June 26, 2008
June 23, 2008
June 21, 2008
Mt. Nebo
Warm weather is finally here and we are taking advantage of every possible warm second! We just got back from a motorcycle ride up to Mt. Nebo. It took about 2 hours and it was so much fun. We had never been up there before but it definitely will not be the last.
June 19, 2008
The Koellings in Missour-a
This past weekend the whole Koelling family took a trip to the great state of Missouri. The Koellings were having their famous family reunion and Pat's dad was nice enough to bring us along.
Take a look at this sweet appronet. It is a bonnet and a apron all in one. One of the Koellings sews these, and I won one for being the couple that has been married the least amount of time.
We took a trip, not too far away to the house the Pat's great great grandparents lived in. They are tearing it down soon so everyone was taking what is left.
Pat was gutsy enough to actually climb the stairs.
They were about to break right underneath him!
Take a look at this sweet appronet. It is a bonnet and a apron all in one. One of the Koellings sews these, and I won one for being the couple that has been married the least amount of time.
Pats hilarious dad.
We took a trip, not too far away to the house the Pat's great great grandparents lived in. They are tearing it down soon so everyone was taking what is left.
Pat was gutsy enough to actually climb the stairs.
They were about to break right underneath him!
Then we drove in the middle of no where to the "Koelling Cemetery"
where many of the Koelling ancestors are buried.
where many of the Koelling ancestors are buried.
David with his great grandparents.
June 8, 2008
Turn the Hearts of the Fathers to the Children.
By Patrick Koelling
I don’t really know when or how the seed was planted in my heart but I know that when my neighbors delivered a peculiar blue book to our home, that seed grew just enough for me to stop my Mom from throwing the book out. Not knowing why I wanted to keep it, I placed it in my room and had forgotten about it until a sudden turn of events led me to questions about my life and Gods purpose for me. The answers to these questions were contained within the peculiar blue book that would change my life and my families’ life for eternity.
One spring night my friend and I were returning home from a late night with our friends when he challenged me to break his speed record he had set on a stretch of road by our homes. As a result of my bad judgment and reckless decision to speed, my car became an uncontrollable weapon. I lost control of the vehicle as it swerved off the road rolling several times until it came to rest upside down in an irrigation ditch. My seatbelt kept me attached to the out of control vehicle, slicing the top of my finger off. As for my friend who wasn’t wearing his seat belt, he was thrown out of the car landing nearby breaking his hip on impact and loosing consciousness. Fortunately my friends who had happened to be driving by witnessed the entire event and stopped to call the authorities. As I lay on the sidewalk waiting for the ambulance, the full impact of what had just unfolded hadn’t become clear.
At first, I attributed my survival to luck and chance, but when I met the police officer at the hospital, I discovered luck and chance had nothing to do with it. The police officer began to ask me questions about the accident. As he began to speak it was apparent in his voice that something had disturbed him, He asked me if I knew how fast my vehicle was traveling. Still pretty confused, I told him I wasn’t sure. He went on to tell me something that would cause me to begin searching for the purpose of my life, and my desire to live. The police officer told me that judging by the skid marks on the asphalt my vehicle went into a roll between 90 and 100 miles per hour. He continued on to say there is no physical reason that my friend and I should have lived through the accident, and he had never seen some one live through something such as this. As an average senior in high school my mind often occupied thoughts of the upcoming weekend’s events or the next immediate meal, now I was forced to find out what I believed. My soul began to thirst for something it had never sought after before; answers to why was I alive, and by what power?
Over the following months my questions about my life began to reflect in my actions and thoughts. As I began my search for who I was and who God was, I soon realized that the religion I had grown up in lacked the answers that my soul was thirsting for. My close friends noticed my perplexed state of mind and invited me to speak to the missionaries from their church. They told me that the missionaries would have the answers I was searching for. Having seen the missionaries around my neighborhood going door to door never listening to them previously; reluctantly, I decided to give them a chance. One evening we met at my friends home who had just recently returned home from his mission to have dinner and speak with the missionaries. As dinner ended the conversation had been relatively light, and I began to think that even these two well kempt missionaries lacked what I needed. As the dinner plates were cleared we began to speak about a Father in Heaven and his Son who really did exist. Although I don’t remember them talking about prophets or visions; however, I do remember how I felt. It was the first time in my life I had felt someone’s words, but to my surprise it wasn’t coming from the missionaries but from my friends whom I loved and trusted. The missionaries asked my friends who Jesus Christ was to them. As my friends opened their mouths and began to share their heart-felt feelings for the Savior, I began to feel something incredible. Never in my life had I heard some one speak of Son of God with such conviction and assurance.
The Missionaries told me of the Book of Mormon and showed me a copy. I immediately recognized the peculiar blue book; it was the same one that I already owned. My meetings with the missionaries began to pacify and bring light to my seemingly unanswerable questions. Late at night, I would often find myself under my bed sheets searching the Book of Mormon by the light of a flashlight after my family had gone to bed. I knew that my parents would not be in favor of my newfound interests. As a result of reading the Book of Mormon and praying to find the truth, my life began to change. Not only was my life changing spiritually it was changing physically as well. I was starting college in the fall and through divine intervention the Lord placed me in an environment where I could immerse my self in the Restored Gospel and strengthen my growing testimony for the trials that lay ahead.
