the one about why I served

Here is just a short little clip for all my wonderful youth at EFY who asked me why I chose to serve a full-time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My number one reason is because I truly felt like it was a divine calling from Heavenly Father. I hadn't always felt like this but it worked up to it. I never ever wanted to serve but with a few personal events and the age change I knew I was suppose to. I prayed but hated the idea of it although I felt the prompting to do it. For months I "wrestled with God" to change my desires and to help me want to serve so that I could follow His will. And you know what? It worked! It was a long and hard process but by the end of it there was nothing that I wanted more than to serve Him. Revelation given to me in my Patriarchal Blessing also helped as it had revealed earlier that I was "expected" to serve. I knew that the Lord wanted me there. I'm so thankful He did. I know I was changed and I am a much better person because of the relationships and experiences I had in Florida. I am so thankful for a perfect Heavenly Father who knows exactly what I need. I know He knows you as well and honestly I would give this advice to everyone,  both girls and boys; prepare for a mission. Boys you are already called for this great work and like me, you are "expected" to serve. Girls prepare as if you were called and then take the time to listen to His voice He will tell you if it is the right thing for you, if it's not don't be sad or embarrassed. He has a great work for each of us in His own way. The blessings belong to all of us who are faithful and who are diligent.
Here is a post all about my experiences and decisions leading up to the mission before I left if you're looking for more! Love you all!
the one all about my mission

A Crater of the Mind

I stared down at the cement, focusing on the crunching of the fallen leaves in my path. Though it was January, it was another sunny day in Florida; it’s called the sunshine state for a good reason. Yet, there had been everything but sunshine in my soul that week . . . or had it been a month?

            “How are you doing today, Sister?” Sister Kreiberg’s blue eyes were completely focused on me. I turned away to hide my own blue eyes as they began to fill with tears. I blinked to clear my vision and nuzzled my chin into my pea coat. How can it be so sunny and bright, yet so chilly? I thought to myself, Florida isn’t supposed to get chilly.

            “I think it’s pretty much the same as it has been,” I answered honestly. I kept walking but didn’t seem to have an end in mind. Where were we going again? I glanced up, and in that second a vibrant blue house stood amongst a long line of cookie-cutter homes. Normally, this would have brightened my morning, but colors seemed to have drained from my world. I kept placing one foot in front of the other although it was more painful each time.

I felt a gentle touch that brought me back to reality and reminded me that at least I wasn’t physically alone. As I peeked at her hand resting on my arm, I realized that she was right beside me where she had always been, even those moments I didn’t always feel her. She removed her hand and pulled her soft blonde hair into a bun. Only a few weeks before, I had simply known her as the beautiful foreign sister; now she was my companion. She was more than just a companion though, so much more. She was my healer, my comforter, my realist, my confidant, and one of my closest and dearest friends.

            “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”  I knew I wasn’t putting her in the most comfortable situation, but still I tried to show her my gratitude with my eyes. I couldn’t portray any sincere emotion with my face.

Sister Kreiberg stopped and turned as to show me we had arrived at our destination. I followed and prepared myself. You’re doing what you love. Put on a smile, even if you don’t want to right now. He needs to see the joy the gospel brings.

            I knew the Gospel brought me so much happiness. It was one of the very reasons I had decided to serve. Now as one of the leaders in the mission and much more than half way through, I couldn’t understand why I suddenly didn’t feel it. Why I couldn't feel anything. My favorite things in life include smiling, laughing, and missionary work, which were why I loved my mission so much! Which was why I was a good missionary. I was a happy person! What was wrong with me? Who was I now?

            “Our Heavenly Father loves each of us so much. He created this Plan in order for us to grow and learn through the joys and difficulties of mortality” I felt as though my companion was talking more to me than to our new friend whom we were teaching. It was now my turn to testify.

            “I know that this is true. I know that God created this Plan of Happiness for us each to progress, to become like Him, and eventually to return to live with Him. We can promise you, as you listen and act upon this message we share, more joy will come to you than you’ve ever experienced before.” I had meant what I said, and I even put a smile on to try to convince him my statement was true. Following our lesson, we began our journey back to the car, and I couldn’t help but feel hypocritical. I had testified of obtaining pure joy. Yet, that may have been the first time I had smiled since the last lesson we had taught.

