Thank you Hubby and Jackie T. :0

I have been very blessed to have the gospel in my life. I still remember when I first got introduced: 0 I remember being in my friend Jackie’s car and she had her scriptures and it sparked my curiosity but I did not ask much about it. Until, I started to date Brandon :) Growing up I attended school with a lot of LDS member many of them were my friends but I never once went to church with them. Then Jackie who is the nicest person I have ever met!!!! Really made an impact in my life, I saw how happy she was and never once did I ever hear her speak ill of anyone. That really showed me what type of person she was because I believe that the way you speak about others says allot about you. I could not help but to feel a sense of spirituality when I was around her and euphoria. I went through a devastating year with my grandpa passing away and Brandon and Jackie were there for me 100%. After my grandpa died I felt like I had lost my best friend. I prayed so many nights for that feeling to go away only to discover that I had gained two best friends.

Then I started to take the lessons and every night I went home it felt so un real because I had never felt that way before. The Thomas's were so inviting and I am very thankful for them allowing me to take the discussions at their home.

If I could go through every heart ache and cry again all those night I would do it in a heartbeat knowing that I would have the gospel in my life.

Now two years later, I still am very happy and I cry when I think about my hubby and Brandon but they are not tears of sadness but tears of joy.

I do have to admit when I converted I had to defend my self happiness. Especially to my mom, this made me very sad because when I converted it caused some tension between my mom and I. It took my mom a while before she could see the difference the gospel had made in my life. My mom realized the change when I started to take my sister to church and she was very happy. My sister would come home and share the stories we discussed in relief society.

This made my heart so happy because my sister had gone through a lot and my sister looked forward to Sunday's because she would be attending with me. My friend Jackie gave her two book marks one had the footprints poem and the other was sisterhood of the relief society. To this day she has them up in her room and when someone asks were she got them she shares my testimony with them.

This makes me very happy in deed but I am sad because I have been doing a lot of thinking and I wish my sister had her own testimony. I hope that my sister can be as blessed as I am and have the gospel in my life.

I think about my eternal life and I wish my parents and sister would part take of it. I have been praying a lot and I would love to invite my mom to church.... but I am not sure if she would go. I want to prove to her that all the things that people have told her are not true. I have invited her to Easter Pageant hoping that it will spark her interest in the church. I know she has her own beliefs but I would never try to impose anything on her that she would not like. Yet, I feel that it is something that she needs in her life right now more than ever. Yet, I have faith that one of these days my mom will attend church with me.

It amazes me......get your kleenex tissues ready

I am so blessed to have a job in this economy along with having a job where I get to make a difference. Out of the 2 1/2 years that I have worked at UOP. As an enrollment counselor I have had the opportunity to meet some great students along the way. It is such a great reward to shed a glimpse of light on my students. I have come accross so many students who have inspired me to exceed in my job and give my 200% into work! I have heard so many inspirational stories of why students want to pursue their degrees. Out of all the students Larry Prudhomme has made and will always leave an impression in life. I thought I would share his story with you! When he emailed me the story he simply said " I want to thank you and share my story so that you may have a better understanding of what this degree will do for me."