Upon moving into my new apartment in Provo, I was immediately perturbed by the constant assuming that I was a member of the Mormon Church. As we unpacked our things, there came a knock at the door. The bishopric of the singles ward was meeting the new students. As they set appointments with all of my member friends, they asked me when I was available. By this time still unfamiliar with what a bishop was, it seemed to be just another person assuming that I was a member of the church. In resentment, I accepted the invitation to meet the bishop. Little did he know that I was going to set the record straight that I was yet not a member of the Mormon Church. The night of my interview I put on my Sunday best and went to settle the issue. When I arrived at his office, immediately we began to talk and the Spirit entered my heart immediately humbling me. He began to ask about my family, my goals and my dreams. After a while, I had forgotten my object in meeting the bishop, what I had planned to be a confrontation, actually proved to be one of the most spiritual moments in my life. The Bishop explained to me Heavenly Father had protected me in my car accident and his hand had guided me to Provo. When the meeting was over I had truly felt the love of my Savior through one of His chosen representatives. As we got up to leave, I told him that I wasn’t a member of the church, he smiled and looked me in the eye and told me that he had known all along. The Bishop then recognizing the Spirit creating opportune moment, invited me to attend an institute class that was about to start. We walked down the hallway and entered in to the chapel full of 200 college aged students. The bishop walked me to the front of the chapel and introduced me to the teacher, he said “This is Patrick, he is Catholic but he will be Mormon some day...” still uneasy with the assumption, I smiled and the teacher showed me to my seat. As the class began the teacher asked if there were any visitors and he called on me to stand up. I stuck out like a sore thumb, there I was dressed in my white shirt and tie in an audience full of dressed down college kids having just got out of class. The teacher introduced me the same way as the bishop and announced that I was in mission prep. class. Upon realizing the situation I was in, I felt like a slab of meat dangling in front pride of hungry lions. Every one was looking at me in hopes of exercising some of their newly found missionary skills. As soon as the closing prayer ended I was surrounded by a large number of students asking me if I believed in a "Supreme Being”, and if they could bear their "testimonies” to me. Although awkward at first, the incredible Spirit that I felt at the institute class provided me with a foundation that I would need for my still growing testimony.
Meanwhile, in Colorado, the missionaries were making attempts to find me. After leaving Colorado I had lost contact with the missionaries. One night I received a call; The Elders from Colorado called to ask me if I would be baptized a member of the church on the 24th of November 2001. The Spirit accompanied their words and I knew what I had to do. The thought of not being baptized became more frightening then the actual baptism. Hesitantly, I accepted to follow the Saviors example an be baptized on the 24th. Knowing opposition that I would soon be facing in the following months I began to prepare myself to change my life for eternity and to tell my family of my decision to be baptized. Upon a brief visit home, I alluded to my baptism to my family. They didn’t share the same enthusiasm that I had for my newfound faith. I knew that my Mom had attended Catholic school as a child and my desires to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints threatened my family’s Catholic tradition. Learning of my parent’s disappointment, I decided to go the Lord for help. I determined to go to a cliff near my house where I had often gone to be alone, but this time I went to the cliff seeking to speak with my Father in Heaven. As I began to hike up to the cliff, I noticed what seemed to be a small piece of trash. I thought it to be abnormal that my mind was drawn to piece of garbage. Ignoring the sudden urge to investigate the object, I continued until I reached the cliff. I knelt in prayer, pleading to know who was right or wrong and if I should join the church knowing the division it would cause in my family. After a long time on my knees, I felt calm although still lacking the knowledge I had come to the Lord to receive. Discouraged, I began to walk down the same path I had chosen to come up. Again I saw the trash like object, this time I decided to pick it up. To my surprise, it was not a peace of trash at all, but a neatly folded white handkerchief. As I examined the handkerchief, written on it were the words, “Jesus loves you”. I began to weep as I read the small message, knowing that it was a tender mercy from the Lord, the answer that I had been searching for. The Savior did indeed love me and he would not lead me astray. It was not a matter of who was right or wrong, but I was lacking faith, and trust in God. In my uneasy mind I had forgotten that my Heavenly Father was the author of my salvation and in him I could trust. With a renewed conviction to sustain me through my family’s hasty judgments I knew my righteous desires to be baptized had been confirmed by my Father in Heaven, and now it was time to go forward. Still, I had to face my family and tell them of my upcoming baptism. For this reason I decided to wait until the week I returned home to Colorado for Thanksgiving break to speak to my family in person. I wanted so badly for them to feel as I had felt and to partake of the precious gift I had found. I returned home to Colorado on a Monday and I was to be baptized on that following Saturday.
I told my family I wanted to share something with them when I returned home. With my mother and father intensity anticipating my “big news”, I began to testify of the witness I had received several times that the true Church of Jesus Christ had been restored to the earth and I wanted to be a part of it. A brief silence entered the room as a look of disappointment fell upon my parents. My father simply told me that it was just a phase I was going through, and that he had promised the Catholic church that he would raise me in that religion. My Mom was also quick to remind me of our family’s Catholic traditions. At the end of our conversation I understood the seriousness of my decision and I became apparent I would soon have to choose between my family and my God. Understanding that I was in a very delicate situation I decided to avoid any more confrontations until my baptism was closer. The morning before my baptism I was awaken in the early hours to my fathers thundering voice. At first, I didn’t understand what was going on, but I realized they were arguing about my future. My Dad insisted that if I joined the Mormon Church, I would no longer be a member of the family and that I would have no home or college or any future. After withstanding all that I could bear to hear, I left my home early that morning to reevaluate my decision. I knew what I felt in my heart to be true, but I had to still face the possibility of loosing my family. I walked the entire day pondering my baptism. Later that night, I arrived at my house to settle the issue. My parents were awakened as I came through the front door. My Dad began to plead with me to slow down and understand the mistake I was about to make the next morning. He insisted that I spoke with the Catholic priest before I was baptized. Sensing the uneasiness in my father’s words I agreed to speak with the priest in hopes of calming the situation. It occurred to me that my family didn’t understand any thing of the Church or the choices I was making. Their fear of the unknown Church I was about to join created intense feelings of separation and anger because of my resistance to adhere to their counsel. The Adversary knew that my families influence was the only thing that could stop me from eternal progression, and used their fear of the unknown to intensify the opposition I was facing. In an act of desperation my father began to raise his voice and threaten me with the future consequences of my decision. The hostility became too much to bear, causing me to leave my home again that night. With many of my friends living near by, I spent the night one of their homes and received a priest hood blessing for the first time. I phoned my family to let them know that I was safe and that I just needed some more time to think. When I awoke the next morning I awoke to the father of all lies seemingly in my presence. I felt as if I was on the verge of committing the greatest sin and destroying my family. To this day I have never felt as low as I did that morning of my baptism. Having come this far by having trusted in my Heavenly Father and knowing that he wouldn’t lead me astray, I persevered through the deep opposition and with only a prayer to do what would please my Father in Heaven, I returned to my home. When I returned to my home, I walked through the front door to the sound of gospel music. Surprised, I listened and followed the music. I found my Dad sitting in the kitchen crying. I asked him what had happened and he told me he was at his son’s funeral, because after today he told me that I would no longer be his son. After regaining my courage and still wanting to do what was right, I told my Dad that I wanted to take his advice and talk to the Catholic Priest at my childhood church.
