As I recount my visions so eloquently as to describe them as more than nightmares, I do so earnestly.
The Book of Mormon, though real, has been in my life. Stories of Ammon and Alma the prophet, Zarehemla, the place, and Abundancia. Literal Z to As.
In my studies as a beginning missionary, I had already encountered Ether and his predecessors. All prophets of a time fore told. But here I am, a young folly-full youth in his early almosts decade of 20s.
I was crying in my heart to a God who understood English, not spanish, but my fore fathers knew I was destined to speak many, German being my principal now.
I sat at the desk crying, knowing my need for repentance from my pride over Languages. And I read Ether 3. Never that now I can remember had a scripture reached through it's pages to rip me out of my vanity in front of all who fittingly would call me their friends, and one who still would be my companion, even though I said Jehovah, like Jehova, weird.
I knew that if Mahonri Moriancumer could do it, I surely could. And it got me through that first 3 days, in a mission I had reluctantly accepted to a people I would at first, be reluctant to find and teach, regardless of Elder McLaws pleadings.
Thanks be to God for thos 16 stones that turned to light with the touch of the Master Toucher's hands. A Gad among the rest.
Light and life. From Jesus, to the Christ.
