In 1978, and nearly two years into their marriage, my mother and step-father felt a void in their lives. They had decided eating out for Sunday brunch and shopping with their only child wasn’t the best way to spend the Sabbath day. Both had grown up in different faiths and agreed that religion needed to be a part of raising a family.
Over several months, the three of us visited several churches and literally sought after what my mom called “the true Gospel.” My parents discussed attending The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and soon after, the Mormon missionaries began visiting our home.
While I wasn’t opposed to them coming, I was initially annoyed and really preferred watching my favorite TV shows. But something amazing happened on their third visit. (more…)