Greetings to all. You must understand that as a convert to the Church, the only things I knew about bishops and high priests were the things I saw in the movies and on TV. I knew that I didn't want to wear a robe and run around forgiving people and blessing them and sprinkling them with water. I had no desire to sit in a booth and forgive others of their sins. I just wanted a place where I could go and feel the Spirit on Sundays so I could live my regular life the rest of the week.The reason Dolores and I became interested in seeking the Spirit was because of the big four: Eric, Lyn, Karyn, and Marc. A bus used to come through our neighborhood on Sundays and pick kids up and take them to a church a few miles away. Our children asked if they could go. Seeing this as a great way to spend a lazy Sunday morning sleeping in, we sent them off to who knows where without even checking to see where they were going. Do not try this. That was probably the height of my stupid years. I know that Father looks out after fools and little children.
To make a long story short (yeah, yeah, I know it's too late), the kids would come home singing songs of praise. They had memorized the books of the Bible in proper order and could even tell us stories of Jesus. I was really impressed and realized that we had done the right thing "sending" the kids to church. It wasn't until the pastor of the church sent out a proclamation that all members should take their television sets to a parking lot and collectively burn them that I decided to investigate the church that my children were attending.
Soon after the lot burning, our family was introduced to the Barnes family, who invited us to dine in their home and meet two young gentlemen with the same strange first name of Elder. The rest is history.
Oh, the question! "Do you recall?" We had been in the Church more than six years and I was very comfortable. I never thought I would receive the priesthood, but I was comfortable. That day I received a call from our former Michigan Mission President Hanson, who by that time had returned to his home in Syracuse, Utah. I could hardly understand what he was saying because of his emotional state. As soon as I hung up, the phone started ringing off the hook, but I didn't want to talk to anyone except Father. I left home and drove to the chapel. I had a key and let myself in. I spent about two hours conversing with the Lord about my complacency, and I pleaded for forgiveness. I asked Him once if He was sure He was doing the right thing (silly me!).
I want to end by stating the obvious. Many of you or your parents saw something in the Dudley family that you all thought was worth trying to salvage. I will always be indebted to those who loved strangers and took them in, fed them, and opened their arms as Christ taught. As I gaze across the land and see my children and their children flourish in the gospel because of the initial kindness of others, I know that I have a lot of work ahead of me, yet because of the tender mercies of the great plan of salvation, there is hope for me. As long as we all reach out to touch the hearts of others, there will be hope for the world.