Tag Archives: Mormon

My mother

26 Sunday Aug 2012

Posted by in Just Marc

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Alma 56:47-48 …yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them. And they rehearsed unto me the words of their mothers, saying: We do not doubt our mothers knew it.

There is no doubt in my mind that I would not be who I am today if not for the love and faith of my dear mother. But I cannot begin to expound on the man without shedding light on the woman who raised him. In a nutshell, my mother, who was born in Mexico and raised in El Paso, Texas, was converted and baptized into the church as a teenager and soon after decided to serve a mission. She was assigned to Mexico and served faithfully for one and a half years. Thereafter, she met and married my father who was stationed at Fort Bliss and the rest is history.

For as long as I can remember, my mother diligently made sure we were all ready for church every Sunday, prepared family home evening lessons every Monday, gathered us all every night for a family prayer before bed, and so on. She truly was the glue that kept us actively engaged in the gospel of Jesus Christ. I will never forget the stories that she taught us from the Old Testament and also her experiences serving her mission. I knew at a very young age that I wanted to serve a mission, too. There was never a time that my mother did not inspire me. She seldom had free time, but I do remember that whatever free time she had, she spent reading the scriptures.

I also have memories of my family driving over the Rio Grande to Ciudad Juarez to see the sites, shop and just get away for a day. It is a very short drive out of my old neighborhood, down the border highway and across a bridge. It was a much different world back then. It boggles my mind that this Mexican City was dubbed the “Murder Capital of the World.” Interestingly enough, the crime and drug wars all began about the time I left El Paso to serve a mission in Germany for two years and thereafter make a home in Utah. I was sickened over the years to watch on the news of just how bad it really became there. And yet, despite all of this, a temple was built, dedicated and is in full use to this day. Many, if not most members in El Paso do not attend the temple there. Instead, they occasionally schedule bus trips to the next closest temple in Albuquerque, New Mexico for fear of their lives. Not my mom.

Despite the abhorrent crimes committed by drug lords and criminals, my mother has faithfully attended one ore two sessions per month since the temple opened. She told me that another member was driving home not too long ago from the temple and could hear bullets whizzing past his car. But why does my mother continue to go despite the mortal danger? She was promised that if she went straight to the temple and straight back home without deviating to tour, shop, etc, she would be unharmed. And so for the last decade she has carpooled with another sister who is a temple worker there. She tells me these stories and her trips like it’s not a big deal. This is the moral fiber of my mother. This is the woman who was my rock during my childhood. This is the unwavering faith of a daughter of God.

Pictured below: Teotihuacan, Christmas 1970, fifteen months old

I remember…

25 Saturday Aug 2012

Posted by in Heritage

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There was a time, back in the ’70s when the integration of Spanish speaking members with English speaking members created no small degree of discomfort. Even I, in my young age in the primary program could sense it, especially among the grown-ups. While I was oblivious to the tension it created in the various wards of my hometown of El Paso, Texas, it didn’t take too long for me to realize that I was suddenly different.

My home was no longer in the Spanish speaking ward boundary in which I had grown up and so I learned to adjust in a new ward where everyone was white. I realized at that point that speaking English wasn’t limited to just the kids. Even the adults and especially the elderly spoke perfect English, as I did. I found it odd at the time, though young and naive as I was, for previously, I had thought that English had somehow become a foreign language to adults, especially the elderly, since I never heard them speak English. I began to learn the differences between the two cultures rather quickly.

There was a combination of things that made me feel inadequate soon afterward. The members of my new ward wore finer clothes, drove nicer cars and lived in much nicer homes, some with swimming pools in their backyards. It didn’t take too long for me to feel “dark and loathesome.” I remember becoming resentful of my skin. I am grateful, though, that my parents raised my sisters and me with English as our primary language, although we were raised to speak both languages. I carried this sense of inferiority throughout my childhood and teenage years. It wasn’t until I served a mission in Munich, Germany that I came out of my shell and my self esteem began to grow, though once in a while, even today, I may feel the stigma of being brown.

I recently began reading old Ensign magazine articles and discovered one, which really touched me. It was written by the prophet, Spencer W. Kimball for his First Presidency message in the 1975 issue and directly addressed the Mexican people, the native American Indians, and the Polynesian people and is worth reading (http://www.lds.org/ensign/1975/12/our-paths-have-met-again?lang=eng).

I rejoice that it has been my privilege to carry the gospel to the Lamanites from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic, from the reaches of Canada to southern Chile, and in the islands from Hawaii to New Zealand. I have eaten with and visited with these my brethren and sisters and have been a guest in their homes.

I have met some who are a little bit ashamed that they are Lamanites. How can it be? Some would rather define themselves as Nephites, or Zoramites, or Josephites, or something else. Surely there must be a misunderstanding. Would they separate themselves from the great blessings the Lord has promised to his covenant people? Would they cast off their birthright? For the Lord himself has chosen to call these people Lamanites—all the mixed descendants of Father Lehi, and Ishmael, and Zoram, and Mulek, and others of the Book of Mormon record; all of the literal seed of the Lamanites, “and also all that had become Lamanites because of their dissensions.

It has been almost forty years since President Kimball’s words were published and truly the Lamanites have begun to blossom as the rose. I have spent all these years intensely studying the Old and New Testaments, The Book of Mormon and other scriptures. The Lamanites have a remarkable legacy that spans generations, even dispensations, of which is prophecied in the very first book of the Old Testament:

Genesis 49:22 Joseph is a fruitful bough by a well; whose branches run over the wall…