My father and my mother and I all got in to the car and we drove to the Church that I had spent countless hours of my childhood attending. I was frightened at the upcoming confrontation, but I could not deny the answer that God had given me through the Holy Ghost. I often reflected on a scripture in the Bible in Romans 8:18 “.. for I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not to be worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us”. My family and I walked up the stairs of the church where we were met by the Catholic Priest. As he greeted us and we walked into the church, I felt the presence of the Lord’s spirit with me, bringing me a sense of comfort that everything would be all right. I sat down at the table and the priest sat directly in front of me, with my Mom and Dad on each side of me. The priest then asked me why I wanted to be baptized. As the question lingered in my soul, I felt the Lord tenderly confirming my righteous desires were correct even in the face of this seemingly difficult circumstance. That seed that was planted so long ago when I received the Book of Mormon and was nourished time and time again by the constant promptings of the Holy Ghost, began to sprout as I opened my mouth to tell the priest the true feelings of my heart.. As I began to speak the words were my own. For the first time in my life I began to bear pure solid testimony of the Savior Jesus Christ and the happiness I have found through his only true and living church that had been restored to the earth by the prophet Joseph Smith. When the priest heard, and more importantly understood, that I indeed had grown closer to the Savior and that it had been through the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, a silence entered the room. The priest was at a loss of words and asked my father what he was going to do. I looked at my Dad and told him that I never had to see him again, but I just needed to know one thing… If he loved me. After I said that, my father looked at me and told me he would not have a Mormon Son and that if I joined the church he could no longer love me. Finally, we got back in to the deathly silent car and drove back home. There I was I had come to the edge of all the light and knowledge I had, and now it was time to take a step in to the unknown. That fateful morning of my baptism I had to choose between following what the Lord wanted of me or what my family wanted and take a step into the darkness. I returned home and gathered all of the few things I had brought home with me and put on my white shirt and tie and went to the chapel. I begged my Mom and brother to come if they chose. When I arrived at the church, I was greeted by the missionaries.
It hadn’t occurred to me the number of people who I had associated with throughout my high school years that were Mormon and all their families showed up. My Mom and my brother also showed up. On November 24, 2001, I was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This sacred truth that belonged to everyone else had become mine. When I was baptized it became a part of my me. The Lord had chosen me to come out of the world and be a part of this marvelous latter-day work. Not long after my baptism, the weight of my decision still lingered. I understood that my future both financially and with my family was uncertain. Soon after my baptism, my friend who had been injured in the car accident with me had received a cash settlement from the insurance company and he gave me $10,000 to allow me to survive on my own without the financial support of my family. I had come to the edge of all the light I had known and I had to take a step in to the darkness and know that my Heavenly Father would support me for my decision to join the church. The next day I returned to my home and the beginning of my new life as a member of the church. With things strained with my family, I knew that my Dad was a good man and that Satan influenced a lot of his words and actions, nevertheless, there were a lot of hard feelings, but his threats proved to be hollow ones over time. Gradually, we began to speak again. I began to live the gospel the best I could. Little did I know that anyone was watching. One night in the late fall of the next year 2002, I received a phone call from my Mom. It started off as any other phone call, then my Mom said, “The missionaries knocked at the door today… and I let them in”. She then said, “ I want to know why you have changed, I have seen it in you and now I want to know what it is.” Could this have been an answer to the many prayers I had for my family to know what I had felt and knew? A month had passed by when I received another phone call from my Mom. This was the phone call that I will never forget. She asked me to baptize her! She told me she had prayed and if this is what the Lord wanted her to do than she was going to do it. It’s one thing to look back in your life and see the Lords hand in your life, but its most incredible to witness an answer to your prayers happening right there in the moment. The Lord loves us beyond our own comprehension and at that moment I felt that Love of my Savior to a degree I had never felt before in my life. After we spoke for a while about her decision, I hung up the phone and fell to my knees crying, thanking my Heavenly Father, and he was there that night as my heart swelled with love and charity. Meanwhile, back at home my Mom had to face some opposition that I had faced a year earlier, but this time the Lord was humbling my father. My father had lost his Job around the same time that my Mom had decided to join the church. Due to the lack of employment in my home things began to become uncertain, with many unpaid bills lingering and the notions of loosing the house became more and more real. Things began looking dark. One night the bishop of my home ward showed up at my home after becoming aware of my families desperate conditions and offered to help bear our burdens by relieving some of the financial pressure.
