My parents were what you would call 'converts', in the truest sense of the word. My mom was raised Methodist and my dad was raised Catholic. I grew up as a small child, never attending church or talking about God. We didn't even attend church on Easter or Christmas, to my knowledge. Praying at dinner consisted of the rote "God is great, God is good, thank you for this food, Amen". Despite the lack of religion in our home, to my understanding, my mom embraced my dad's faith when they married. They married in a Catholic church, my mom wore Chantilly lace on her head for baptisms and first communions for members of my dad's family. I have a Catholic baby book. My two older siblings and I (Ken & Angie) were christened as babies. I have godparents (my Auntie Viola and Uncle Jim). Despite all that, I was growing up, blissfully, without any religion clouding my upbringing.
Then some young missionaries knocked on our door in Spokane, Washington. Elders with the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, the Mormons. Mormons were not unfamiliar to my parents. Their good friends, the Skubals, were LDS. Jan & Gary Skubal were a staple in my young life, as were their 5 kids. Though they lived in the Bay Area, they had attended high school with my parents and were their best friends, visiting us often. These young men were probably 19 or 20 years old. My dad remembered their names until the day he passed. I, however, cannot recall them. I was only about 5 or 6. I have little memory of their visits to the house. As my mom would recount the story, she said my dad was resistant to the proselytizing young men, but she was open to it. She invited them in. I always envisioned the missionaries teaching my mom on her own in our house, but I know now that it wasn't allowed for young elders to teach a woman alone, so I'm not entirely sure how that all transpired. The story may have been embellished by my mother's desire to appear more humble and faithful. She has also since passed, so I may never know, though I would not dismiss the idea. Regardless, according to the story, my hesitant father eventually listened to the message the missionaries shared and was struck by the notion of eternal families, a concept he felt must always be true and one the church was big on. This was the selling point for him, if I had to choose one. He loved his family. Fiercely. He wanted to be with us forever. And here it was, being offered to him. They threw out the right bait. And he bit. And here we are.
I am not sure what year my parents were baptized, probably 1978 or 1979 (making me 5 or 6), and I don't want to get hung up on the minutia of the story. Those things don't matter. I do know that by July of 1980, I had my first Mormon journal. My very first entry states:
"I went to California June 28th, 1980. I went to the temple July 1, 1980 to get sealed.... My mom and dad got married in the temple. And the altar was there, too."
Because my parents joined the church as adults, their three children were not 'born in the covenant' and therefore, required a 'sealing' in order to be tied to them for eternity. So, after my parents joined the church, they likely had to wait the customary year before they could enter the temple to be sealed - to have their marriage solemnized by the priesthood authority the church claimed to have. We three children also had to be sealed to them in a separate ceremony, detailed later in my discussion on the temple. My parents chose the Oakland Temple in California for these ceremonies. Though we were living in Spokane at the time, my parents grew up in the Bay Area, and that was home to them.
Knowing my parents as I now do, looking back and seeing the lengths they went to so that they could have all the blessings this new religion promised them - it astounds me. We never had discretionary income, my parents lived paycheck to paycheck their entire lives. Family vacations were infrequent and very modest. Taking a trip to California to participate in a temple ceremony to check the proverbial boxes...this was extravagant. To me, it demonstrates the faith that my father had in this promise. This was what my dad wanted, more than anything.
Eternity with his family.
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