As promised I am going to share my conversion story into the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. There was preparation in this conversion so I have been as open and explanative as I possibly can be.
Back in 1998 my lifelong friend died whilst out for his last ride on his motorbike before selling it and converting to a car. Noone is really sure what happened other than he went underneath a lorry and died instantly. Mark wasn't a manic driver, he was well seasoned to all kinds of road conditions and often went out with other bikers for runs, just like this last journey. The lorry driver was in no way to blame for what happened yet I know he lives with it every day and has suffered dearly for it, even though in his common sense he knows it was 'just one of those freakish things'. Mark left behind a wife who was his best friend, both planning on leaving their marriage to persue other lives. They have 2 children, at the time they were 14 and 10 and so close to their dad (and their mum) that this loss was just too much for them to bear. I cannot imagine what those kids went through.
I have to talk about the relationship between Mark and myself to get a full and honest understanding of my conversion. Marks mum and my mum went to school together and had remained friends after. Growing up Mark only bothered with me as a cover story, when he had a date in town he would say he's taking me to the cinema, only i'd sit by a fountain for hours on end waiting for him to come back!!! If he was in a super good mood I would even get an ice cream!! Lol Yet I idolised him, I so loved him. Mark was 4 years older than me and both our mums had us married off to each other soon as we became legal!! Lol However, that was never meant to be because his wife planned their first child and Mark done the right thing and married her. They made a good couple and made a good, if not problematic life for each other. Kay always knew the kind of friendship Mark and I had developed, she always accepted it and was totally ok about it. It's important to know that Mark and I were never, ever intimate, we just didn't go there and it was never part of who we were. But when Mark would randomly turn up at all strange times of the day and night he would fuss my kids, make the coffee (when I used to drink it) and help me out with anything I needed doing. We would cuddle on the sofa and talk about life, childhood and all the things we've been doing.
Out the blue one day he came over one evening when my two boys and I were cuddling on the sofa having a movie night. Kirsten being a baby and sleeping in her bed, we turned off the lights and cuddled up. The door knocked and in walked Mark! My boys loved it when he came, no matter what time it was he would let them sit on his bike and pretend to ride it. That night was no exception. Eventually Mark put the boys to bed, made a drink and told me to sit. This was not his style at all so I wondered what was wrong. In short he was leaving Kay, they agreed on it and were agreed that they are best friends but neither was getting what they wanted anymore but they were worried about the kids. After months of negotiations that I didn't get a clue about, they had decided to tell the kids and tell them their new plans when Mark moved out. In all of this Mark hinted that his feelings for me had changed. I was stunned, I never expected this and I didn't know how I felt about it.
Over the next couple of months I had anonymous emails and messages on ICQ containing info that only Mark would have known yet when I challenged his identity he went quiet. Slowly accepted that one day he would tell me but right then, he was doing something that worked for him while all the time being aware that I was slightly freaked out. He was always a gentleman and that's another clue, in his mannerisms etc.
One Sunday night I had a feeling that I should call him, but I put it off because I had friends over from the Netherlands. I knew I had offended Mark when someone else fixed my computer for me, but I also knew he'd get over it! I wish with all my heart I had called him that Sunday night.
The following Friday I took my friends to Heathrow airport. We dropped them off and went off down to Kent to meet up with some friends for the weekend. I had my older three children with me and my neice who lived with me during the week. Before getting to David and Carrie's house I called my mum to let her know I had Sam and would she tell my brother. But there was noone home. I called every family member I could but noone was around. Eventually I got hold of my sister in law (brothers wife) and told her we will be back Sunday. She was given strict instructions to NOT tell me anything but to urgently get me to call my mum asap. But being the person she was she had to tell me and this is how the conversation went. I will never forget it.
L: Have you heard?
Me: Heard what?
L: About Mark?
Me: what about him?
L: Deb, haven't you heard about him?
Me: NO!
L: Well (that tone in her voice now of obvious enjoyment)
Me: Dont tell me that L, I dont wanna hear it, its not true.
L: Yep, on Wednesday, he died under a lorry.
At which point I collapsed on the floor. I was in a services payphone, it was 19th August and I soon became surrounded by strangers wanting to help. This was not happening. I know he said that when his time is up its up, and what better way to go that on his bike? But PLEASE! He was 34, a father, my best mate, my mentor, my life. How could he do this?
That was the start of an emotional slippery slope for me that lasted 5 years in all before I could accept he was no longer on this earth.