            Week after week my world was emotionless and cold. My life suddenly felt like one of those old television shows. Instead of the joyous moments that were shown by a cheerful and bright filter, my life had become the grey filter used to stress the sad and dreary parts. How long would this last? I stared at myself in the rearview mirror, pleading with my reflection, Please, just try to smile . . . even for a moment.  I forced my muscles to draw upward. It was amazing, no one could tell the difference, which says something about my acting I suppose. They were all completely unaware that I felt totally alone.  Mentally, I had fallen into the deepest of holes, and all around me there was only darkness. There seemed to be no escape. I only confided in my companion, my Mission President, and Father in Heaven.

            “President Berry, I’m trying to learn from this trial. How can I overcome something that seems to completely wear on my soul? Everything seems so dark. I can’t describe it any other way. I’m trying to fight all the negativity that enters my mind but the doubts are so strong and controlling. Destructive whispers are so convincing that there are no longer those that love me. I know this is not true. I know that I’m loved by Sister Kreiberg, my family, my Savior, my God, and by you, President. I’m trying to rely on the Savior to bear this burden, but I’ve never had to deal with a trial so mentally challenging and exhausting. I’ve been so blessed; I’ve never had to deal with depression before. How can I turn it over to the Lord?”

            “My dear, Sister Sillivan, know that our Heavenly Father is mindful of you. He loves you immensely and seeks to give you the comfort you desire. The Redeemer of us all is there to redeem you. Remember, the Atonement is for the smallest of sins as well as for the greatest tests; utilize it. Please keep me informed on how you are. If it continues to decline, let’s meet in person. With love, President Berry”

            As I read his reply, I imagined him sitting in his black pinstriped suit at his desk, as he likely had done while writing it. I heard his shaky voice as if he were standing before me in person, and I knew that he was deeply concerned for me. Every week I reported back to President on how I was doing. I lived for his responses each Monday. I needed his confirmation and his counsel. He was my father away from home. He somehow knew my heart and knew exactly what I always needed to hear. I often think back and know that, I served in Florida to specifically be under his direction.

“Sister, I want you to know how much you mean to me. You’re amazing!
Jeg elsker dig.” The note was laid on my desk with a small Danish figurine beside it. I didn’t know Danish, but I knew this phrase.

“Thank you so much, Sister. I love you too.”

Sister Kreiberg was everything I needed as I endured this trial. She was one of the many ways God reminded me He was aware of me and knew my needs. Her gentle reminders of her love, compassion, and affirmation strengthened me and gave me a desire to continue each day.

I couldn’t describe what I was feeling, but that wasn’t always necessary. My Heavenly Father and my Savior understood completely. Every free moment I had was in constant communication through prayer. I valued every second. Seeking to find answers, relief, and freedom. I learned how extremely merciful God is, and I recognized loved ones who walked beside me, even the very Son of God. I began to notice that every day I turned to Them, I felt something.

            The days began to be warmer, and with that warmth also came light to my soul. I began to see colors. Once again, Florida sunsets, took my breath away. I actually noticed the buds on the trees, which would soon turn into my favorite Magnolia blossoms. What seemed to be an eternity had only been nine weeks. There was finally light in this dark crater of my mind. It was hope.

“Sister, how are you doing today?”

“Better.” I smiled . . . almost automatically.

the one about my Grandma Gloria

I was only six years old when Grandma Gloria passed away, but her legacy continues to inspire me. Some of my fondest memories are walking hand in hand with my older sister to her house after school. We would climb the counter to peek into the candy cabinet and await the poached eggs with milk that would surely be our dinner. Her tiger lamp, famous spiral iron staircase, and the enchanting carousel horse are just the possessions that made grandma so unique to my cousins and me. Now I recognize the pivotal example she was to so many through her instant and permanent testimony of the Book of Mormon.

Gloria was born in a small town in central Nebraska in the year of 1928. She was an only child for most of her life. Her parents adopted her brother and sister after she was an adult. Her place of education was a one-room, country schoolhouse outside the town of Burwell. Her family was taught in the ways of the Methodist faith, but rarely attended.

 Annually, the quaint little school would bring in Catholic Nuns for a week to teach the students stories from the Bible. For days, they would read and discuss the lessons learned from Noah, Moses, David, and other prophets and people in the Old and New Testament. At the end of the week, they were each asked to stand in front of the class and recount their favorite story. At the age of seven, my grandma stood and shared her favorite story, “…when God lit the stones so the men could see in the boats.”  The teachers were puzzled. “Gloria, that’s a nice story but it is not one of the Bible stories.” With the closest LDS chapel and, likely, the closest Book of Mormon (what is the Book of Mormon? read here) as well, hundreds of miles away, her mother, the teachers, as well as herself, had no idea how she had heard this story. When asked, she had responded, “I don't know how I know it, but I know it’s true.” They asked every minister they came in contact with about the story but no one seemed to have ever heard such a tale. Gloria never forgot.

