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This October will mark our 19th wedding anniversary. We were married in a Catholic Church and it was a day that we will never forget, I can still remember it as if it was yesterday. We attended Church fairly regularly, more fairly than regularly. We were not what you would call active members of the Church and quite often my husband would bring the subject up about getting more involved in the Church. But that was about as far as it got. Our son arrived five years later and he was an excellent child during Mass, never fussed compared to some of the other screamers in the Church. Eventually we were bringing him to Sunday school but that didn't last long. He hated it and would prefer being with us during Mass. Finally we just gave up and never went back to Church because we couldn't get him to stay in the Sunday school. Once he escaped out of the building and nearly went into the street.
One day as we were cleaning the house my husband bought up the subject about getting back to Church. He didn't care what Church we became members of, he just wanted our son to get into a Church and not become what he classified as "A Heathen". He said that Daniel should have a strong Church upbringing. I knew what he was saying was true and I told him that I really was looking for a particular Church. I wanted one that was highly active, that had activities for both adults and children. I wanted a Church that offered Sunday school for both adults and children, I wanted something that was more than just an hour on Sunday. I wanted a family orientated Church, the average age of the people at our other Church was around 80 years old. I had nothing against the members but there was nothing geared to people my own age or even younger. I was too young to sit around praying and reciting with Rosary beads.
Within 3 days I had received a knock on my door. We were getting ready to take in an exchange student for a month and so we were really cleaning the house. I looked an absolute mess and was exhausted and I imagine as I opened the door, I was a sight to the two young missionaries who were knocking on our door. They introduced themselves and had the book of Mormon in their hands. And smiles on their faces. Something inside of me told them that I would like to see them the next week as my house was in turmoil and it would be difficult to speak with them then. I almost wanted to pick their jaws up from off the ground because they were in shock that someone actually wanted to see them again. But a feeling deep inside of me was telling me that this was an opportunity not to be missed.
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