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Hi I'm AliceAnn

I'm a wife, a mother and a grandma and I'm a Mormon.

About Me

I've raised six children with my husband of 37 years. I like to scrapbook cards and am proud of my BS degree earned as a 'non-traditional' student, after our children were raised.

Why I am a Mormon

You attend church on Christmas and Easter. That’s what my parents taught me, by example. We were very religious in that. Every Christmas. Every Easter. You knew you were going to be sitting in an Episcopalian Church. That was Mom & Dad’s first date when he was a young sailor in San Diego and Mom was a young lady living in Long Beach. Stands to reason they’d raise us in their Christian Religion. I would pester mom incessantly to tell me about God and what He looked like, how tall He was, what color eyes He had. Again and again I would ask her the same questions. Mom taught me well that God sees everything and knows everything—you can lie to your parents but you can’t lie or hide from God. God is everywhere—He’s immense and fills all space; He dwells in your heart; He tolerates no out of control behavior; you must fear god—He will get you; you will burn in hell for wrong doings. My greatest faith promoting experience happened when I was ten years old. After the Jehovah’s Witnesses had been visiting with us (Mom and I), and I wanted to know some answers to some burning questions I had. It was overcast that day-living two blocks from the beach most of them started out that way. I went to my room, and not having been taught how to pray, I begged God to teach me: Where did I come from—did I exist before I was born? Did we live in families, with God, in a house? Why was I here? What was the purpose of my life?? Was I to always be beaten and demoralized by my dad? And where was I going post mortal existence? What came next? I was told by my mom about twenty years later that at about that same time frame the missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had knocked on the front door for the first time. Mom turned them away because we were studying with the Jehovah’s Witnesses and it would be too confusing to be studying with two different churches. I’ve since felt so bad for those missionaries and wish I could contact them to let them know—you were lead by the Spirit—you did respond as you should have—there was someone there earnestly seeking the truth. You did not waste your effort. Dad worked for the City Water Department. He dug holes to get at the broken pipes. He also turned off people’s water when they were moving or for non-payment. Elaine was one of those people he was going to turn the water off for non-payment. She and her husband had 5 kids-young adults and teens. Her husband had just been assigned as the US Forest Service Ranger in the nearby National Park and the house they were supposed to live in, at the edge of the forest, wasn’t ready for them to move into yet. Dad asked about why they couldn’t pay the bill, heard their circumstances and then decided to give, from his own pocket, the minimum money needed to keep the water on. A couple months later dad was supposed to go turn their water off again. He again spoke with Elaine to find out what was going on. This time it was good news-their house was ready and so they were moving out. A few months after this, my little brother (4 years my junior) was hit and killed in an auto/pedestrian accident. The skid marks proved the driver was going 49+ mph and his shoes were left in the crosswalk. His body hit the windshield of the car and was deposited in the street when the car came to a stop. The most interesting thing about this tragedy-the silver lining if you may, was I was on an errand and saw Chipper on the far side of the 4-lane highway heading home. He waved all happy and shouted across the highway, “Hi Al!” I responded with, “Hi Chip.” Interesting-I was the last in the family to speak with him alive and what we spoke was a greeting-an opening or beginning conversation. Hmmm… I continued on my way as did Chipper. On my way back from the store I heard sirens-lots of them. I was curious and if I didn’t have to go out of my way to see them I intended to slow down and see if I could figure out what was happening. I got to the intersection where you turn off the highway, to get into the subdivision where our house was located. As I approached the intersection I saw an ambulance, ambulance attendants lifting a gurney with someone covered with a blanket on it, being put inside the ambulance. I saw a police officer trying to direct traffic. I saw a bunch of people standing on the corner on both sides of the street. I overheard someone at the nearest corner say something about it being one of the 'family name' kids, another said, ‘Shhh-that’s one of them too.’ pointing to me. I stopped my bike and stood there, straddling it and noticed dad was walking away from the ambulance. I put my bike down and started to walk toward him. The police officer started to blow his whistle at me and yell at me to get back to the curb. Dad turned and told him it was