I grew up in a small map dot of a town in southern New Mexico. It was a very different life than the everyday life here in Utah. As a member of the LDS church (and a white person) I was an oddity- strange and peculiar if you will. I got up very early in the morning, before the cock even crowed, to drive to town and attend my seminary class. If I wasn't there, Karl or Jill would have to play the piano and if one of them played the piano, then who would lead the music for the other, um, 5 or 6 students (3 of whom were siblings of mine)?
Here in Utah, the students are released from school for 1 class period to attend seminary. And there are enough of them that there are 6-7 classes held each and every class period each and every day! And many of the students that are not members attend these classes as well. Amazing to me.
In April and again in October, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints holds a general conference where our leaders speak to us. It always storms the weekend of conference. Don't believe me? Look outside. Storming. This happened even in New Mexico. Often enough that the first week end of April or October would find non-member friends asking me if it was time for my church's conference because it was storming.
I didn't pay a lot of attention to conference as a young person because it was something happening in Salt Lake thousands of miles away from me. If I wanted to know anything about it, I could read it in the church magazine, The Ensign, in a month when it came. I usually didn't.
When I left home to attend Ricks College, now BYU-Idaho, I was amazed that conference was piped in to all the buildings on campus so that students could listen no matter what they were doing. Even more amazing was the fact that the grocery stores also piped it over the sound system. And I began to pay attention.
As a young mother, I was anxious for my children to not repeat my childhood inattention. I turned conference on in every room in the house and we listened. (I am sure my parents would have listened or watched had that been available to us, but it wasn't) On Sundays we all sat together on the couch and watched and listened and sang the songs and discussed the lessons. And it was good.
Then big trials hit my family and I was sure I could not go on. And it was conference time. And I listened and I cried and I recieved answer to prayer and it was sort of good again. Until the trials became even harder than the first time. Then I learned a valuable lesson concerning conference. Don't just watch and listen- Hearken to the voice of the prophets.
Hearken means to make an effort to hear something- to give heed to when listening. I think it also means to hear and then do. So now, instead of just tuning in and listening and shushing the kids, I prepare beforehand. I take stock of what it is I need to do, learn, change etc. and then pray to find the answer during conference. And that, my friends, has made all the difference.
Indeed.
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