I’ve talked with many people who have joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, referred to as the Mormons, and I love hearing their conversion stories. Rarely does a person join the Church because of one member…it’s usually the result of a variety of experiences with many members. Such is the case of this conversion story from Debi Onken. Her son is currently serving a mission in Boston and another son served in Venezuela.
I was about 12 or 13 when my mother joined the Church. We were living in San Marcos, TX. My mother was either just starting or just ending her second marriage. All of her children over the age of eight were baptised at the same time, including me. I remember the missionaries (Elder Bean and Elder Bower) and I remember some of their discussions (gospel lessons.) I have some vague memories of attending a meeting or two but that’s about it. We were never active and when I went to live with my father (who was stationed in Germany) when I turned 14 that pretty much was the end of my contact with the Mormons.
Many years later when I was in my early 20’s I had moved out to California and my mother moved to Hidden Hills (part of the Calabasas area where we still live). She lived across from a Mormon family – Ginny and Mike Purdy – who managed to “resurrect” the family’s church membership files. For a very short time I lived with my mother and her husband and I remember having women (probably from the Young Single Adults ward) come to visit me. I always refused their visits.
Several years later I was married and my husband and I moved from Glendale into our first home in Calabasas (the same ward as the Purdys). Suddenly we found ourselves with “visiting teachers” and “home teachers.” At this point in my life I didn’t even know what Relief Society was, but I didn’t want to appear rude by turning such nice people away from my door. My visiting teachers were Ellen Crane and Marcy Koch. I’ve long since lost touch with them but I will always remember them. Each month these lovely ladies would come, usually in the evenings while Martin and I were bathing babies in the kitchen sink or otherwise tending to chores, and they would stand in the kitchen and visit with us – never staying too long, often bringing vegetables from a garden or some other little thing. They usually left a small printed lesson which I would place on the refrigerator door.
Truthfully, I don’t think I ever read them. Through these ladies I did inquire about some sort of “church christening” – first for my oldest and then for my second child which they then helped to arrange. Once, when my second child was still an infant, I broke my ankle and suddenly a stream of women began appearing at my door bringing meals to our family.
eThe visiting teachers were really the first contact that Martin had ever had with the church and for all intents and purposes, they were my first contacts as well. When we moved away from Calabasas for a year, I was genuinely sorry I would not be seeing them again.
I had become so accustomed to being visited that I was a bit let down when we arrived in our new home in Central California and were not visited at all. In fact, although I know our records had been sent, it was the elders tracting that stumbled upon us by accident. There were a few attempts at visiting us, but never with the steadfastness and spirit that Ellen and Marcy had brought to our home.
I believe it was the diligence of these fine visiting teachers that caused Martin and I to actually seek out the church once again when we returned to Calabasas. It was Ellen and Marcy and their friendly, caring presence that impressed Martin and relaxed any reservations he had about contact with the church. We started coming out to meetings – not every Sunday, but frequently. We had a third child by this time who was also blessed in the ward.
Once we returned to Calabasas, my husband spent a lot of time traveling to the Rocky Mountain states. He spent time in Colorado traveling with a devout Baptist who often spoke poorly about the LDS Church (Mormon) not knowing Martin had contact with the church. He also spent time in Salt Lake City traveling with a man who turned out to be a Ward missionary. This gentlemen spent a lot of time talking about the church (still not knowing about Martin’s connections.) One day while in Salt Lake City Martin went to the Visitors Center. While there, he signed up for the missionary discussions. Of course the missionaries back home were only too happy to teach a family who was already occasionally attending meetings! While Martin went through the discussions (and several sets of missionaries) I had very ambivalent feelings. I was comfortable with my “part membership” and did not have a testimony. I enjoyed my association with the church, but I didn’t make much of an effort to gain a testimony.
Once Martin decided to become baptized, I realized that I needed to come to some decision for myself. I picked up the Book of Mormon and read it and that was when I became converted to the Gospel. To this day I am the only active member of my family. Neither my mother nor my siblings has expressed any interest in resuming contact with the church.
Two missionaries planted a seed when I was a young girl but it was two visiting teachers who watered and nurtured and tilled the earth until the gospel was able to take root and grow. I often tell my story to missionaries now to let them know that even if they feel frustrated with their converts who seem to fall into activity soon after baptism, they never really know what will happen many, many years down the line.
