When I grew up I often caught myself asking God – “Why? Why was my life like this?” I felt so sad and extremely alone. I couldn't understand that a God could allow things so bad happen to a little girl like me. I just couldn't. What had I done to deserve such things. You could say that I hated God, for letting me endure it. I just couldn't understand.

The years went by and things didn't get better nor did they get worse. I was alive but in the same time I was as dead as the bodies buried on the graveyard. I think I was about 13, maybe a bit younger when I met a girl in my class who was a member in the Pentecostal church, she came from a very strict Christian family, and knew a whole lot about her faith. She was really nice and neat. I followed her to church, I like the people there and I felt that I might be on “the right track” of life. I continued to go with her, but I felt like there was something missing. I did not know what. But I got to know about God and a man called Jesus.

Life got better, I got support and I got my mother back after years of tragedy. Sure I had had her for all my life. But now she was with me in emotion to. We started to rebuild our relationship and soon we were as close as we ever was. Life was still hard and I realized that life always going to have its ups and downs. I had bad memories and there were days where I didn't even wanted to leave my bed. But life was better.

I used to think that I died when I was five. That my soul died when I was only five. The man, whom I called father hurt me the most and continued for 7 years before I had built up enough courage to say, “Stop, it's enough”. All the time I was screaming out to God asking him where he was and why he'd let this happen to me. I got my answer when I was 22.

I wouldn't have called me a Christian or anything of that sort. But I was a seeker, I wanted to know the truth. I wanted to know why we were here, on this earth. A ball in the middle of a black mass that no one knew where it ended. That's a kinda scary thing to think about. I prayed to a God I did not know. I didn't even know if there was anyone listening to my prayers, my desperate prayers. But somehow, I continued to pray. One day after a prayer I got to see this man. A vlogger speaking about his faith. He was a mormon. I thought it was very interesting. I wanted to know more, a lot more. I actually said out loud, “It would be cool to meet a mormon, here in Sweden.” To whom? I have no idea, I just said it. Little did I know that, that little outburst of a few words would change my life.

I was going to meet my mother, at that time I was living a few miles away so I had to take the train to see her. I was a bit early, so I decided to meet her up down town instead of at the station. As I walked around a corner I met them. I met the missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

“What does faith mean to you?” That was the first thing her asked me when they stopped me in the middle of the street. They stopped me, of all those people that was walking next to me, they stopped to speak to me. I said “to feel safe”. I had to go, so I gave them my address and my phone number and I left.

When I was walking from them, I felt a warmth, a security of some sort. Something had change I just didn't know what.

I met with them a few times. Then life came in between, with life I mean school. We lost contact or I lost contact with them. I started to feel empty again, happy but empty. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months.

June. The month of June came. I really don't know what made me do it. No idea. I just did. I decided to give it another chance. There was a little voice inside of me who told me I should do it. I now know it was our Heavenly Father. I decided to contact the missionaries again. I was scared and ashamed. For what? I ask myself now. But I was ashamed because I felt like I had let the missionaries down by not calling them back to reschedule. So since I was so ashamed I started to talk with two missionaries online. That led to a phone call a little over a week later from the missionaries that was in my town now.

I knew, of I must say I knew before that. I probably knew that time I sat down by the computer to write those missionaries. I knew it was true.

After a life of agony I felt content, happy and free. Okay, to say a life in agony might be a bit harsh. Of course I had my moments of happiness. But I didn't have a childhood. That's quite some agony right there. But I will always be grateful that I've had my mother, she's done her very best to take care for me and things haven't always been easy. But yes, that is how I felt when I got baptized into the church.

I got baptized because I know that the church is true, that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God and that I've chosen the right path in life.

The answer I got from out Heavenly Father is that I was given this life because I can now use my experiences and the pain I've endured to help others in need. I can understand, I can help and I know how it is to feel pain. That's why my life has been so hard, so that I can serve others. And that's what I will do. I will serve.

So I often ask myself, as a little reminder, - “ Olga, what does faith mean to you?” and I always answers - “ Safety, it means safety.”

And I say all of these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Tags: Faith Missionaries Testimony Love God Jesus Christ

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