A Change of Heart

The moment I was born, I was taught the gospel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. When I was a month old, my dad held me in his hands and gave me a name and a blessing. I ran around the church halls saying my favorite words, uh oh. I cried every week in primary because I wanted to sit with my mom and I didn't understand why she was with the bigger kids. I remember when they made my dad my primary teacher so I would stop crying and he showed us a glove on his hand and explained how our bodies were like the gloves, but our spirits were like our hands inside, controlling the body. I remember sitting next to him proudly thinking that my dad was so smart. Nobody else ever gave the glove lesson quite like my dad did that day.

When I was eight, I eagerly went to JcPenny's and picked out a green dress to wear after my baptism. I remember painting a watercolor in class that day of me and my dad in the water together, then adding the rest of my family and saying we were just swimming. For some reason I was embarrassed. When I was baptized, I was more worried that moment about people signing the guest list then what was actually going on. I remember being a little sad in the bath room because I hadn't had that earth shattering feeling some people talked about. I was confirmed and kept my eyes open the whole time, not liking the pressure of hands on my head. 

When I was 9, the questions started. Why are we so different? Who's Jesus? Why is it so hard to be good? How do I know any of this is true, I can barely understand the sentences. I had tons of conversations before bed about how I was just 9, how was I supposed to believe any of this? Why was I expected to believe all of this? The Nauvoo temple was rededicated that year, and it was televised for everyone over eight to see. Like every other visit inside a temple, I had to get an interview to see this broadcast. 

I remember that interview so clearly. I was in a little closet because all the other rooms were full. My friends dad gave me a reassuring smile and told me that he was just going to ask me some questions. Even after all the temple interviews I've had over the years, I still don't have the questions memorized. I only remember the question that tripped me up so much. It was something along the lines of if I believed in God. 

I sat there quietly. Then I said, I don't know. He stared at me. I went on to explain to him how I'd learned about them and in my head I knew they were there, but in my heart, I didn't. I don't remember what he said to that, but I remember thinking at that moment something was wrong with me. Why didn't I know? Everyone else seemed to know, on the inside. 

I didn't really do anything the next few years. I just went on, trying not to think about how I didn't know in my heart if any of this was true. Then I went to high school. My breaking ground. I wanted to be a new person. I cool person. I wanted boys to like me so bad. So bad. I let that get in the way of my common sense. In the way of how I looked at myself. I distanced myself from all my church friends and ridiculed their 'blind faith.' I told people I was mormon to get a shock reaction. Quickly I got the reputation of the bad mormon. And at the time I was proud of it. I thought I'd found myself, that was who I was. So why wasn't I happy? 

Summer of 2010, I hit rock bottom. Things I did to try to win respect backfired and ended up with me on the outs. I was a depressed, anxious, confused, lonely mess. I tried to hide it as good as I could though. I went on trek, glad to be cut off completely from the world for awhile and focusing on something else. That was one of the most exhausting weeks of my life. I brought my best friend Kelsey with me on that trip. She had one of the worst weeks ever, and I still to this day wish I could make it up to her. But that week, things started to change. In a graveyard of all places. 

We were sitting in the graveyard silently reading letters from our parents. Lots of tears were being shed. I was trying not to laugh at the fact my mom had written what up homie in mine. It was quiet and peaceful. I was reflecting on the whole journey of the week. I'd had a lot of fun, and some annoyances that come with being with people 24/7 in Wyoming. It'd been a good week. I'd seen what caring truly meant. Kelsey and I had been alone pushing a handcart just the two of us during a women's pull. We struggled up that hill, laughing and singing Fat Lip. When I thought we weren't going to make it, I looked up and saw a group of girls who had already finished running towards us. They grabbed onto the front of our cart and got us all the way to the top. Once we had made it, they immediately ran back down to help those behind us up that hill. I felt a rush of emotions during that moment which was a big change. The only emotions I'd felt in awhile were anger. Those emotions I felt on that hill though, seeing those girls running toward us to help stuck with me to this day. 

Reflecting in that graveyard, something began to tug on my heartstrings.

When I got home, I made a resolve to change. With the rush of summer and life though that resolve started to slowly fade away. Good thing someone above was looking out for me. I started 11th grade and there was a certain someone sitting behind me. A certain someone that was completely different from anyone else and who I couldn't get out of my head. So Sammy and I became friends, and then started dating and you know the rest. And I really started liking him. A lot. And I couldn't believe that he liked me. That he thought I was funny. That he didn't care if I wore navy blue Star Wars shirts with red skirts and grey leggings. He still thought I was beautiful and wanted to kiss me.

And then I started to fall in love. I started to discover what that word meant. That ever so hard to describe word. The one you think you know what it means, but it means something completely different when you discover it. As I fell in love with Sammy, I learned what it meant, and how to love. And it didn't just stop with him. I developed a new relationship with my parents, one of respect and love. I valued all those silly giggles with my siblings more. Or the kind words of a friend. I'd learned what love was and it was a beautiful thing and I loved everything and everyone around me.

I went to EFY that summer. It was exactly what I needed. That extra little boost to help me now that I was blossoming. After that week, it hit me. Jesus Christ and my Heavenly Father? They felt that way about me. Me. They. Loved. Me. So much that Christ had given his life so that I could be saved from all the stupid mistakes I'd made. One night much later, I sobbed and screamed as I remembered everything I'd ever done. I couldn't believe all the things I'd done, and that Christ still loved me anyways. The ultimate love.

After I realized that, everything else started to click into place. It was all about love. Everything, was about love. Everywhere I looked, there was love.

They say you need a change of heart to have a testimony and live like this. I always thought that a change of heart happened in a minute. But they don't. They really don't. Mine took nine years, and that's ok. Because now I know what I know. I believe in my savior Jesus Christ. I believe that through him, I can be made clean. I believe that the Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ and true. I believe that we have living prophets on the earth today to lead and direct us. And mostly, I believe in the power of love.