The Church was there to support my family when no one else could. As my father witnessed the miracle unfolding in front of him, he began to understand that this truly was the restored church upon the earth and the seed was planted in his heart. On November 22, 2005, I was the first to welcome my Mom into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as I baptized her in the same fount I had been baptized in one year earlier. In a church of families, my Mom and I grew together and strengthened each other. We spent many hours while I was at home staying up until the late hours of the night reading scriptures and discussing gospel principles. . Having this joy in my life, having tasted of the incredible power of the gospel blessing other peoples lives, my desires to serve a mission became more and more intense. My mother had fully embraced the restored gospel and witnessed her life change and began preparing to enter the temple so that one day we could be sealed together as a family. The idea of serving a Mission filled my soul; I wanted to tell others of the blessing that the gospel had brought to my life. Because of my car accident 2 years earlier I was legally unable to serve a mission, nevertheless, I knew that the Lord would find a way. As I pled with the Lord to serve a mission my testimony continued to grow and my Love of the gospel strengthened. My prayers were answered and yet again my righteous desires were made a reality. The Lord provided a way for me to submit my mission papers and overcome any obstacles that stood in the way. The members of my home ward fully supported my decision to serve a mission both spiritually and financially. My family was very hesitant to let me leave when I got my mission call to Costa Rica. Not fully understanding the impact my mission would have on my family, or me I entered Provo MTC on November 19, 2003. I said good-bye to my family and friends with only a little more than my testimony and a desire to serve my Heavenly Father. Not long after entering the MTC, my Mom completed one year in the church and went through the temple for the first time. I was starting to see how my service and sacrifice would set me and my family free. Having been called to speak Spanish, I spent two months in the MTC. With only two weeks before I was to leave the MTC I was called down to the mission office to speak with the MTC mission presidency. As I walked down the hall he poked his head around the corner and began singing, “ Ill go where you want me to go dear Lord “. Quite bewildered, I had no idea why the mission president counselor was singing this hymn to me. As I got closer, he stopped and said the brethren had prayed about it, and felt that my mission call should be changed to Orlando, Florida… and …. my Visa fell through.” Stunned at the large change in my life just announced to me, I accepted my new call and two weeks later I was off to Orlando. I had become used to these sudden life changing events in my life and received a confirmation in my heart that I would indeed go where the Lord wanted me to go. Orlando, Florida is home to Mickey Mouse, Hurricanes, Alligators, and The Florida Orlando Mission. Upon arriving in the mission field my love for the Savior increased and my knowledge of the Gospel was enhanced. Having only little over two years in the church I was teaching complete strangers of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the blessings that followed from living it. I began to write home every week and tell my family of the incredible experiences that my mission was bringing me. The reality of me sharing this sacred message with the whole world yet my own father and brother back home didn’t even know if it was true hit me like a ton of bricks. Missionaries are able to call home on Mothers day and weeks before I called home I learned of my families long planned vacation to Florida to visit distant relatives I had never met. Upon discovering my family’s long planed trip to Florida and my reassignment to serve in Florida, my heart leaped. The coincidences appeared to not just be happenstance, but divine intervention. I knew that the Lord was preparing my father to accept the fullness of the gospel and that his heart was softening. Before calling home I pleaded with my Heavenly Father to allow me to invite my father to baptism. With a prayer in my Heart and a confirmation of my role in my father’s conversion, I called home. Talking to your parents for the first time in five months is a very exciting moment. I spoke to my family about everything from to the food served on the plane ride to Florida, to how my sheets were fitting on my bed. My family then told me the details of their trip to Florida in late June. The Spirit whispered to me to invite my Dad to prepare himself to receive a confirmation that the church was true, that the Savior had restored it through the prophet Joseph Smith and put in order his life to be baptized when my family came to Florida. Following the Spirit’s powerful promptings I told my Father that he had the right to know what I was dedicating the two years of my to. I was spending all my might, mind and strength to bring the Restored Gospel to complete stranger’s lives and that my own father didn’t even know if it was true. He responded by telling me that he was Catholic and that he would die Catholic. I challenged him to at least think about it and he told me he would. After the phone call I was at the least encouraged, knowing that my Father was for the first time going to actually “think about it”. It was more than I could have hoped for. Soon after, my Mom’s letters to me began to increase in excitement as she told me of the missionaries contacting my father and his agreeing to speak with them. As the months passed my contentment for my father reflected in my obedience and hard work as a missionary. I knew that I had come to Florida for many reasons, but this would be the greatest reason of all. As June approached, although my Mom’s letters reflected my father’s change in attitude towards the church and my mission, his did not. Discouraged, I returned to my previous thoughts that my Father would someday be baptized, but it would be in the temple. My companion, knowing the situation, suggested that we have a fast for my father. It seemed to be too easy, but my trust in my Lord had not faltered and I was willing to do whatever it took. I had never previously fasted with such fervency as my companion and I pleaded with the heavens to turn the heart of my father. With only one week before my family was to visit me, we had just ended the day of work and returned to our apartment when the telephone rang, to my surprise I heard my father’s voice. My father began to explain that he had been sitting in church with a prayer in his heart to know the truth and he said that a deep feeling of love and warmth came over him testifying of the truth. My father felt the influence of the Holy Ghost, testifying to him of the truth. My heart raced as I listened to my father bear pure testimony to me. I began to cry as my own father asked me to baptize him when they were in Florida. With the help of the office couples in the Florida Orlando mission and the missionaries in Colorado, the details were arranged for my father’s baptism. My family picked me and my companion up from our apartment and we drove to the chapel. When we arrived the chapel was full of people I had only known for a short while. The ward that I was currently serving in , the brand new Mission President and his wife who had only arrived two days earlier, along with all of my past companions with whom I had served were there. After all the pictures were taken and we were dressed in white the service began. As I sat next to my father, the both of us dressed in white, preparing to lead my father in to waters of baptism, the Holy Ghost entered into my heart stronger than any time previous in my life. With tears of joy filling my eyes, I looked at my father sitting next to my family. I experienced heaven and felt and for the first time what eternal happiness could be, sealed to my family. On the evening of June 30, 2004, I baptized my own father in to the fold of God. thus fulfilling the promise in Malachi 3:6… turning the heart of the fathers to the children…” There comes a time when we reach the end of all the light of all we know and we have to take a step in to darkness we have to assume that one of two thins will governments fail friendships also but the savior will not
When I joined the church I thought I was taking a step away from my family. Little did I know that I was actually taking a step towards them, never denying the testimony I had once received, that Jesus Christ Lives, and He and the Eternal Father appeared to the boy Joseph restoring the Saviors Church and authority once again to the earth. Because of a 14 year olds desire to know the Savior so long ago, today I have a strengthened testimony of the Savior Jesus Christ. Now, as I am preparing to return home from my mission, I will be returning to a home where the Priesthood of God resides, where pictures of the Savior hang, and where the Gospel of Jesus Christ is studied and applied. More importantly however, I will be returning home to my temple worthy parents waiting to be sealed to me for all time and eternity. I will forever be grateful for my loving friends who had the courage to share these sacred truths of the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ with me, feeding the seed that had been planted in my heart. I found the answers to my life that I was seeking within the peculiar blue book that has change my life and my family’s life for eternity.