okay, he’d take care of me, I was his daughter. Dad told me that there was nothing I could do and to go find my mother and he pointed me to a strange station wagon at the stop sign. I left my bike in the gutter and went to that car and mom was in it. She was balling. “Oh my baby, my baby. He’s dead. I know he’s dead. His face was ashen and gray. The pool of blood behind his head was so huge. He’s dead, I know he’s dead.” Someone from the Salvation Army had stopped by and had given them a ride up to the intersection. Dad had me walk home (all of about 2 ½ blocks) with him to get his car so I could ride with him to the hospital where they were taking Chipper. Mom stayed home. When we got to the hospital they made dad answer all kinds of questions-except for being born, this was the first time I remember going to a hospital. After an interminable amount of time, once the records people were satisfied, we waited with just our thoughts. I kept saying the whole way over, in the car that Chipper was going to be alright, I just knew that he was going to be alright. Finally the doctor came out, verified he was talking to the dad of the victim and then he said, “I guess you know, he arrived DOA, dead on arrival.” Dad simply said, “No I didn’t.” I slowly collapsed backwards against the wall on my way to the floor. Someone caught me and helped me sit down somewhere. I don’t remember what happened next. After awhile we were driving home in silence. There was nothing to say. The accident was on the 6:00 news. When Elaine's family heard about it they called immediately to verify that it was our family. As did other family friends. But the Elaine's did something none of our other friends or family could do. They sent someone over to stay with us from as early as they could get there until as late as they could stay there. Always, one of their sons who held the holy Priesthood came and stayed. They’d answer the door, answer the phone and prayed a lot as they sat there and listened to anything mom or dad or any of us wanted to talk about-mostly about Chipper. After the funeral and one of the longest processionals to date, we went home for a meal and to visit with extended family and close family friends; then Elaine asked my dad if we’d like to hear her Church’s explanation of life after death. To this my dad said yes. She then made arrangements for the missionaries to come meet with us. We were taught the gospel over several weeks time. Chipper had been killed Jan. 21, the day after mom and dad’s 20th wedding anniversary. During the time after Chipper’s death, there had been one question I had asked between myself and God, I had shared it with no one else: I saw my brother before he died; he was whole, full of life, complete. After he had died his body was still whole, broken yes, but whole, where did the life go? The missionaries answered this when they taught about the spirit world and pre- and post-mortal existence. The Holy Ghost bore dynamic witness to me that this was the answer to my question. The Spirit also bore dynamic witness about the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith and his first vision, and about the oneness yet individuality of the Godhead. We were baptized March 21, a couple months later. Ever since then, I’ve known, not believed, known the gospel is true, Joseph Smith was a Prophet and is dynamically involved in this last dispensation from the other side of the veil, that Jesus is the Christ, that He lives, that we have a prophet leading and directing us today, the Book of Mormon is true, and this is the only true and living Church. I know that our Heavenly Father knows us intimately and delights in blessing us. I know that He hears and answers our prayers in the way that is best for each of us. I know He loves me and has cradled me when I have been in my greatest sorrow and grief and pain. I know He has laughed at me when I’ve been stupid. I know He’s laughed with me when I’ve done something good and worth laughing at. I know He’s smiled with pride and satisfaction when I’ve accomplished or fulfilled something good and in righteousness. He is part of my breath, my heart, my joy, and He is my everything. I LOVE my Father in Heaven as I love my Savior.

How I live my faith

I remind myself on a daily basis that I want to behave and respond to others and how they treat me the way Christ has shown in His interactions with others in the scriptures. I have been a Brownie Girl Scout Leader to serve in my community. I served as a VP of service in Phi Theta Kappa while I was in college. I share a gospel message of encouragement to three sisters every month.

Why is family so important to Mormons?

Life begins and ends with families. You can have a lot of friends in between. Someday your children will be adults and be raising families of their own. What a delight and blessing it is to have a granddaughter who looks just like pictures of you when you were her age. Your heart is so much more full of hope for her future. Families can be forever. Families can be sacred-if we just keep working at it. Show more Show less