by Firy

Created on: October 13, 2008   Last Updated: February 23, 2012

Fear of Letting Go

I had walked the dusty streets and torn cement pavements of my village and of the capital. I had rummaged every hospital corner and was discouraged by every friend, patient and doctor, but held fast onto my belief. "It is true. It is true. I know it is true. Christ is the Savior. Heavenly Father is God and His Father. The gospel has been restored and Joseph Smith is the instrument of that restoration. I bear witness to you that these things are true...."

Between my children, mother, father, a few friends, and work, all the time was for me to proclaim the restored gospel. Never had I in life felt so close to God and the Savior. I felt I knew them personally. I felt they lived next door to me. There was such a great abundance in imagining about mankind and the entire creation as God's work. And what greater virtue could a woman as I am have other than giving of her self and talents to glorify God?

Having grown up in a religious family, it was not too much of a leap for me to be part of the LDS Church.

The church in Maseru was located Southwest of the Lakeside Dam. Less than a handful of the church members owned vehicles. Most people came to church by taxi or on foot. Meeting with members on church every Sunday was food for the soul. I met with others who, like me, had traveled long distances. Some of us carried high heel shoes and walked either barefooted or in walking shoes to change into stilettos upon approaching the church gates. Women pulled out handkerchiefs to dust of their legs, feet, and ankles laden with red soil in preparation for the service.

We would all happily go to the different meetings bubbling with excitement about the gospel. How else can you describe joy without losing the very meaning you are trying to convey? Such is how I felt. We lived in poverty and knew what a priceless gift it was to have. My parents were not as happy as I was about the new church. My father was upset because the missionary who came to visit his home said, "The LDS Church was not like the Catholic church where the clergy is salaried!" God himself could only curb the fumes that escaped this conversation. Myself being only so benign, I fled the scene. My mother, on the other hand, said she did not understand why I needed church when I am already a good person. She said about herself, "I am a good person. You are a good person. You want to visit church it's fine. But why make it a law?"

All of these talks were only scratching the surface. Somehow my

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