Messages and emails suddenly stopped. I knew it was him. His mum, my auntie Bev took comfort in me cos 1. I was the daughter she never had (she had 4 boys) and 2. cos she knew the bond between Mark and I. Yet I could see her slipping away before me, she was a tough woman but could not cope losing her child, her first born. My heart ached more and more.
Moving to Great Yarmouth quite out the blue I needed to break away from my abusive marriage and damaging family. The morning after I got there, there was a knock at the door. The removal guys had left ALL my furniture on the downstairs of the house, knowing there was only me and 2 of my kids who were 10 and 3 at the time and not able to move anything on our own. The kids settled to sleep around 1am on the bedroom floor huddled up under a blanket while I sat on top of a wardrobe which was in the hallway and for the first time in my life I gave up. I felt my light flicker out. I had messed up this time.
The house was a terraced so as the front door was blocked with my dishwasher I had to run all round the back of the other four houses and back up the street. When I got there two things happened. First I panicked cos I realised I had a SHORT nightdress on and second cos I had FOUR very tall, very big build young men staring at me with bright white shirts and the biggest smiles ever. My heart sank and my mouth went dry.
These guys introduced themselves to me as Missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and could they do anything to help. Oh boy. How did they know? Mind block turned to my acceptance of their offer of help to move furniture. First they had to go and get changed but they assured me they would be back in an hour and they would do all they could to help me get organised.
I was so grateful for the help, the only person I knew in that area was my long term friend Lisa who lived two doors away and she was working! Now normally you only get TWO missionaries going door to door so I look back now and am so grateful that divine inspiration intervened when I need it most and send me four strong guys! Over the next 9 months or so I had the missionaries over for dinner at least twice a week, they would call in when they were around and we'd chat, share scriptures or they'd play ball with Jaymie on the front of the house. I didn't really take too much serious for quite a while, I was struggling with the common misconception that God couldn't be a loving and just God if he took someone so good and had so much living to do as well as leaving his kids behind. It just didn't make sense.
Then one day another new missionary turned up, Elder Baker. He and I clicked immediately and he sat patiently answering all my questions, explained gospel principles and helped me understand many, many things in my life. Elder Baker didn't only help me when he visited but he would call every night to go through some inspired thoughts, scriptures and anything else he came across to help me understand why and how etc. During December 1999 Elder Baker asked if I would like to be baptised, without thinking or letting him finish his sentence I said a loud, Yes!
At this point I had covered many things in my life, why this and how that. I began to understand why some things happen to me and that I wasn't really the odd one out anywhere I just had different views on parenting, on being who I am etc. My baptism date was set for 16th January 2000. Gorleston Ward was BIG, I had met many great people who became good friends and all helped my conversion and fellowshipped me unselfishly and unconditionally.
My conversion was deep for me. As a child I was sexually abused by my uncle, another uncle knew about it but never spoke up. To this day nothing has ever been done about it. I had gone through a pretty violent marriage ending, been a punchbag for two of my siblings and pretty much set aside by my parents for the needs of them. I was labelled the low maintenance child, the example, the common sense and the strength of the family. But I didn't feel like I was any of those things, I didn't want to be any of those things either and inside I was screaming to get out. Moving to Great Yarmouth was my desperate attempt to find myself, to get my life in control etc. I had so much pain, frustration and uncertainties inside me, and for once I had noone to turn to, where was Mark when I needed him most?
I lay on the sofa one night and in my head I said 'Mark, if you are here, warm me up, I'm cold and I miss you so badly'. Almost immediately I felt warm, I felt his presence around me and I felt a peace that I hadn't felt for years. Mark was real still. I asked if he had sent the missionaries to me and I felt a very strong 'yes I did' in my gut, almost like a burning feeling. I knew then that being baptised was the right thing to do. He loved me enough to show me the way to go. He always knew I'd investigated religions but never felt anything with any of them. I asked him if this church was true and again my feelings were strong and burning. I went on to pray to God, I knew He was the one that I should be talking to. The spirit burnt within me so strong, so powerful that I cried. I cried for almost 4 hours solid. I could not cry for mark up until that moment but now it was all coming out. Losing Mark bought its blessings but having him for 34 years was equally a blessing and something so special it can never be repeated again, not in this lifetime. God knew how and when to get to me, whatever reason He had for taking Mark I will find out another time but for now I am trying to remember how I got here, and what it all means.
The following three years were still difficult for me because I still couldn't find a way to accept that Mark was not around me physically. I missed him so much, our silly conversations, his silly comments, his analysis on life, his non judgement of anyone and constant search for being better than he was 5 minutes ago. I missed him so bad.
My baptism was phenominal. I'll talk about that some other time, right now i'm feeling a little raw.
