Continuation:
Well, I left off just as I was living in Salt Lake City. This is where I was
baptized in April of 2001. I don't remember much about it, it was just something
that happened to me. I don't know who did it, just that it was part of the Stake
baptisms that month. It is said that your baptism is supposed to be the most
exciting thing in life, the moment when you are cleansed from your sins and can
have the companionship of the Holy Spirit, but I must have missed it at that
point in my life. I don't know if it was because I was such a sweet and innocent
little child, or I just didn't know what I was looking for when receiving this
gift of God.
I think that is where I would like to draw a point for later in life. Where is it that you first start feeling the promptings of the Holy Ghost? Does it one day just walk up and say hello? How do you begin to recognize a difference between life before the Spirit and when you actually have it? (These questions are quite open to the public. I'd love to know others' opinions.) It is something that is different for everybody, but always involves the same emotional feelings, so that we know He is there.
As a child when you get baptized, you never really see the difference because He never leaves your side. You are innocent and then you receive this Gift that has been with you all the life you have known, because children are God's most precious creations. They are perfect in His eyes and never allows them to walk blindly without the Spirit's protection. That is a beautiful thing if you look at it from the view point of a parent. Granted, I am not a parent, I can only imagine based on what I have been told or heard from those parents I've witnessed in my life. We are always those little children in our parent's eyes. We are always the ones that they will do anything for, and protect them from all harm or danger, but they can't be there at all times to lead us, guide us and walk hand in hand as we walk the paths in life. They will offer assistance anytime we ask them for help if they know we will be grateful and use it for the bettering of our lives, and that is exactly how God is for us.
He has given so much to us and has blessed us with the ability to "call" Him up and ask Him for what will benefit our lives and strengthen our love for one another. And the Spirit is His way of "calling" us up to let us know that He is thinking about us. Though we have the same luxury as what we do with our parent's here in mortality, we can screen these "calls" and sooner or later they stop calling, but still eagerly await us to call them... I may be going off on a tangent, so let's get back to life.
Salt Lake... Well, Salt Lake was just a few short years then we made our way back to the pleasantly run down town of Oxnard. Oxnard, though it is where I am from, has lost it's luster within my eyes as gangs and hoodlums have gone gallivanting around it with spray paint and drugs and guns. Nonetheless, we always return to it... This is in the middle of fourth grade, so I switched from Escalante to Lemonwood Elementary.
Lemonwood wasn't too bad of a school, aside from the shootings, and the fact that I was the only white kid in the school, aside from my cousin (the one that was a bane to my existence.) So there was some animosity that was honed in on, coincidentally, my general area. I don't know what it was, and I was tired of this coincidence biting me in the rear. Therefore I got weary at this school faster than normally. Plus the constant contentions that ensued at home each day, there was just no rest for the soul in these places, which gave me a lot of perspective for the later part of my life. I learned very sincerely that I do not like confrontation in my life because I have seen how it chases happiness out of one's home.
Well, this Oxnard was as short lived as the others. I was there for part of the fourth grade and almost all of fifth. I tested out early so that we could move to Provo, Utah. I didn't move directly there, I spent a month living with my dad in Chino, California with my sister as my mom and brother prepared our new place. My brother and father have never really been close, to say the least. I don't really know what it is, but sometimes there were things said on one side that emotionally affected the other side of the relationship. So, they have never really been communicable one to another. So there was a strain in a "typical" family life.
I guess in comparison to a "typical" family we lack a few basic components. First, we lack a father. In my humble opinion, and much in spite of my dad's feelings, he was never around for our growing up. He was more or less an acquaintance that we were obligated to visit from time to time. Luckily I had a mother that knew how to fill the shoes of the fathering role. She may feel at times that we were ungrateful for all that she did for us, but I was and still am grateful for all the things she has done for me. I know that I have let down many people in my life, none greater than my mother for all that she has given me, and supported me through.
Second on this list would be respect for one another. We grew up with our single mother who worked and tried her very best for us, and I think that if we abide to each of the principles that she has taught us we would have turned out normal. We all used the excuses presented to us by our "hardships" even though we really didn't have any. We lacked a father, and so we grew independent whilst mom was away at work or whatnot. Our independence made each of us feel more justified or right in certain aspects of life, that is where contentions arose. We fought because we all had our opinions, whether they be right or not, we would argue the point to the bare bones. That certainly runs within our family.
The last point on the list would be that we were all different. Each of us "specialized" in areas of intellectualism and with those we carried long debates over pointless things. None extremely superior to the others but definitely noticeably more skilled with it. My sister has a knack for sciences and math, but also likes languages. My brother loves books and all that those entail as well as history. I like the social aspects of life, going out and just talking with the whole world, and history with a love of language and culture. When reading over those topics it sounds like I have a larger forté which is not true, I just like talking about me more, that will become apparent if it hasn't already.