I'm not sure when I first learned to hate; to blame white people for all of my race's misfortunes. At this point in my life, it seemed natural and to always have been a part of me, like breathing. This attitude was not taught in my large, comfortable Las Vegas home where I lived with my mom, stepdad, brother & sister. It was an acquired hatred, gained, I believed, by my own personal experiences and observations. Maybe it began when, at age 14, I was first allowed to drive the family car and visited the “other side of the tracks.” Here I saw black families less fortunate than mine, living in unimaginable conditions. How could this be? Whose fault was it, if not white people who had been oppressing my race since slavery days?
Years later, during a search for a personal and cultural identity, I visited a Black Panther's recruitment rally. Here I discovered a whole new list of reasons to be outraged against the white oppressors. Martin Luther King had been killed trying to help his people, my people. There were a disproportionate number of black men living in poverty, or in jails. No famous black men were featured on U.S. Currency alongside our country's all-white founding fathers. Angel food cake was white, but Devil's food cake was black. Even the word “History” was offensive. Broken down, it spelled “His Story”, the story of the white man. And Jesus, the central figure of the most prominent world religion was depicted as being white in images of the Crucifixion and the Last Supper. I was told to be angry and so I was.
This hatred sapped any interest I might have had in getting a white-man's education. Practically illiterate, I dropped out of school as soon as I possibly could, and this, too, was the white man's fault. Christianity? This was the white man's religion and I wanted no part of it. My religion was one of hate.
Soon, with the help of my “friends”, I was heavily involved in gangs, drugs and crime. What other choice did I have? I soon found my specialty: robbing homes, and I was good at it. I felt a certain amount of pride in my skills and that, by breaking into their homes and stealing from them, I was getting back at the white people who were the root of all my troubles. But as good as I was, I still sometimes got caught. I served several prison terms, but always came back to what I knew best.
On this particular day, a typical sweltering Las Vegas summer day, I was prowling an affluent white neighborhood looking for a house to break into. I was exhausted, delusional and ravenously hungry from six days with no sleep from smoking cocaine. If I chose the right house, I could steal enough valuables to buy another supply and it would be alright. After what seemed like miles of walking around, casing houses, I finally saw one that looked promising.
This was it; it had to be. There was a six foot high hedge surrounding the entire yard, which would make it easier for me to enter the house undetected, and a front door with the top half made of small sections of glass in a diamond shape. With renewed energy, I climbed the porch, pressed the door bell and waited. No one answered. I rang it several more times to be sure noone was home, then took my shoe off and knocked in the glass diamond panes directly above the door knob. After that it was easy to reach in, turn the dead bolt and let myself in.
As I entered the house, I saw the sun reflect off a magnificent setting of silver, and was overwhelmed by a feeling of great joy and wonder. It felt almost spiritual. Exploring further, I found three bedrooms, each with a jewelry box overflowing with jewelry. Each room also had a large water bottle filled with coins, and there was a coin collection on one wall filled with old twenty dollar gold pieces. The master bedroom had a gun rack with more guns than I had ever seen in one place. There were also VCR's, stereos, a DVD player and a few cameras. As burglaries go, this was a gold mine; the jackpot.
Suddenly I realized I was spending too much time marveling over what I had stumbled upon and started gathering luggage to carry my booty away. I spent at least an hour loading four suitcases, and stuffed my two front pockets with coins and jewelry just in case I had to make a quick getaway. I found a shopping cart full of leaves in the back yard and quickly emptying it, rolled it in through the patio doors and into the living room. Here I loaded all the suitcases in the cart and covered them with a blanket. Breathing hard, soaked with sweat, I looked around the room. That was when I noticed what appeared to be a liquor cabinet containing several kinds of wine. Telling myself I should take a moment to catch my breath, I opened the living room drapes, poured myself a drink, and relaxed in a recliner in front of the window. Maybe I would rest my eyes, just for a few moments...
When I awoke, the morning sun was just where I left in when I first sat down, but something was different. As I rose to stand, a blanket fell off my lap. I glanced nervously around, but the shopping cart was no longer in the room. A rising sense of panic rose in my chest. What was going on? Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something else that hadn't been there before. On the end table, right next to the chair I had fallen asleep in was a platter. On it were sandwiches, chips, Koolaid, $30 cash, and a picture of a family. The accompanying note read “Sir, when you leave, please lock the door. God loves you and so do we.” This was no cocaine psychosis. This family actually came home and found what had to look like a wild man smelling like a goat, asleep in their home, his motive unmistakable. Obviously, the father had guns to protect his family and property. He did not shoot me, or even call the police.
Well, I'm sorry to say, I didn't lock the door when I bolted out the back door, hopping fences til I was well out of the neighborhood. But this sense of underserved compassion, from a white family no less, had left an indelible impression on me.
I didn't rob any more homes after that, but was caught and convicted for a previous robbery. Back to prison for the fifth time, and this stretch would be a long one: at least 10 years. I felt drained and hopeless. I barely had the will to live, much less to keep on hating. I went through some hard and lonely times, including a year in solitary confinement. But along the way, just when I needed it most, people came into my life to help and encourage me. And guess what? Many of these people were white.

Happy Birthday too me :)

I am a quarter of a century old :) 25 very close to 30 LOL I can honestly say I still feel like a child in the inside full of life with an innocent outlook on life and people. Getting older next to my husband makes me happier then anything in the world. For my birthday he wrote me the nicest email and I thought I would share it with the rest of you so you can see the sentimental side of him :)

Hi Baby, I am writing this a little early, I just wanted to tell you how much I love you;) The past few years have been so amazing. I never knew how much my life was missing before I met you. You complete me=) Every year is a celebration for me because it's another year I get to spend with my sweetheart;) What can I say except I love you I love you I love you;) Happy birthday baby;) I hope to enjoy many many more years by your side. I am so glad I get to grow old with you;)