My Own Place

It all started one summer night when I was talking with my best friend, Terry.

Terry was a little older, so he would be going on his mission sooner than I. He was talking about his mission, when it suddenly dawned on me, Hey, that’s going to be my situation real quick.

I had always been active in the Church. I’d always toed the line and been very obedient. But still the thought hit me like a thunderbolt: You think you’re so good, but where are you with your testimony?

What was I going to do? I realized I needed to read the Book of Mormon. But I was the type that liked to have it quiet, and I was the oldest of six children. We were pretty rowdy in a small house and a small yard. There was no secluded grove in our neighborhood. My first consideration was to find a spot where I could get away by myself.

A few years before, my dad had bought a used limousine because we had a big family and it had an extra row of seats. The car had been out of commission for a while and was parked in back of our house under our old basketball standard. Inside that car was the only place I could think of to go where I could have some quiet and solitude while I read the Book of Mormon uninterrupted.

I don’t remember exactly what part I was reading when this good feeling came over me. I was overcome with emotion, with tears running down my cheeks. This was unusual for me. I couldn’t imagine crying over something I read in a book. I felt this overwhelming peace and reassurance, knowing that I was receiving communication from Heavenly Father. I had no doubts. I knew that the Book of Mormon was the word of God. And I knew I was ready to go on my mission.