Saturday, May 20, 2006

I am a convert. There were only about 600 members, half of them inactive, when I was baptized in the country of my birth. I was nine when I joined the church. I grew up without LDS friends, without the benefit or rather, the limitations of a Mormon culture. We simply lived our lives the best way we could with the little that we knew.

When I say, we knew only a "little", I am being facetious. The only thing "little" that I knew was this: the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only true church on earth. That the priesthood, the authority to act in the name of Jesus Christ, was restored on earth through a new prophet, called of God, whose name was Joseph Smith. It was also obvious to me, at nine years old, that I could never abandon this church and that the gospel is what fuels the organization that we call the 'church'.

What I intend to write about are my growing experiences while being carried into the land of the restoration: America. I am an immigrant to the nation where this restored church was organized. It has been quite a life. My experiences have been varied. Some are bitter. Most are enlightening. Most of what I am about to write about may be hard to read. But these are my experiences. I claim them. I own them. And this is my story.

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