Burn in Hell! Mormons are evil! LDS=Liars, Deceivers, Seducers! Your God is Satan! The Cult of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints!
“Seriously? What’s wrong with people?” Zach paused in the middle of the sidewalk, his tall, muscular frame complimented by his jet-black suit. Disgust and disbelief plastered on his handsome face as his lips tightened in disappointment.
“I know, it’s ridiculous,” I agreed, adding an eye roll for emphasis. Our expressions mimicked one another, causing our facial features to stand out in an almost twin-like manner. Despite him being much taller, stronger, and balder than me, there was never any doubt we were siblings—especially when we smiled.
I sighed loudly, “Here we are, taking time to learn about Jesus Christ and how to be better people, and these turds have nothing better to do but belittle us.” I adjusted my bright pink pencil skirt and black top, cursing the way my clothing always slid out of place because of my curves. My eyes scanned the slough of anti-mormon protesters that lined the opposite side of the road, a stark contrast to the steady flow of giddy Latter-Day Saints flocking to the April 2017 General Conference.
It was an absolutely gorgeous day. The bright blue sky was dotted with thin, white clouds. Warm sunlight casted soft, golden rays on everything it touched. Trees, dressed in blooms of white, pink, purple, and yellow flowers rustled with every soft breath of cool breeze that danced through their branches. If you concentrated hard enough and blocked out the angry cries from the protesters, there was a happy melody of mother nature mixed with bubbly, excited voices that was actually quite uplifting.
“This is…just a shame,” Dad chimed in, his voice breaking with disappointment and exhaustion as he and Mom shuffled to a stop next to us.
Zach moved closer and draped a heavily muscled arm across Dad’s aging shoulders. Unlike Zach’s well-fitted suit, Dad’s suit swallowed his frame, showcasing how much weight he’d lost over the years.
I returned my gaze to the protesters, taking it all in and saying nothing more as we studied the disrespectful crowd. We had been warned about this. We were told to ignore those on the other side of the road, to not engage in any discussion or argument with them, but I hadn’t realized just how hard that was going to be.
One protester—an overweight, middle-aged man with a tye-dyed “I Love Jesus” shirt—screamed at the top of his lungs. Veins bulged from his neck and forehead as he spit bitter persecutions at the innocent attendees. I couldn’t make sense of his delusional rants, but words like fools, mind control, and damnation were thrown around as he trudged back and forth in the crosswalk. He thrusted his homemade sign in the air, the red lettering that read “Repent or Perish!” matching the crimson on his soured face.
“Dude better be careful…He might just keel over from a heart attack if he doesn’t calm down,” I scoffed, attempting to lighten the mood.
Zach removed his arm from Dad’s shoulders. His lips curled into a sly smile and pressed his dimples into their full depths. Patting Dad on the back, he joked, “Imagine his surprise if he does and wakes up on the other side to find a set of missionaries ready to teach him the gospel!”
I grinned at our slightly inappropriate humor. Zach and I had always been masters at cracking jokes. Anytime we got together, it was like throwing a lit match into a bucket of kerosene. It became second nature for us to build on each other’s humor, often pushing it past the line of politically incorrect and socially taboo.
I loved it.
“Damn it!” Dad laughed, oblivious to the few shocked faces staring at him with jaws gaped open.
My grin widened as I shook my head in his direction. He had come a long way from the inactive, chain-smoking, angry, military man he used to be, but his habit of cussing still popped up on the regular. This phrase in particular has become a tagline of his.
“Gees, John, really? We’re right outside the Conference Center,” Mom grumbled, embarrassed at Dad’s jovial callousness.
“Oh, he’s fine, Mom. Even J. Golden Kimball cussed from time to time, and he was an apostle!” I smiled, already pleased with what I was about to say next. “You know what he said about swearing, don’t you?”
Mom cocked her head to the side and rolled her eyes, knowing me well enough to know she wasn’t going to be as entertained by what I was about to share as I was.
My grin turned upward even more, pushing my high cheekbones into my squinty eyes. “He said he’s not worried about going to Hell for swearing…because he repents too damn fast!’”
“Damn it!” Zach said, perfectly replicating Dad’s tone. He high-fived me as the three of us burst into laughter. A couple onlookers laughed along with us, not even trying to hide the fact they were eavesdropping.
Mom tried not to smile, but her resolve weakened as our laughter grew. Pointing her finger at the three of us, she scolded, “Keep it up. We’ll see who’s laughing when I have to visit all three of you in Hell.”
Lightheartedness washed over us, de-escalating our earlier moods, and putting a little more pep in our step as we continued towards the Conference Center. I grabbed my phone and streamed a short LIVE video to my social media feed.
It was such an innocent action, one I used to do on a nearly daily basis at the time, but not something I do very often anymore. Little did I know back then that this video would end up being one I would watch over and over.
I continued streaming as we approached the set of concrete stairs. Zach stopped, noticing Mom falling behind, and reached out his large hand.
“Come on, Mom. I got you,” he encouraged, and then helped walk Mom the rest of the way up the stairs as I signed off my LIVE.
It took about twenty more minutes to finally get inside and find seats. The inside of the Conference Center was incredible. The huge brass organ pipes rang out loudly as the choir’s voices swelled, commanding my attention and sending chills throughout my body. I let my eyes dance around the expansive room. The architecture of the balconies was beautiful and inspiring, and the desire to capture another short moment overwhelmed me.