As years passed, that experience was always in the back of Gloria’s mind. But soon she met Norman Sillivan, the love of her life, and they were married in January of 1947. They had four children and adopted four, as well. Gloria and Norman raised their kids with the values of hard work, faith, and determination. They were also members of the Methodist church, although they didn’t attend but for special occasions. Still, they were known for their honesty, loyalty, values, and hard work.

In the summer of 1972, my grandparents decided to take the three kids that were still left at home on a trip to California to visit family. As fortune would have it, Salt Lake City was where they spent the night after a long day’s drive. After recognizing the tourist options within the city, they decided to at least walk around Temple Square. Not surprisingly, they were handed many brochures, as well as a Book of Mormon. After their planned 15-minute walk turned into three hours, they headed on their way.

As they drove, grandma read bits and pieces of her new literature out loud to her family.  They soon returned home and the book was placed on the shelf. Years passed and it collected dust. Finally, in the year of 1975, my grandma picked up the Book of Mormon once again. In the little village of Arcadia, Nebraska, Mormonism was hardly heard of.  And the few people, who had heard of it, knew very little about it. This included my grandma, other than the few hours spent in Salt Lake City.

My dad, the youngest of the eight children, only knows the story through his eyes. He was playing pool with his father in the basement of their little farmhouse. Suddenly, they heard a scream, along with tears, coming from just up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, they found Gloria sitting with the Book of Mormon in hand. With happiness and what must have also been shock and confusion, she shouted “I found my story!” Sure enough, out of curiosity, she had taken the book from the shelf and began reading where she had left off: Ether 3.

She was hungry for more; more knowledge about this book. She had so many questions. She did know one thing though, the story she had known all those years before as a small child, really did happen. Gloria wrote Church headquarters in Salt Lake City, asking for additional information about the church and the message of this Book of Mormon. For three years she waited, until one day two elders, missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, walked into her local business asking for a Gloria Sillivan.  She recognized who they must be immediately and responded, “What took you so long?”

Norman, Gloria, and the two youngest of the family, my aunt and my father, began meeting with these Mormon missionaries. The elders came, from the closest branch 100 miles away, to teach the family. Within just a few short months, the four were baptized on October 11, 1978 in the Middle Loup River. The recent converts were not always fortunate enough to make the drive to a newly formed branch only 70 miles away every Sunday. But members came for visits to strengthen and support their family.  Meetings were held in their home and as their testimonies increased, so did their church attendance. For years they continued to drive 140 miles round trip each Sunday and Wednesday as new callings came.

Now, 37 years later, I see the influence my courageous grandmother had on so many. Her leading example has brought dozens to the truth and to the knowledge of the gospel. She testified through the power of the Holy Ghost to all those who questioned and doubted her faith. The first daughter to be baptized brought her husband into the church and my father married a young lady from their first branch. Eventually, the church grew in our remote area and my dad was asked to help form a branch closer to home, this time only 30 miles away. The Broken Bow Branch was created in 1992.  My father was called as the first Branch President, fulfilling a statement from one of the missionaries that baptized them: “Someday this area will see a President Sillivan.”

On October 11, 2012, exactly 34 years from the day of her own baptism, two more of Gloria’s daughters were baptized. The gospel, and her example, continues to bless many of her grandchildren and great grandchildren to this day.

My grandma’s role in building the church in central Nebraska has been pivotal. My grandma’s role in building my family’s testimony has been without measure. Her unshakeable testimony of the gospel has taught me patience in learning, faith in God, and to believe that good things come to those who seek after truth. Her faith in a simple book, and even more so, within a short story, has testified to me that miracles do still occur. In Mormon 9:19 it says, “And if there were miracles wrought then, why has God ceased to be a God of miracles and yet be an unchangeable Being? And behold, I say unto you he changeth not; if so he would cease to be God; and he ceaseth not to be God, and is a God of miracles.”

Heavenly Father is aware of every individual. He knows their needs, their desires, and their heartaches and will always send assistance. He sent aid to my grandmother exactly when she needed it, to eventually bring her the eternal truths that would not only bless her life, but her family’s life for generations to come on both sides of the veil.

Although my testimony may have first started on the foundation of my parents, I too, now know firmly that my Heavenly Father lives and truly did send Jesus Christ to be the Savior of the World. The Book of Mormon will bring any honest seeker to truth and happiness. All the blessings He has in store for us in this life come through faithfulness to His commandments. I am so thankful for my testimony and the witness of my grandma, Gloria Sillivan. 

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