it stalled again near the freeway. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, three “strapping young men” approached them and offered to push the car by hand back up the ramp and onto the road. Jared looked over at me, and at that moment, the Lord then used my dauntless tendency not to filter my words. Mind you, I barely knew Jared. He was just the husband of my friend Kristin. It was not my place, nor did I feel comfortable or appropriate in telling him what I did. But, moved upon by the Spirit, I boldly declared, “Jared, how many times will the Lord send you a rescue helicopter as you and your family are stranded on the roof, with flood water rising all around, before you acknowledge who it is coming to your rescue?” Jared, dropped his head. “I know, I know. It’s God answering my pleas.” “Well,” I looked him in the eye, “What are you going to do about it, Jared?” “I’m not sure,” came his quiet response. “Well, Jared, you’d make a pretty good Mormon.” I smiled and he snickered. Then I dropped him off at home.

            The following afternoon, I got a voicemail message from Kristin. I listened to it and tears welled-up as my heart seemed to stop. “Amy, thank you for the dinner and the rides. I have been able to convince Jared and we have decided to come back to church as a family. We mean to start attending every week. We will probably need a ride on Sunday, though because the car may not be ready.” My heart began beating again. I ran to my husband, Tim. “You have to listen to this.” Tears then filled his eyes as he realized what the Lord had been busy doing. Lending them the lawnmower all summer, babysitting their kids, quiet—and sometimes loud examples of keeping the commandments through our experiences in theater, giving up a sub-par dinner, and courageously calling this man I barely knew to repentance; all these things in tandem had been designed by the Lord to give the McCowans the opportunity to feel the Spirit of the Lord pull them into the safety of His fold.

            Kristin, Jared, Ariel and Caleb were dressed in borrowed Sunday attire. Sunday we took two cars to church, one filled with McCowans and one filled with my own children—a very loud and charismatic caravan. Our families attended church together. The following week in church, Jared bore his testimony to the entire congregation about being guided by the Spirit and feeling loved by the Lord.

That week, Elder Reinhold joined with Elders Avanesyan and Cantrell as a triple companionship. Elder Reinhold probably didn’t know at the time that his arrival was part of the Lord’s design to teach the McCowans. I had told Elder Avanesyan and Elder Cantrell about the McCowan family the night I received the phone message from Kristin. I was filled with excitement for the potential of this family. I confidently told the missionaries, “This family is going to be baptized! Get your white clothes ready!”

A week later, Elder Reinhold, out on a mission for only two weeks, asked Jared if he would follow the example of Jesus Christ and be baptized. “That’s why I’m here!” came Jared’s ecstatic response. That afternoon, the Elders and I joined together in a special fast for the McCowans as they began to obey the Word of Wisdom.

            Several days into discussions, Ariel needed another ride to singing rehearsal. As I was driving Ariel and my daughter to rehearsal, I felt compelled to talk with her also about the gospel that her Father was embracing and his upcoming baptism. I told her how precious the Gift of the Holy Ghost was to me. To my surprise, she told me that she wanted to be baptized, too!  I told her that she was already old enough and that she may even be able to be baptized with her Father two weeks later. She asked, “Would the Elders let me? What do I need to do?” I said, “Absolutely! Let’s call them right now and ask them!” I put Elder Avanesyan on speaker phone in my car and explained that Jared’s daughter was with me and that she was wondering if they would let her get baptized with her dad. Of course, they were thrilled and very encouraging. (I later found out that Elder Avanesyan screamed for joy when they got off the phone!) Shortly after I dropped the girls off, I had the pleasure of calling Jared to tell him that his baby girl would be following in his footsteps toward baptism and that she wanted to learn everything he had been taught about the Gospel. I then texted the Elders, “Sharing the gospel is PURE JOY!” This feeling was beyond happiness—it was pure joy.

Ariel accompanied us to several lessons in the following week. During one particularly joyful lesson, the Elders and I struggled to hold back our emotion as we watched Jared begin to take over and teach and explain his understanding of principles of the Gospel to his daughter. What began as a “catch-up-discussion” became a precious experience as we watched a humble father teach and bear testimony to his daughter of sacred truths he, himself had only just learned. The joy we all felt joy cannot be adequately described in written words. After Jared had his pre-baptismal interview with Elders Anderson, Avanesyan, Cantrell, Crane and Reinhold, Bingham, and myself--my emotion took the form of an involuntary victory-happy-dance in the hall of the church. The phrase,“Jump for joy” has new meaning to me now.

            Jared and Kristin are now living the Word of Wisdom, and this evening, October 29^th, 2013, my husband, Tim will baptize Jared and his daughter Ariel. Their sweet autistic son, Caleb will, no doubt embrace the same opportunity as soon as he is able to do so.  I am particularly humbled that the Mission President had the inspiration to assign a third Elder to our ward at just the perfect time--enabling the Elders to teach in my home, during a period of weeks when my husband would be working long hours and could not be present.

