The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ

Today I finished the Book of Mormon. I cried through the entire last chapter. It's not the only time I cried. So many emotions. I cried for the people. The degrees of wickedness are not mine to judge, but regardless, the suffering and torture they endured and pain and agony they inflicted upon each other was hard to read about. Hard to imagine. For Mormon and for Moroni it must have been heartbreaking. Heartbreaking and lonely. I cried for them. I wonder if Moroni cried as he reread the epistles his father sent to him. I wonder if he included them because he missed his father so much. If in sharing them he felt somewhat closer, and a little less alone. I know that a great prophet like him knew that God was with him. That Christ was strengthening him and lifting him up. But as I have lived through my own trials I know that this knowledge does not make you exempt from these feelings or the trials of life. I cried because I didn't want it to end. There were so many moments that I would try to imagine what it would be like. The details of any one persons life were not given. But these people lived. They had lives. They had daily experiences. Daily hardships. Daily goals. Just like me. There were many widows throughout. I often wondered what she longed for. A loaf of bread? Like the one that sits on my counter? That may have been all that she prayed for that day. A blanket or clothing for her child? The clothes in my closet could clothe her entire family, cousins, aunts and uncles included. The blankets in my closet could again, protect more than one family from the elements. There is so much that I have. Is it retarded that I wish that I could share what I have with people who have been dead for centuries? SIGH. And yet I can. I can share with those in need now. As I prayed afterward I DID ask. I asked if the book was true. I felt silly, because I knew that it was and knew that I didn't need to ask to know of it's truthfulness. But I am glad that I did. I did get an even greater confirmation. Nothing huge. But thoughts that came to my mind. I wished that I could thank Moroni and Mormon, and all these great prophets in person. I imagined myself embracing each of them in gratitude for the sacrifices they made so that I could have this book. So that I could read of the teachings of Christ. So that I could be uplifted by their strength, by their love, by their examples. Again, I cried. I thought of a journal entry after a session with Pam when she shared with me that Brian was doing a great work. "October 5, 2009. Brian was here today. He was here along with native american ancestors who are concerned about their family. They are working together. Part of the work Brian has to do on the otherside is with them, especially now in allowing this family to heal." I immediately remembered a fifth Sunday adult meeting in 6th Ward when the topic of couples serving missions was taught. As I sat next to him that day I laughed as he commented about the mission we would to serve together one day. Without hesitating and in a teasing voice (but I was mostly serious at the time) I replied that we are not serving a couples mission. I told him that there is no way that the two of us would survive spending 24 hours a day seven days a week together and that we'd end up divorced if we weren't by then anyway. I told him that I was fine to forgo my dream of serving a mission in order to save our marriage. Then end. (With a chuckle). There aren't many moments that he didn't have a response and that was one of them. The look on his face made me feel bad about being so blunt. I cried remembering this, knowing that what I said was true. We would never have the opportunity to serve a couples mission together. I cried in regret, for him and I. These thoughts filled my mind in moments, as I prayed, and I was filled with love and compassion for him. For the great work that he is doing for me AND my family right now. And just as quickly came the thought that we can. We can serve that mission. That as he works on the other side of the veil to bring my ancestors to the gospel, that I can serve with him. We can serve together in a very nontraditional couples mission with a the very same purpose. This thought led back to those I had of the widow, or the child or any mother or sister in the Book of Mormon. I can share. I can share more than a loaf of bread. I can share more than a blanket. I can share more than clothing. I can share something even more dear, and even more important. I can share this gospel. I can share my testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and the prophets who wrote it. I can share my testimony of Joseph Smith who translated it and restored the Gospel of Christ on this earth in our latter days. I can share the existence of a Father who lives and loves me. I can share of the tender mercies he continually pours down upon me and my children. I can share the love that I have for His son, Jesus Christ. My brother. My saviour. My friend. My supporter, my advocate, my ally, my redeemer, my defender, my protector, and my comforter. I can share....