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G o d

When I was about fifteen, I had this amazing friend. Her name was Geovanna and she was the beginning of everything. Geovanna was one of those girls who was different. She was edgy, she pushed boundaries, and she encouraged all of her loved ones to always think outside the box and to never settled. Now, Geovana had always made me think about things that were, in my opinion, stupid, but one time she got the ball rolling on something that changed my life forever. She encouraged me to think about my relationship with God and where I stood on religion. I will never forget that day and the thirst I had to find God from that day on.

The first place I looked for God was in the internet because if any of us have a question about something, or want to know more about a certain topic, where do we go? The wonderful, ugly, sometimes sketchy, internet.

Buddhism. Catholics. Islam. Non Denomination Christianity. Jehovah’ s Witness.

You name it, I questioned it. I remember specifically going to a Non-Denom and praying so deeply to feel God. I remember feeling this huge hunger and thirst in my soul to know Him, but I never felt Him. I began to think He wasn’t even there. How could a God be so silent to a little girl who was suffering?

So, this little hunt for God, and a religion that would make me feel, went on for a long time. I searched and prayed my heart out. I remember specifically, one day crying on the ground screaming “where are you?” “ Don’t you even care?”. My heart yearned for something deep. For something more. I knew what I needed was God and I wasn’t going to give up on finding Him and it didn’t matter how long this journey took.

Let’s fast forward two years.

Seventeen year old Kenny. A young women, who suffered severely from depression and anxiety, and felt alone. I felt alone because I was suffering and it’s as if no one understood me. I had plenty of friends, and a few family members who would talk to me, but I felt as if no one understood me deep down. I felt so misunderstood and like an outsider. I was lost and I needed God more then ever before.

and He knew it, and He FINALLY spoke.

I was standing outside of my high school, waiting for the bus so I could go home, when I saw two young men riding on their bikes towards me. Missionaries. Mormon Missionaries. My natural reaction was to be rude and send them on their way, but then something reminded me that I am searching for God and I should talk to them. After those thoughts, I humbled myself, threw on a smile and waved at them. I could tell by the shock look on their face that people didn’t normally wave them down, but I wanted something from them. I wanted to know what these boys where sharing and if it was for me.

After formal introduction, we began chatting. To be honest, I don’t even remember what we were talking about, but I remember specifically when Elder Henderson said this one thing in particular. “Religion shouldn’t be confusing, you should be able to pray about it, and know.”

BOOM. WHAT.THE.HECK.

When Elder Henderson said those words, I was mentally paralyzed. How did He know I was thinking those things? How did he know that’s how I felt about religion? I was so shocked by what he said, that when I saw my bus, I instantly told them I had to leave. But, being the good missionaries that they were, they asked me if they could come by and share more. I said sure, kind of still thinking about what the Elders said, but I really wasn’t expecting much.

Fast forward a few weeks.

Two Missionaries showed up. Elder Anderson and Elder Busselburg. They were super nice, and eager to teach me. So they did, they taught me.And oh, did I grow and stretch over those few months. I had so many questions, so many confusion, and so many complications. I had family members show me articles about the Mormon church and try to convince me that they were evil and racist. I even had friends that told me crazy things about the church, just to convince me not to get baptized. Heck, my own parents wouldn’t even allow the missionaries to teach me at my home anymore. BUT NONE OF THAT STOPPED ME. After many tears, and heartfelt prayers, I began to stop caring. I stop caring because I knew what I felt when I was with the missionaries, I knew how i felt when I was at church, and that trumped everyone’s thoughts and opinions on any day.

Fast forward a few months later.

I’m sitting in church, in relief society to be precise, with my new friend Bethany, and the Relief Society President get us and starts talking about this thing called “Visiting Teaching”. I leaned over to Beth and asked her ” what’s Visiting Teaching?” and she said “it’s where you meet up with a woman, whom you’re assigned to, and check on her, and share a spiritual message.” When Beth told me this, I oddly got super excited! How fun is that? Going to someone’s house and sharing a spiritual message? How amazing! I asked Beth “ do you have to be a member to be a Visiting Teacher? and she says “ yeah, I think so”. Somehow in that moment, I knew I wanted to be baptized. Now, I’m pretty sure you guys are all like “she wanted to join the church to be a Visiting Teacher”? NO. I didn’t want to join the church because I wanted to become and Visiting Teacher. I wanted to join the church because I wanted to become a part of this wonderful environment that I felt. It felt like a family. A really nice family. I felt nothing but goodness when I was with this family, and I knew I wanted this happiness apart of my life. Yeah, I didn’t completely understand everything and I wasn’t fully converted when I joined the church, but I felt something I never had before, and I knew what I felt was God.

God spoke. I listen. I followed.

June 30th, 2012 in Carmichael Stake Center in California, I was baptized in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. This was the best day of my life. A day I will never forget. But this wasn’t the end, this was simply my beginning.

From this moment on, I’ve grown. I have had my ups and downs, my faith filled moments, sprinkled with moments of doubts, but through it all I have conquered. I have grown through the hard times of losing friends, and through the hard times of being yelled at by people who think I’m involved in a cult, but you know what? None of that matters because I know what I am doing is supported by God, and I know through it all, I have come to know His son. I’ve come to feel his redeeming love, grace and mercy. I know Jesus Christ lives, and I know I am a part of His church.

I know it, I know it, I know it. And now I share it. What’s your story?

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