            There is no joy, no success, nor happiness that can compare with the experience of bringing people into the light of the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ. I will continue all my life to seek those who are ready to be rescued into the safety of His fold. They “are only kept from the truth because they no not where to find it.” I will look for another family. I will never stop hastening His work. The Lord has my hands and my heart. I pray he will continue to use my family as an instrument in bringing people to Him.

The joy and healing blessings that have been heaped upon my own family, my precious marriage, and my personal testimony of the Savior’s love for me are immeasurable. I am humbled and honored that He can work through an imperfect, selfish, flawed daughter like me to accomplish great things. My “plate” may already be full-- but I will just take another plate and have faith that the Lord Jesus Christ and my Heavenly Father will guide and direct me every day and every hour. I cannot deny and cannot keep from declaring that sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ indeed changes lives, transforms character, fortifies families, and resurrects love in marriages. I feel as the sons of Mosiah 28:3 “Now they were desirous that salvation should be declared to every creature, for they could not ^abear that any human ^bsoul should ^cperish; yea, even the very thoughts that any soul should endure ^dendless torment did cause them to quake and ^etremble.”

 I am so very grateful that I listened to the bold, yet quiet promptings of the Holy Ghost. I will serve Him all my days and I will never hesitate to give my time, talents and all God has blessed me with or will bless me with… even my dinner.

-Amy Elizabeth Akin

Yakima 6^th Ward

Yakima, Washington Stake

October 29, 2013

Post your comments and "take aways". I'd love to hear from you.

Pass along the Good - Bury the Bad.

We are the sum product of our past experiences and circumstances - both good and bad.  Most of our better qualities, characteristics, habits, talents, and desires we, in some way or another, inherited from our parents or ancestors. 
And on the other hand, the same goes for the bad.

Now the trick in life, is to keep the good and let go of the bad, never passing on the chain link that is undesirable.

Having been a teacher for many years, I was never surprised to see a parent step into my classroom on parent teacher night and act in someway or another like his/her child in my classroom. It was evident that we can be, both grateful and ungrateful for the what we have inherited through our parents.

Sometimes it is just a matter of tradition. Elder Young's family never put much emphasis on birthdays and so he never thought I should. However, because of my family's traditions around birthdays, we did have great parties.

I couldn't help but think about my mother and father this past week and some of the traditions passed along ...

Halloween for one, was a BIG deal. Maybe that is why I love it so much. We spent hours planning our costumes and preparing for Halloween. Well, it seemed like hours at the time. And Mom worked so hard that night to make everything so magical. The smell of hot donuts and homemade chili in the kitchen, while my sisters and I were in the bathroom having fun with the Halloween makeup is something I will never forget. We lived in a little town called Ucon with only a few thousand people. But the houses were close together and everyone knew everybody. We were caught up in counting how many trick or treaters came to our door each year. I still can envision the note pad with the tally marks by the big bowl of candy at the front door. One time I recall up to 3 or 4 hundred came. My friends, sisters and I would go out from door to door, while Mom and Dad stayed home to hand out candy and donuts. I don't remember having supervision - I guess we were safe. I do remember little cartons of orange juice from the neighbor who was our dentist and giant popcorn balls from grandma's house around the corner from us. 

Well enough memories... 

More about inheriting from our parents...
There is one phobia that I wish I hadn't inherited from Mom and Dad. It is the fear of dirty places and things - known as Mysophobia or Misophobia. Although this phobia is different from person to person - basically it boils down to not being able to cope with another person's "dirt" as Dad would put it. It has a wide sphere of different symptoms and degrees for different people - but in a nut shell - if you are afraid of dirty places - especially public places - you might have it too. I share this phobia with several "smart" people in the world including Donald Trump and Glenn Beck, so maybe it's legit. However, it has plagued me at times from enjoying life around me. I am afraid I have gotten worse being on my mission and having to confront it almost everyday.
I cringe at having bare feet on a dirty floor, coping with sticky hands, or touching things in public places. Sometimes I feel sick to my stomach when I see the neglected - such as a homeless person's abode under the freeway or a run-down apartment complex. Sometimes it is all I can do, to tune out the screaming panic in my head and focus on something beautiful around me.

I was telling my husband that I think I have done a good job of not passing this link to my children. Although they all know how to clean and they are all capable of having a clean house/apartment, none of them stress over it like I do. The key thing here is balance - balance in everything. Yes, we need to keep our places clean - but there is no reason to get sick over it. 

I am grateful for my parents and ancestors and what they taught me. 
If I had to name the single most important "link" they passed along to me that I have passed along to my children, it is a testimony of the Lord Jesus Christ and his restored gospel. A scripture from the Bible in the Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Romans says: 1:16 "For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto Salvation to every one that believeth;"

I know that the true Gospel of Jesus Christ is upon this earth. It has been restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith. Time is running short. We must prepare to meet Christ again. He is coming. I know this without a doubt. I love this mission and I love helping people come to Him, even Jesus Christ! The church is true!

I am thankful for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I know who I am. I know God's plan.