The beginning of my Mormon Journey
I was not born a Mormon.
I was not raised a Mormon.
But I became one.
And here is the story of how - and not the least, why:
Growing up I had a protestant mum and a catholic dad. We only went to church when there was a special occasion, but in small ways they still taught me to believe in God. At night my mum sang me a song that goes something like this:
Loving God you hold me tight
When I go to bed at night.
I am safe with those who love me,
dearest God please never leave me
Please take care of big and small,
Now goodnight to one and all.
This song I think is the main reason I believed in God as a child and I still feel this safety when hearing it or singing it myself to my children.
But a song would not lead me for the rest of my life. My teenage years came, I moved away when I was 15 to be able to attend senior high school as it was far away from where I lived. I remember crying the very first night alone, but that seemed to be it. Life was about to start for real. i had three busy years filled of ups and downs. As I turned 18 and faced moving to the city and working and studying, I really felt my life was starting. At this time someone in my immediate family was investigating the Church and told me that last time they were there, the youth were playing bandy. As I was very active at the time, playing soccer, handball and icehockey, it sounded like fun. So I came with them. On a Sunday. No bandy. I was dissapointed at that, but wrote in my diary after that first time that I had felt some kind of peace inside me, that I had not felt before, while at church.
i started to see the missionaries. They were fun and spiritual, all rolled up in one. I enjoyed my time with them and found it interesting learning about their faith. But they kept asking me to pray about what they had taught me, so that I could know for myself that what they said was true. I postponed for quite a while. Then eventually, I did say a prayer, kinda like: Dear God, are you there? Amen.
Quick enough to not get any answer. Because frankly, finding God was not on my list. I had my renewed freedom and had no intentions of starting to live a life where I knew I would have to make quite a few changes. I just didn't want to.
So time started ticking. I finally decided to tell the missionaries not to come anymore. I did not want to waste their time anymore. But still, I kinda felt I owed it to them to pray, at least one last time, this time for real, so that I could at least say that I had tried.
I remembered the story of Joseph and therefore headed for a big tree up the hills and towards a forest. I knelt down, facing the fjord way below, closed my eyes. I cannot remember my words, but I sure remember the answer. As I prayed, all my confusion went away, from top to bottom, as a tangible wave passing through my body. I got a distinct feeling that God was real and that getting baptized would be the start of my journey back to my heavenly home.
The feeling of joyful peace filled my body. I opened my eyes as the sun broke through the clouds and literally lit up my pathway to heaven. It was indeed a very special experience.
I felt such lightness afterward, it truly filled me with joy knowing that God was real, and I had no hesitation anymore on the subject of baptism. So in July 1992 my journey started. I was 18 and life changed, not only for then, but for the rest of my life.
As I walked down towards the church on my baptism day, someone asked me: " Do you really know what you're doing?" And I answered yes. Although people around me thought I was crazy and said I would grow out of it, I knew that I wouldn't. This was not a spur of the moment thing, a fancy of sorts.
This was real. I knew God lived and I knew I was doing the right thing. I never grew out of it. I grew into it, or maybe it was it that grew into me. It saved my life, and it continues to save my life. And it gives me strength to cope with life as it sometimes turns me inside out. But I know where I can find peace, and I will treasure it always.
Katinka
PS! If you want to follow my blog, like my facebookpage: My Mormon journey - and life:
https://www.facebook.com/My-Mormon-journey-and-life-205935556435238/?skip_nax_wizard=true
Growing up I had a protestant mum and a catholic dad. We only went to church when there was a special occasion, but in small ways they still taught me to believe in God. At night my mum sang me a song that goes something like this:
Loving God you hold me tight
When I go to bed at night.
I am safe with those who love me,
dearest God please never leave me
Please take care of big and small,
Now goodnight to one and all.
This song I think is the main reason I believed in God as a child and I still feel this safety when hearing it or singing it myself to my children.
But a song would not lead me for the rest of my life. My teenage years came, I moved away when I was 15 to be able to attend senior high school as it was far away from where I lived. I remember crying the very first night alone, but that seemed to be it. Life was about to start for real. i had three busy years filled of ups and downs. As I turned 18 and faced moving to the city and working and studying, I really felt my life was starting. At this time someone in my immediate family was investigating the Church and told me that last time they were there, the youth were playing bandy. As I was very active at the time, playing soccer, handball and icehockey, it sounded like fun. So I came with them. On a Sunday. No bandy. I was dissapointed at that, but wrote in my diary after that first time that I had felt some kind of peace inside me, that I had not felt before, while at church.
i started to see the missionaries. They were fun and spiritual, all rolled up in one. I enjoyed my time with them and found it interesting learning about their faith. But they kept asking me to pray about what they had taught me, so that I could know for myself that what they said was true. I postponed for quite a while. Then eventually, I did say a prayer, kinda like: Dear God, are you there? Amen.
Quick enough to not get any answer. Because frankly, finding God was not on my list. I had my renewed freedom and had no intentions of starting to live a life where I knew I would have to make quite a few changes. I just didn't want to.
So time started ticking. I finally decided to tell the missionaries not to come anymore. I did not want to waste their time anymore. But still, I kinda felt I owed it to them to pray, at least one last time, this time for real, so that I could at least say that I had tried.
I remembered the story of Joseph and therefore headed for a big tree up the hills and towards a forest. I knelt down, facing the fjord way below, closed my eyes. I cannot remember my words, but I sure remember the answer. As I prayed, all my confusion went away, from top to bottom, as a tangible wave passing through my body. I got a distinct feeling that God was real and that getting baptized would be the start of my journey back to my heavenly home.
The feeling of joyful peace filled my body. I opened my eyes as the sun broke through the clouds and literally lit up my pathway to heaven. It was indeed a very special experience.
I felt such lightness afterward, it truly filled me with joy knowing that God was real, and I had no hesitation anymore on the subject of baptism. So in July 1992 my journey started. I was 18 and life changed, not only for then, but for the rest of my life.
As I walked down towards the church on my baptism day, someone asked me: " Do you really know what you're doing?" And I answered yes. Although people around me thought I was crazy and said I would grow out of it, I knew that I wouldn't. This was not a spur of the moment thing, a fancy of sorts.
This was real. I knew God lived and I knew I was doing the right thing. I never grew out of it. I grew into it, or maybe it was it that grew into me. It saved my life, and it continues to save my life. And it gives me strength to cope with life as it sometimes turns me inside out. But I know where I can find peace, and I will treasure it always.
Katinka
PS! If you want to follow my blog, like my facebookpage: My Mormon journey - and life:
https://www.facebook.com/My-Mormon-journey-and-life-205935556435238/?skip_nax_wizard=true
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