Now, we are in Provo, the place I feel is more of a home than anywhere else. This is where I truly started life, or at least the parts of life that have refined me to what I am today. This is where I will end my story this time, and I will continue it in another post.
I think that is where I would like to draw a point for later in life. Where is it that you first start feeling the promptings of the Holy Ghost? Does it one day just walk up and say hello? How do you begin to recognize a difference between life before the Spirit and when you actually have it? (These questions are quite open to the public. I'd love to know others' opinions.) It is something that is different for everybody, but always involves the same emotional feelings, so that we know He is there.
As a child when you get baptized, you never really see the difference because He never leaves your side. You are innocent and then you receive this Gift that has been with you all the life you have known, because children are God's most precious creations. They are perfect in His eyes and never allows them to walk blindly without the Spirit's protection. That is a beautiful thing if you look at it from the view point of a parent. Granted, I am not a parent, I can only imagine based on what I have been told or heard from those parents I've witnessed in my life. We are always those little children in our parent's eyes. We are always the ones that they will do anything for, and protect them from all harm or danger, but they can't be there at all times to lead us, guide us and walk hand in hand as we walk the paths in life. They will offer assistance anytime we ask them for help if they know we will be grateful and use it for the bettering of our lives, and that is exactly how God is for us.
He has given so much to us and has blessed us with the ability to "call" Him up and ask Him for what will benefit our lives and strengthen our love for one another. And the Spirit is His way of "calling" us up to let us know that He is thinking about us. Though we have the same luxury as what we do with our parent's here in mortality, we can screen these "calls" and sooner or later they stop calling, but still eagerly await us to call them... I may be going off on a tangent, so let's get back to life.
Salt Lake... Well, Salt Lake was just a few short years then we made our way back to the pleasantly run down town of Oxnard. Oxnard, though it is where I am from, has lost it's luster within my eyes as gangs and hoodlums have gone gallivanting around it with spray paint and drugs and guns. Nonetheless, we always return to it... This is in the middle of fourth grade, so I switched from Escalante to Lemonwood Elementary.
Lemonwood wasn't too bad of a school, aside from the shootings, and the fact that I was the only white kid in the school, aside from my cousin (the one that was a bane to my existence.) So there was some animosity that was honed in on, coincidentally, my general area. I don't know what it was, and I was tired of this coincidence biting me in the rear. Therefore I got weary at this school faster than normally. Plus the constant contentions that ensued at home each day, there was just no rest for the soul in these places, which gave me a lot of perspective for the later part of my life. I learned very sincerely that I do not like confrontation in my life because I have seen how it chases happiness out of one's home.
Well, this Oxnard was as short lived as the others. I was there for part of the fourth grade and almost all of fifth. I tested out early so that we could move to Provo, Utah. I didn't move directly there, I spent a month living with my dad in Chino, California with my sister as my mom and brother prepared our new place. My brother and father have never really been close, to say the least. I don't really know what it is, but sometimes there were things said on one side that emotionally affected the other side of the relationship. So, they have never really been communicable one to another. So there was a strain in a "typical" family life.
I guess in comparison to a "typical" family we lack a few basic components. First, we lack a father. In my humble opinion, and much in spite of my dad's feelings, he was never around for our growing up. He was more or less an acquaintance that we were obligated to visit from time to time. Luckily I had a mother that knew how to fill the shoes of the fathering role. She may feel at times that we were ungrateful for all that she did for us, but I was and still am grateful for all the things she has done for me. I know that I have let down many people in my life, none greater than my mother for all that she has given me, and supported me through.
Second on this list would be respect for one another. We grew up with our single mother who worked and tried her very best for us, and I think that if we abide to each of the principles that she has taught us we would have turned out normal. We all used the excuses presented to us by our "hardships" even though we really didn't have any. We lacked a father, and so we grew independent whilst mom was away at work or whatnot. Our independence made each of us feel more justified or right in certain aspects of life, that is where contentions arose. We fought because we all had our opinions, whether they be right or not, we would argue the point to the bare bones. That certainly runs within our family.
The last point on the list would be that we were all different. Each of us "specialized" in areas of intellectualism and with those we carried long debates over pointless things. None extremely superior to the others but definitely noticeably more skilled with it. My sister has a knack for sciences and math, but also likes languages. My brother loves books and all that those entail as well as history. I like the social aspects of life, going out and just talking with the whole world, and history with a love of language and culture. When reading over those topics it sounds like I have a larger forté which is not true, I just like talking about me more, that will become apparent if it hasn't already.
Now, we are in Provo, the place I feel is more of a home than anywhere else. This is where I truly started life, or at least the parts of life that have refined me to what I am today. This is where I will end my story this time, and I will continue it in another post.
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