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01:18:20 pm on September 9, 2010 |
I guess my conversion started before I met the missionaries. It was on my 29th birthday, and I was very sad. Here I was a single mom of a three year old, living in a room, in someone’s else’s apartment. I was working part-time. I had nothing and knew I was going nowhere in life. I was thinking something had to change. I didn’t like where I was.
The next month I took a second job at a local market. Well, one day when I was leaving, I saw these two young men, standing a few registers over. Something told me to follow them, so I did. I followed them down the street, a cross a busy street, to where I finally caught up to them. I said hello and told them I knew a little bit about their church. They smiled and asked if they could come to my home. I said I don’t know, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. I agreed to have them over.
I didn’t know what was I doing, but they came and left. I thought, “I hope they don’t come back,” but I made an another appointmen anyway. The second time they came, WOW, a strong presence was there with them. It was amazing.
I continued to take the discussions, but wasn’t ready to commit. During this time I went to church every Sunday. I stopped doing all the “bad” things I had been doing. I went to every activity. I really loved it. I knew I had found “home”. I finally came home. I finally was baptised three months later.
Though things were hard afterwards, I never gave up and always had a smile on my face. What kept me going was knowing I was loved. I never had that growing up. I never knew I had a Father in Heaven that loved me. It will be fifteen years in December and I love it ever so much.