As I contemplate my life, and my relationship with Christ during this Easter season, I want to share my story, my journey to Christ. During high school, when a lot of teens are struggling to find out who they are and where they belong, I was part of the group that knew a lot of people but didn't really fit in any group. I felt ugly, unpopular, and unloved. I started to feel depressed and completely alone. I was hurting so much inside. I felt like no one understood, that I was a burden on those around me. I found myself literally thinking of ways to leave this earth. I felt like everyone around me would be better off if I was gone. Unfortunately, one day, when I was feeling extremely low, I took handfuls of my medication. Then I went for a walk. I truly wanted to die, but when I started feeling really sick, I called my friends and they took me to the hospital. I was put in the psych ward for teens battling suicide, and drug and alcohol abuse. I felt sick and angry. I wouldn't see my mother. My friends didn't want to come see me because I was "the crazy one". I spent two weeks going to group sessions, one on one therapy meetings with psychologists, and hating every moment. I did not feel any more loved. And when I went to school, it was worse. Everyone knew what I had done and while some kids were kind, others were not. My senior year, I tried suicide again and was not successful. And one of my good friends fathers told me in no certain terms that I needed to stop being so selfish, that I needed to see how many people love ME and how it would devastate them all if I were to succeed. Somehow, I managed to graduate high school, I moved out of my mom's house and moved out on my own. The next three years, I worked full time and spent time going out with my friends. Looking back, I realize that I was still punishing myself. I was taking risks, not taking care of myself, passively hurting myself. I told myself I was having fun, but inside, I was still hurting.
When I was 21, I met an amazing man. He was funny, he was a good friend. He listened to me. He held my hand. He cared. He loved me. He became my very very best friend. One day I asked him if he went to church. He said he was a Mormon, but wasn't currently going to church. I told him I knew that I wanted to belong to a church, just wasn't sure which one. He took out the Book of Mormon, and read the Joseph Smith story to me. Hearing that story made me curious, and I wanted to know more. Two weeks later the Sister Missionaries were going from house to house and landed on our door step. Stuart and I took the discussions together. 
We got married that year, and then one week later I got baptized. That was twenty years ago. I remember when I was first baptized sitting in sacrament one day, and tears just came out of my eyes as I realized that all those times I thought I was alone, He was really there with me. Although I didn't grow up with a father in my home, I had a Father in Heaven that was always there and loved me and protected me. That He got me through those difficult times. Now, as I look at the last twenty years, my sweet husband, my amazing children, I thank God so much for giving his only Son......for Because He Lives.....we will all live again.
My son who can't walk right now will walk one day; he will be whole. 
My daughter who doesn't talk will one day run and jump and play and talk my ear off. 