I don’t really know when or how the seed was planted in my heart but I know that when my neighbors delivered a peculiar blue book to our home, that seed grew just enough for me to stop my Mom from throwing the book out. Not knowing why I wanted to keep it, I placed it in my room and had forgotten about it until a sudden turn of events led me to questions about my life and Gods purpose for me. The answers to these questions were contained within the peculiar blue book that would change my life and my families’ life for eternity.
One spring night my friend and I were returning home from a late night with our friends when he challenged me to break his speed record he had set on a stretch of road by our homes. As a result of my bad judgment and reckless decision to speed, my car became an uncontrollable weapon. I lost control of the vehicle as it swerved off the road rolling several times until it came to rest upside down in an irrigation ditch. My seatbelt kept me attached to the out of control vehicle, slicing the top of my finger off. As for my friend who wasn’t wearing his seat belt, he was thrown out of the car landing nearby breaking his hip on impact and loosing consciousness. Fortunately my friends who had happened to be driving by witnessed the entire event and stopped to call the authorities. As I lay on the sidewalk waiting for the ambulance, the full impact of what had just unfolded hadn’t become clear.
At first, I attributed my survival to luck and chance, but when I met the police officer at the hospital, I discovered luck and chance had nothing to do with it. The police officer began to ask me questions about the accident. As he began to speak it was apparent in his voice that something had disturbed him, He asked me if I knew how fast my vehicle was traveling. Still pretty confused, I told him I wasn’t sure. He went on to tell me something that would cause me to begin searching for the purpose of my life, and my desire to live. The police officer told me that judging by the skid marks on the asphalt my vehicle went into a roll between 90 and 100 miles per hour. He continued on to say there is no physical reason that my friend and I should have lived through the accident, and he had never seen some one live through something such as this. As an average senior in high school my mind often occupied thoughts of the upcoming weekend’s events or the next immediate meal, now I was forced to find out what I believed. My soul began to thirst for something it had never sought after before; answers to why was I alive, and by what power?
Over the following months my questions about my life began to reflect in my actions and thoughts. As I began my search for who I was and who God was, I soon realized that the religion I had grown up in lacked the answers that my soul was thirsting for. My close friends noticed my perplexed state of mind and invited me to speak to the missionaries from their church. They told me that the missionaries would have the answers I was searching for. Having seen the missionaries around my neighborhood going door to door never listening to them previously; reluctantly, I decided to give them a chance. One evening we met at my friends home who had just recently returned home from his mission to have dinner and speak with the missionaries. As dinner ended the conversation had been relatively light, and I began to think that even these two well kempt missionaries lacked what I needed. As the dinner plates were cleared we began to speak about a Father in Heaven and his Son who really did exist. Although I don’t remember them talking about prophets or visions; however, I do remember how I felt. It was the first time in my life I had felt someone’s words, but to my surprise it wasn’t coming from the missionaries but from my friends whom I loved and trusted. The missionaries asked my friends who Jesus Christ was to them. As my friends opened their mouths and began to share their heart-felt feelings for the Savior, I began to feel something incredible. Never in my life had I heard some one speak of Son of God with such conviction and assurance.
The Missionaries told me of the Book of Mormon and showed me a copy. I immediately recognized the peculiar blue book; it was the same one that I already owned. My meetings with the missionaries began to pacify and bring light to my seemingly unanswerable questions. Late at night, I would often find myself under my bed sheets searching the Book of Mormon by the light of a flashlight after my family had gone to bed. I knew that my parents would not be in favor of my newfound interests. As a result of reading the Book of Mormon and praying to find the truth, my life began to change. Not only was my life changing spiritually it was changing physically as well. I was starting college in the fall and through divine intervention the Lord placed me in an environment where I could immerse my self in the Restored Gospel and strengthen my growing testimony for the trials that lay ahead.
Upon moving into my new apartment in Provo, I was immediately perturbed by the constant assuming that I was a member of the Mormon Church. As we unpacked our things, there came a knock at the door. The bishopric of the singles ward was meeting the new students. As they set appointments with all of my member friends, they asked me when I was available. By this time still unfamiliar with what a bishop was, it seemed to be just another person assuming that I was a member of the church. In resentment, I accepted the invitation to meet the bishop. Little did he know that I was going to set the record straight that I was yet not a member of the Mormon Church. The night of my interview I put on my Sunday best and went to settle the issue. When I arrived at his office, immediately we began to talk and the Spirit entered my heart immediately humbling me. He began to ask about my family, my goals and my dreams. After a while, I had forgotten my object in meeting the bishop, what I had planned to be a confrontation, actually proved to be one of the most spiritual moments in my life. The Bishop explained to me Heavenly Father had protected me in my car accident and his hand had guided me to Provo. When the meeting was over I had truly felt the love of my Savior through one of His chosen representatives. As we got up to leave, I told him that I wasn’t a member of the church, he smiled and looked me in the eye and told me that he had known all along. The Bishop then recognizing the Spirit creating opportune moment, invited me to attend an institute class that was about to start. We walked down the hallway and entered in to the chapel full of 200 college aged students. The bishop walked me to the front of the chapel and introduced me to the teacher, he said “This is Patrick, he is Catholic but he will be Mormon some day...” still uneasy with the assumption, I smiled and the teacher showed me to my seat. As the class began the teacher asked if there were any visitors and he called on me to stand up. I stuck out like a sore thumb, there I was dressed in my white shirt and tie in an audience full of dressed down college kids having just got out of class. The teacher introduced me the same way as the bishop and announced that I was in mission prep. class. Upon realizing the situation I was in, I felt like a slab of meat dangling in front pride of hungry lions. Every one was looking at me in hopes of exercising some of their newly found missionary skills. As soon as the closing prayer ended I was surrounded by a large number of students asking me if I believed in a "Supreme Being”, and if they could bear their "testimonies” to me. Although awkward at first, the incredible Spirit that I felt at the institute class provided me with a foundation that I would need for my still growing testimony.