Once again, I pulled out my phone and went LIVE on Facebook.
Zach and I spent the next little bit bantering back and forth and making the people in front of us crack up. I can’t remember all the details, but know they consisted of him accusing me of being adopted, and me telling him the joke was on him for actually sharing DNA with our family.
Conference itself was great, and truly an experience I wish every member of my church could take part in at least once in their lives. There was something so powerful about being there, surrounded by over 20,000 others who shared my faith and desire to pursue personal and spiritual growth. I could feel the love of Christ exuding from each of the men and women who spoke, and by the time our session was over, my spirit was beyond edified.
That is, until we walked back outside and were greeted once again by angry protesters. As much as I wanted to lay into them, I knew if I did, I’d lose the remaining good feelings I had just experienced. It wasn’t worth it…wasn’t worth risking having that feeling of being spiritually edified fade away.
Fast forward seven years to this weekend.
Jon and I decided to sneak in a date the night before another General Conference. We first spent time doing some work in the temple, and while we were there, I quietly prayed to get that feeling of being spiritually edified back.
You see, for reasons I’m not quite ready to fully discuss, I’ve had a hard time feeling the Spirit the last few months. My testimony hasn’t changed at all. My dedication to seeking the Lord and His purpose for my life hasn’t changed either (except maybe in the sense that I feel even more dedicated to doing so!). My love of the gospel hasn’t changed. But our family has gone through the ringer in many ways since Zach died, and a few months ago we were faced with the ultimate hardship we never thought we’d have to face.
Again, my testimony isn’t shaken, but there has been a numbness in me that was longing to feel connected to God in a bigger, louder, more evident way…in a way that was more powerful than the fear and anger I’ve been burdened with since December.
As I sat in the temple Friday night, I silently asked God to give me something, anything, that would show me He was aware of me, or that I was where He wanted me to be, or maybe even just a reminder of what I’ve felt so many times before.
While I did have nods here and there, and had a moment where I felt guided through reading the scriptures regarding some next steps, I didn’t really feel anything big. The nods I encountered were very matter-of-fact, almost like they were more in my head than in my heart I guess. Still, good. But not what I was hoping for.
I tried not to be disappointed and figured I got what I asked for, even if I didn’t ask for what I really wanted, which was something clear, evident, and powerful.
After we finished at the temple, we decided to grab dinner. Originally, we were going to stop at the local Hibachi place, but something nudged at me, and we ended up going to Longhorn Steakhouse instead.
Jon and I sat at our table, enjoying our conversation, and waited patiently for our food. It arrived quickly, and from that first bite, we were in heaven!
Guys, we’ve been to Longhorn before many times. But this time! This time, the food was so dang good!
Everything was done to perfection, and Jon wanted the manager to know. So he asked our server to send the manager over, and after a few minutes of paying compliments to the manager, I had a small whisper come to my mind.
“Could you tell me,” I asked, “What’s the cook’s name?”
He thought for a second and then smiled, “It’s Zach…Here, I’ll write it down for you and if you decide to leave a survey, you can include it there.”
POW!
Just like that, my moment came. The numbness was instantly gone. I know it’s silly. I know it’s not like my brother was the one who cooked our meal, but it just felt way too divine to be a coincidence.
The next two days, Jon, the kids, and I, all sat at home, enjoying the latest sessions of General Conference on TV. I watched as the camera spanned the outside and inside of the conference center. I listened as the choir’s voices accompanied the large brass organ pipes. And I let myself be filled with the Spirit of the Lord as men and women, who, just like me, are trying to draw closer to Christ and to grow in their purpose, shared messages of hope, faith, love, forgiveness, and perseverance.
And I thought of Zach.
I thought of how much it meant to me that I got to experience being at General Conference for the first time with my brother and my parents. I thought about how, even when you’re doing the best you can to be in the right place with the right people at the right time, there’s going to be opposition, naysayers, and a whole lot of noise to distract you. I thought about how much the little moments matter, and how important it is to keep fighting to feel God, even when the numbness is heavy.
One of the messages shared this weekend was given by a man named Elder Alexander Dushku. He spoke about how, oftentimes, we’re wanting God to send us a pillar of light—an overwhelming, big, momentous burst of truth or knowledge. But, he said, “Rather than sending us a pillar of light, the Lord sends us a ray of light, and then another, and another.”
More times than not, this is exactly the way God shows me He’s there. With a little nod, a little ray so to speak.
Elder Dushku continued, “The reality and power of one ray of testimony reinforces and combines with another, and then another, and another. Line upon line, precept upon precept, here a ray and there a ray—one small, treasured spiritual moment at a time—there grows up within us a core of light-filled, spiritual experiences. Perhaps no one ray is strong enough to constitute a full testimony, but together they can become a light the darkness of doubt cannot overcome.”
I’m so grateful for the many little rays I’ve had in my lifetime, for all the rays that God continues to give me. I know that as long as I treasure them, I’ll be able to add each one to the pillar of truth I’m forging, and that pillar will be what guides me through the darkness, the noise, and the moments of numbness.
In case you’re interested, here’s Elder Dushku’s talk:
And for those looking to kill 10 hours or so, click on the image below to access the rest of the talks given during General Conference this time around:
