I have a memory of when I was almost four. I was sitting on someone's lap. I am not sure who. I was attending a baptism. My mother, father, and older brother were being baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I have very few other memories from that age, and some of them aren't worth remembering. Because less than two years later, my parents began a very messy, very ugly divorce. It took almost 6 years for it to end completely, because my dad (doing what he thought was in our best interest) kidnapped us. And it went all the way to the governor of Georgia before it was resolved.
For the circumstances, my dad did a good job raising us. There was a lot of travel, not much money, and a lot of work. My dad wasn't perfect and some of the things he did were hurtful, but I never doubted that he loved us. I know he was doing the best he could under very difficult circumstances. I loved my dad and brother and my extended family. We did not attend church regularly through my young years. But, I do have memories of primary.
I remember the first time I knew the church was true. I was six. We were living in Georgia. We were attending sacrament meeting in a rented building and we sat in folding chairs. It was fast and testimony meeting and I must have been listening. Because I remember standing and bearing my testimony to all those people and crying my little heart out and my daddy hugging me after. I am not sure I could have even know what it was that was true. But I felt it in my little heart.
I had a loving and caring aunt and Granny and any female talents I learned, came from them. I'm so glad the Lord had a backup provision for me in this area, but let me tell ya, when I was all "growed" up, I was lacking just a bit. I also had great exposure through friends to really wonderful moms, some of whom I really connected to and looked up to and still appreciated their influence on me at a critical time in my life. I also was blessed with kind and caring young women's leaders. But, I'm ahead of myself.
When I was 12, someone had the sense of mind to make sure that I went to girl's camp. Girl's camp changed my life. I made connections and friends. We moved after that Summer and even though I was devastated to move, there were new friends where I was going that I met at camp, and who put their arms around me and made me feel welcome. I became active in the church that year, and attended with my friends most of the time. I attended girl's camp and youth conference every year and my testimony grew each year.
Somewhere in my senior year, I began thinking about my mother. I had only seen her briefly one time in all those years. With the emphasis on family, I wondered if she missed me; if she was sorry for the past; whether she ever wanted to see me. So, when I graduated and went to BYU, it was natural for me to want to contact her.
Some friends in a club I joined at BYU, planned a trip to California. I got up the courage and called her. She wanted me to prove that I was her daughter. She could not believe I would call her. But she was finally convinced and we began a conversation. When I told her I'd like to come and see her, meet her, spend some time with her, she readily agreed. In fact, she helped pay my way there. We had a tentative pleasant first visit together.
We began a hesitant relationship. It was a challenge trying to figure out what I would call her. We exchanged letters over time. She sent me gifts. She told me she loved me. I was careful. Then there was a terrible misunderstanding that created a horrible blow up in my extended family. It would take too much space to go into the details, but in the end, I was forced to choose. I didn't want to choose. So, I did nothing. I was only 18 years old. I did not know I had the power to do what I felt was right. And so, I did nothing. I was really very confused and my heart was torn.
That Fall, I went back to BYU. The situation was not resolved, words were left unsaid. The spirit began to whisper. "Call your mother." Like a drum beat it went on for days. I finally called and got an answering machine. I didn't leave a message. The drum beat continued, day after day, louder and louder. I called again. I left a message. I didn't leave my number. Why didn't I leave my number? I don't really know.
A month later, my mother was dead by her own hand. If I shared all the details, it would be easy for you to imagine, that I felt I was responsible. I felt it was completely my fault. I felt that if only I had called more, had reached her, had talked to her, had figured out a way to make it work, that she would not have made that choice. There is no pain like regret. The feeling that you were responsible for something; you did not follow through; and now nothing can be done to make it right.
Over time, some of those falsehoods resolved. At the time, I had a few very caring friends and roommates around me, for which I could not have made it through that awful time. But, the experience taught me some things. There are only two things important in this life, the first one is relationships. Never ignore the promptings of the spirit. Following the promptings may or may not have made a difference, but perhaps I might have had more peace of mind had I been more valiant in that.
Anyone who truly knows me, knows I will drop EVERYTHING for a friend or family member in need. I never ever want to repeat feeling like I could have done something and didn't. I do what I can and sometimes to a fault. Sometimes my family is left waiting, sometimes my husband, but in some ways, I feel like it is a personal ministry. But each of us has that responsibility. I've just been blessed to realize it. I HATE more than anything, when someone is hurting or in pain, NOT being able to help.
Nothing will ever compare to the depth and breadth of emotions I felt that day and the weeks and months after. At least I hope nothing ever will. I suppose, there may be things in life that might. But, I count my life precious and those around me that I love. If you have a mom or dad or sibling or friend that you need to resolve something with, and reach out, and forgive, and love again, please do it, so that you can live your life without regrets.