Meanwhile, in Colorado, the missionaries were making attempts to find me. After leaving Colorado I had lost contact with the missionaries. One night I received a call; The Elders from Colorado called to ask me if I would be baptized a member of the church on the 24th of November 2001. The Spirit accompanied their words and I knew what I had to do. The thought of not being baptized became more frightening then the actual baptism. Hesitantly, I accepted to follow the Saviors example an be baptized on the 24th. Knowing opposition that I would soon be facing in the following months I began to prepare myself to change my life for eternity and to tell my family of my decision to be baptized. Upon a brief visit home, I alluded to my baptism to my family. They didn’t share the same enthusiasm that I had for my newfound faith. I knew that my Mom had attended Catholic school as a child and my desires to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints threatened my family’s Catholic tradition. Learning of my parent’s disappointment, I decided to go the Lord for help. I determined to go to a cliff near my house where I had often gone to be alone, but this time I went to the cliff seeking to speak with my Father in Heaven. As I began to hike up to the cliff, I noticed what seemed to be a small piece of trash. I thought it to be abnormal that my mind was drawn to piece of garbage. Ignoring the sudden urge to investigate the object, I continued until I reached the cliff. I knelt in prayer, pleading to know who was right or wrong and if I should join the church knowing the division it would cause in my family. After a long time on my knees, I felt calm although still lacking the knowledge I had come to the Lord to receive. Discouraged, I began to walk down the same path I had chosen to come up. Again I saw the trash like object, this time I decided to pick it up. To my surprise, it was not a peace of trash at all, but a neatly folded white handkerchief. As I examined the handkerchief, written on it were the words, “Jesus loves you”. I began to weep as I read the small message, knowing that it was a tender mercy from the Lord, the answer that I had been searching for. The Savior did indeed love me and he would not lead me astray. It was not a matter of who was right or wrong, but I was lacking faith, and trust in God. In my uneasy mind I had forgotten that my Heavenly Father was the author of my salvation and in him I could trust. With a renewed conviction to sustain me through my family’s hasty judgments I knew my righteous desires to be baptized had been confirmed by my Father in Heaven, and now it was time to go forward. Still, I had to face my family and tell them of my upcoming baptism. For this reason I decided to wait until the week I returned home to Colorado for Thanksgiving break to speak to my family in person. I wanted so badly for them to feel as I had felt and to partake of the precious gift I had found. I returned home to Colorado on a Monday and I was to be baptized on that following Saturday.
I told my family I wanted to share something with them when I returned home. With my mother and father intensity anticipating my “big news”, I began to testify of the witness I had received several times that the true Church of Jesus Christ had been restored to the earth and I wanted to be a part of it. A brief silence entered the room as a look of disappointment fell upon my parents. My father simply told me that it was just a phase I was going through, and that he had promised the Catholic church that he would raise me in that religion. My Mom was also quick to remind me of our family’s Catholic traditions. At the end of our conversation I understood the seriousness of my decision and I became apparent I would soon have to choose between my family and my God. Understanding that I was in a very delicate situation I decided to avoid any more confrontations until my baptism was closer. The morning before my baptism I was awaken in the early hours to my fathers thundering voice. At first, I didn’t understand what was going on, but I realized they were arguing about my future. My Dad insisted that if I joined the Mormon Church, I would no longer be a member of the family and that I would have no home or college or any future. After withstanding all that I could bear to hear, I left my home early that morning to reevaluate my decision. I knew what I felt in my heart to be true, but I had to still face the possibility of loosing my family. I walked the entire day pondering my baptism. Later that night, I arrived at my house to settle the issue. My parents were awakened as I came through the front door. My Dad began to plead with me to slow down and understand the mistake I was about to make the next morning. He insisted that I spoke with the Catholic priest before I was baptized. Sensing the uneasiness in my father’s words I agreed to speak with the priest in hopes of calming the situation. It occurred to me that my family didn’t understand any thing of the Church or the choices I was making. Their fear of the unknown Church I was about to join created intense feelings of separation and anger because of my resistance to adhere to their counsel. The Adversary knew that my families influence was the only thing that could stop me from eternal progression, and used their fear of the unknown to intensify the opposition I was facing. In an act of desperation my father began to raise his voice and threaten me with the future consequences of my decision. The hostility became too much to bear, causing me to leave my home again that night. With many of my friends living near by, I spent the night one of their homes and received a priest hood blessing for the first time. I phoned my family to let them know that I was safe and that I just needed some more time to think. When I awoke the next morning I awoke to the father of all lies seemingly in my presence. I felt as if I was on the verge of committing the greatest sin and destroying my family. To this day I have never felt as low as I did that morning of my baptism. Having come this far by having trusted in my Heavenly Father and knowing that he wouldn’t lead me astray, I persevered through the deep opposition and with only a prayer to do what would please my Father in Heaven, I returned to my home. When I returned to my home, I walked through the front door to the sound of gospel music. Surprised, I listened and followed the music. I found my Dad sitting in the kitchen crying. I asked him what had happened and he told me he was at his son’s funeral, because after today he told me that I would no longer be his son. After regaining my courage and still wanting to do what was right, I told my Dad that I wanted to take his advice and talk to the Catholic Priest at my childhood church.
