At forty-five, I was completely alone in the world. My husband passed away ten years before and I was never blessed with the opportunity to experience motherhood, which was good and bad–bad because I really loved children, and good because Greg Green would not have been a good father. He wasn’t even a good husband, and there were several illegitimate children floating around Charlotte, North Carolina to prove it, the youngest being twelve years old. Since his loins were obviously fruitful, he never failed to let me know our childless situation was my fault.
Death, not divorce, had been the separator. But I wasn’t left without means, and I was given two great blessings of comfort. Greg had been the foreman for a major construction company and I received a substantial insurance settlement, which doubled since he died on the job. Then seven months later, I was introduced to the gospel of Jesus Christ by a co-worker at the care center I worked at. The former blessing gave me financial freedom, but the latter completely changed my life, giving me a freedom of spirit I never felt before.
I had no siblings, and since my parents were older when they had me, they were both gone now, having died in their eighties two years before. My parents were the youngest of their siblings. They were all gone as well and I’d never been close to the few cousins I had. They were scattered across the globe anyway.
Having no one to answer to, I was starting to feel restless. I needed to do something. I had hobbies–a library full of books that I’d read twice, some three times, a craft room with a closet lined with shelves of quilts that I had tied and regularly gave to expectant mothers in the ward for their new babies. I attended the temple regularly and worked on my family history twice a week. And I occasionally visited sisters in the ward who were struggling and did what I could to help. Despite all of this, I was restless and needed to do something more. I needed a change.
As soon as the storm hit Fiji and the damage reports began to broadcast, my heart had gone out to the people there and I instantly felt the need to go and serve them in some way. After fasting and praying, I knew what I needed to do.
Death, not divorce, had been the separator. But I wasn’t left without means, and I was given two great blessings of comfort. Greg had been the foreman for a major construction company and I received a substantial insurance settlement, which doubled since he died on the job. Then seven months later, I was introduced to the gospel of Jesus Christ by a co-worker at the care center I worked at. The former blessing gave me financial freedom, but the latter completely changed my life, giving me a freedom of spirit I never felt before.
I had no siblings, and since my parents were older when they had me, they were both gone now, having died in their eighties two years before. My parents were the youngest of their siblings. They were all gone as well and I’d never been close to the few cousins I had. They were scattered across the globe anyway.
Having no one to answer to, I was starting to feel restless. I needed to do something. I had hobbies–a library full of books that I’d read twice, some three times, a craft room with a closet lined with shelves of quilts that I had tied and regularly gave to expectant mothers in the ward for their new babies. I attended the temple regularly and worked on my family history twice a week. And I occasionally visited sisters in the ward who were struggling and did what I could to help. Despite all of this, I was restless and needed to do something more. I needed a change.
As soon as the storm hit Fiji and the damage reports began to broadcast, my heart had gone out to the people there and I instantly felt the need to go and serve them in some way. After fasting and praying, I knew what I needed to do.