My father and my mother and I all got in to the car and we drove to the Church that I had spent countless hours of my childhood attending. I was frightened at the upcoming confrontation, but I could not deny the answer that God had given me through the Holy Ghost. I often reflected on a scripture in the Bible in Romans 8:18 “.. for I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not to be worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us”. My family and I walked up the stairs of the church where we were met by the Catholic Priest. As he greeted us and we walked into the church, I felt the presence of the Lord’s spirit with me, bringing me a sense of comfort that everything would be all right. I sat down at the table and the priest sat directly in front of me, with my Mom and Dad on each side of me. The priest then asked me why I wanted to be baptized. As the question lingered in my soul, I felt the Lord tenderly confirming my righteous desires were correct even in the face of this seemingly difficult circumstance. That seed that was planted so long ago when I received the Book of Mormon and was nourished time and time again by the constant promptings of the Holy Ghost, began to sprout as I opened my mouth to tell the priest the true feelings of my heart.. As I began to speak the words were my own. For the first time in my life I began to bear pure solid testimony of the Savior Jesus Christ and the happiness I have found through his only true and living church that had been restored to the earth by the prophet Joseph Smith. When the priest heard, and more importantly understood, that I indeed had grown closer to the Savior and that it had been through the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, a silence entered the room. The priest was at a loss of words and asked my father what he was going to do. I looked at my Dad and told him that I never had to see him again, but I just needed to know one thing… If he loved me. After I said that, my father looked at me and told me he would not have a Mormon Son and that if I joined the church he could no longer love me. Finally, we got back in to the deathly silent car and drove back home. There I was I had come to the edge of all the light and knowledge I had, and now it was time to take a step in to the unknown. That fateful morning of my baptism I had to choose between following what the Lord wanted of me or what my family wanted and take a step into the darkness. I returned home and gathered all of the few things I had brought home with me and put on my white shirt and tie and went to the chapel. I begged my Mom and brother to come if they chose. When I arrived at the church, I was greeted by the missionaries.
It hadn’t occurred to me the number of people who I had associated with throughout my high school years that were Mormon and all their families showed up. My Mom and my brother also showed up. On November 24, 2001, I was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This sacred truth that belonged to everyone else had become mine. When I was baptized it became a part of my me. The Lord had chosen me to come out of the world and be a part of this marvelous latter-day work. Not long after my baptism, the weight of my decision still lingered. I understood that my future both financially and with my family was uncertain. Soon after my baptism, my friend who had been injured in the car accident with me had received a cash settlement from the insurance company and he gave me $10,000 to allow me to survive on my own without the financial support of my family. I had come to the edge of all the light I had known and I had to take a step in to the darkness and know that my Heavenly Father would support me for my decision to join the church. The next day I returned to my home and the beginning of my new life as a member of the church. With things strained with my family, I knew that my Dad was a good man and that Satan influenced a lot of his words and actions, nevertheless, there were a lot of hard feelings, but his threats proved to be hollow ones over time. Gradually, we began to speak again. I began to live the gospel the best I could. Little did I know that anyone was watching. One night in the late fall of the next year 2002, I received a phone call from my Mom. It started off as any other phone call, then my Mom said, “The missionaries knocked at the door today… and I let them in”. She then said, “ I want to know why you have changed, I have seen it in you and now I want to know what it is.” Could this have been an answer to the many prayers I had for my family to know what I had felt and knew? A month had passed by when I received another phone call from my Mom. This was the phone call that I will never forget. She asked me to baptize her! She told me she had prayed and if this is what the Lord wanted her to do than she was going to do it. It’s one thing to look back in your life and see the Lords hand in your life, but its most incredible to witness an answer to your prayers happening right there in the moment. The Lord loves us beyond our own comprehension and at that moment I felt that Love of my Savior to a degree I had never felt before in my life. After we spoke for a while about her decision, I hung up the phone and fell to my knees crying, thanking my Heavenly Father, and he was there that night as my heart swelled with love and charity. Meanwhile, back at home my Mom had to face some opposition that I had faced a year earlier, but this time the Lord was humbling my father. My father had lost his Job around the same time that my Mom had decided to join the church. Due to the lack of employment in my home things began to become uncertain, with many unpaid bills lingering and the notions of loosing the house became more and more real. Things began looking dark. One night the bishop of my home ward showed up at my home after becoming aware of my families desperate conditions and offered to help bear our burdens by relieving some of the financial pressure.
The Church was there to support my family when no one else could. As my father witnessed the miracle unfolding in front of him, he began to understand that this truly was the restored church upon the earth and the seed was planted in his heart. On November 22, 2005, I was the first to welcome my Mom into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as I baptized her in the same fount I had been baptized in one year earlier. In a church of families, my Mom and I grew together and strengthened each other. We spent many hours while I was at home staying up until the late hours of the night reading scriptures and discussing gospel principles. . Having this joy in my life, having tasted of the incredible power of the gospel blessing other peoples lives, my desires to serve a mission became more and more intense. My mother had fully embraced the restored gospel and witnessed her life change and began preparing to enter the temple so that one day we could be sealed together as a family. The idea of serving a Mission filled my soul; I wanted to tell others of the blessing that the gospel had brought to my life. Because of my car accident 2 years earlier I was legally unable to serve a mission, nevertheless, I knew that the Lord would find a way. As I pled with the Lord to serve a mission my testimony continued to grow and my Love of the gospel strengthened. My prayers were answered and yet again my righteous desires were made a reality. The Lord provided a way for me to submit my mission papers and overcome any obstacles that stood in the way. The members of my home ward fully supported my decision to serve a mission both spiritually and financially. My family was very hesitant to let me leave when I got my mission call to Costa Rica. Not fully understanding the impact my mission would have on my family, or me I entered Provo MTC on November 19, 2003. I said good-bye to my family and friends with only a little more than my testimony and a desire to serve my Heavenly Father. Not long after entering the MTC, my Mom completed one year in the church and went through the temple for the first time. I was starting to see how my service and sacrifice would set me and my family free. Having been called to speak Spanish, I spent two months in the MTC. With only two weeks before I was to leave the MTC I was called down to the mission office to speak with the MTC mission presidency. As I walked down the hall he poked his head around the corner and began singing, “ Ill go where you want me to go dear Lord “. Quite bewildered, I had no idea why the mission president counselor was singing this hymn to me. As I got closer, he stopped and said the brethren had prayed about it, and felt that my mission call should be changed to Orlando, Florida… and …. my Visa fell through.” Stunned at the large change in my life just announced to me, I accepted my new call and two weeks later I was off to Orlando. I had become used to these sudden life changing events in my life and received a confirmation in my heart that I would indeed go where the Lord wanted me to go. Orlando, Florida is home to Mickey Mouse, Hurricanes, Alligators, and The Florida Orlando Mission. Upon arriving in the mission field my love for the Savior increased and my knowledge of the Gospel was enhanced. Having only little over two years in the church I was teaching complete strangers of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the blessings that followed from living it. I began to write home every week and tell my family of the incredible experiences that my mission was bringing me. The reality of me sharing this sacred message with the whole world yet my own father and brother back home didn’t even know if it was true hit me like a ton of bricks. Missionaries are able to call home on Mothers day and weeks before I called home I learned of my families long planned vacation to Florida to visit distant relatives I had never met. Upon discovering my family’s long planed trip to Florida and my reassignment to serve in Florida, my heart leaped. The coincidences appeared to not just be happenstance, but divine intervention. I knew that the Lord was preparing my father to accept the fullness of the gospel and that his heart was softening. Before calling home I pleaded with my Heavenly Father to allow me to invite my father to baptism. With a prayer in my Heart and a confirmation of my role in my father’s conversion, I called home. Talking to your parents for the first time in five months is a very exciting moment. I spoke to my family about everything from to the food served on the plane ride to Florida, to how my sheets were fitting on my bed. My family then told me the details of their trip to Florida in late June. The Spirit whispered to me to invite my Dad to prepare himself to receive a confirmation that the church was true, that the Savior had restored it through the prophet Joseph Smith and put in order his life to be baptized when my family came to Florida. Following the Spirit’s powerful promptings I told my Father that he had the right to know what I was dedicating the two years of my to. I was spending all my might, mind and strength to bring the Restored Gospel to complete stranger’s lives and that my own father didn’t even know if it was true. He responded by telling me that he was Catholic and that he would die Catholic. I challenged him to at least think about it and he told me he would. After the phone call I was at the least encouraged, knowing that my Father was for the first time going to actually “think about it”. It was more than I could have hoped for. Soon after, my Mom’s letters to me began to increase in excitement as she told me of the missionaries contacting my father and his agreeing to speak with them. As the months passed my contentment for my father reflected in my obedience and hard work as a missionary. I knew that I had come to Florida for many reasons, but this would be the greatest reason of all. As June approached, although my Mom’s letters reflected my father’s change in attitude towards the church and my mission, his did not. Discouraged, I returned to my previous thoughts that my Father would someday be baptized, but it would be in the temple. My companion, knowing the situation, suggested that we have a fast for my father. It seemed to be too easy, but my trust in my Lord had not faltered and I was willing to do whatever it took. I had never previously fasted with such fervency as my companion and I pleaded with the heavens to turn the heart of my father. With only one week before my family was to visit me, we had just ended the day of work and returned to our apartment when the telephone rang, to my surprise I heard my father’s voice. My father began to explain that he had been sitting in church with a prayer in his heart to know the truth and he said that a deep feeling of love and warmth came over him testifying of the truth. My father felt the influence of the Holy Ghost, testifying to him of the truth. My heart raced as I listened to my father bear pure testimony to me. I began to cry as my own father asked me to baptize him when they were in Florida. With the help of the office couples in the Florida Orlando mission and the missionaries in Colorado, the details were arranged for my father’s baptism. My family picked me and my companion up from our apartment and we drove to the chapel. When we arrived the chapel was full of people I had only known for a short while. The ward that I was currently serving in , the brand new Mission President and his wife who had only arrived two days earlier, along with all of my past companions with whom I had served were there. After all the pictures were taken and we were dressed in white the service began. As I sat next to my father, the both of us dressed in white, preparing to lead my father in to waters of baptism, the Holy Ghost entered into my heart stronger than any time previous in my life. With tears of joy filling my eyes, I looked at my father sitting next to my family. I experienced heaven and felt and for the first time what eternal happiness could be, sealed to my family. On the evening of June 30, 2004, I baptized my own father in to the fold of God. thus fulfilling the promise in Malachi 3:6… turning the heart of the fathers to the children…” There comes a time when we reach the end of all the light of all we know and we have to take a step in to darkness we have to assume that one of two thins will governments fail friendships also but the savior will not
When I joined the church I thought I was taking a step away from my family. Little did I know that I was actually taking a step towards them, never denying the testimony I had once received, that Jesus Christ Lives, and He and the Eternal Father appeared to the boy Joseph restoring the Saviors Church and authority once again to the earth. Because of a 14 year olds desire to know the Savior so long ago, today I have a strengthened testimony of the Savior Jesus Christ. Now, as I am preparing to return home from my mission, I will be returning to a home where the Priesthood of God resides, where pictures of the Savior hang, and where the Gospel of Jesus Christ is studied and applied. More importantly however, I will be returning home to my temple worthy parents waiting to be sealed to me for all time and eternity. I will forever be grateful for my loving friends who had the courage to share these sacred truths of the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ with me, feeding the seed that had been planted in my heart. I found the answers to my life that I was seeking within the peculiar blue book that has change my life and my family’s life for eternity.
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