From 46 Old Salt Road

THE CONVERSION STORY OF MICHAEL JOSEPH SMITH
Recorded November 22, 2007
From 46 Old Salt Road, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, I could see my Aunt Dot’s house on Temple Avenue. It was scary when the train derailed in nineteen eighty-something. That wasn’t the worst of it; the roll-knock and creak of regular trains were gone for a long time – that’s upsetting. Growing up on that dead-end street, in that all-American family of mom, dad and son, was secure, but it had its moments.
It was a half-hour walk to the beach at Ocean Park, a religious community with Baptist roots, dating back a few hundred years. But there wasn’t a lick of Baptist in me. You see, I grew up with Franco-American roots. My Aunt Laurette took me to St. André’s Catholic Church in Biddeford before she moved in with us. And when she stayed at my house, we attended St. Margaret’s in my hometown.
You could probably find pictures of me in my baptism outfit – my boys all wore that same one when they received a naming and a blessing. You could probably find pictures of me in my Altar Boy robes at St. Margaret’s; though I can’t find any in my pile of photos. Oh – and my kids probably wont be wearing those robes. Laurette always took me to the Catholic Church, but my parents never did. Dad was somewhat angry when I started serving Mass as an Altar Boy – “it starts there and maybe he’ll be a Priest someday and I don’t want that for him.”
My parents’ marriage began to deteriorate as I grew older. They eventually divorced by the time I turned eighteen. I became really good friends with my grandmother and started going to her church in Saco – Most Holy Trinity Catholic Church. The church’s clergy weren’t conservative traditional Catholics, but held to the basic beliefs. I attended a Cursillo – a charismatic conference of a few days immersed in belief, fraternity and ritual. It was enlightening and a wonderful experience. I was feeling fed, yet somewhat lacking in spirituality and true religion. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I wasn’t dissatisfied, rather I felt called to another place. By the time I was twenty, I lived in Dayton, Maine, was challenged by many things, had been many things, was really good friends with Steve Bryant and became a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Actually, that’s not all – and I didn’t meet Steve when I was twenty. Steve and I were friends from the Ski Club. I can’t even remember when we first met – but I can remember why and where we first met. It was back in grade school, when I was skiing every Wednesday night at Lost Valley. It was an hour ride on the school bus from Old Orchard. I had friends – John, Ben, Norman. We stormed around the school bus and the mountain during the weekly ski club meeting. But more times than not, I was alone there. Skiing alone means being in the singles lane and getting matched up with others so there are no single riders on any chair lift. Steve and I were often paired up. Steve didn’t really have any loyal friends to speak of. Well, he did, I’m sure (he says he didn’t really). Anyways, we became good friends and it was a good thing.
We skied and talked and talked and skied. I met his family. They didn’t ski on Sunday. That was disturbing to me – or is it just inconvenienced. I wanted to ski with him on Sunday, but he couldn’t go because his religion forbade it. “What is this religion,” I wondered? I asked and he told me. I made sure he knew that I wasn’t interested in changing to his religion, but once I heard the story of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, I found that I had always believed. I believed the Book of Mormon the moment I set eyed on it. I couldn’t let it go. I believed the story, but I held on to my current religion, because I was always taught to be wary of other religions. I was taught not to change religions. It’s just not good. That kind of blind faith kept me Catholic until I was twenty.
Steve answered my questions – as I had many over the years. Their family lived their faith that it always begged the question, “what does this mean,” or, “why do you do that?” They invited me to youth activities, and I went. It wasn’t so bad. They invited me to their Christmas Cantata – it was the first LDS worship meeting I ever attended. I LOVE hymns and love to sing. It was a perfect first exposure. They asked me again the year later and I did go. It was nice, comfortable and inviting – but I still resisted the Spirit. My family dynamic really didn’t allow for such a change anyways.
I graduated high school while I was still seventeen. By then, my parents were divorced. Forty-six Old Salt Road was sold. I was moving. Steve and I were still pals, though. He is a year younger than I am, but we kept in touch. During this time, Steve taught me about the Plan of Salvation and drew it out for me on a piece of paper. I think I still have that paper in a book somewhere, but I looked and can’t find it now. All his answers percolated in my brain for many years. You know what? Neither he nor his family ever invited me to baptism. Oh, they intimated to joining the church like, “Boy you would make a good member,” but they never directly asked me. That’s all right, though, because I probably would have said no.
Steve graduated high school, met a girl, joined the army, and moved away. It was during this time that I was really grinding away at my own beliefs. I was working out what I believed and how I got there. I explored other religions, but I kept being drawn to this one religion, called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, of which Steve and his family were members. Their story touched my heart. I felt the Spirit when they testified and answered questions. I liked the feeling, the security and the surety. Moreover, I knew the Book of Mormon was true – and that Joseph Smith’s story did, in fact, happen.
One night, I was visiting Steve’s folks (Steve and Leta Bryant). I asked more questions and our discussion turned gospel-centered. I finally asked if I could learn more and talk with the missionaries, because I knew that the missionaries were the way I could join the Church. I asked to take the discussions. Elder Scott Beus was the missionary who came with Mark Jacobs, then a member of the Sanford Ward because I lived in that Ward’s boundaries. We met at the Bryant’s home even though it was in another Ward.
They did come to my home in Dayton, but my home was not hospitable to the Spiritual matters we were discussing. Our schedule of discussions at the Bryant’s eventually took me to October 11, 1992 – my baptism. I think discussions and waiting for this that and the other thing stretched it out from May to October. I was calling the Bryant’s Mom and Dad since as long as I can remember, because Steve and I were like brothers. He and I still call each others’ parents Mom and Dad. Dad baptized and confirmed me, Tom gave the prayer. I also received the Aaronic Priesthood at Dad’s hands.
My parents in all this were passive. My mother conceded that I was my own man and I could make my own decisions. She did, however ask my Uncle Bill what to do. He is my godfather and he’s also a Brother in the Catholic Church. He just said, “He’ll always be a Catholic. Let him go and do whatever he wants.” I’m not sure if my mother was concerned with my eternal soul, or if she, like me, resisted change because that’s all she knew. My father on the other hand was coolly passive-aggressive. He thought it was ludicrous – not because I was leaving the Catholic church, but rather all organized religion is hooey. He knew about Mormons, and it wasn’t good. It has always been a hot spot for us. My mother has attended all the important milestones to which she was invited. If she missed, it was truly that she had other things to wrestle. My dad on the other hand never came to anything. He refused to come to my baptism or to my children’s naming and blessings, or any of their baptisms. Oh well, my eternal salvation rolls on in the meantime.
I have grown since October 11th, 1992. I went to France on a mission in 1994. I have served in multiple callings including Elders quorum presidencies, young mens presidencies, assistant clerk, ward and stake missionary, ward mission leader, ward program coordinator, stake presidencies and bishoprics. I am now the Ward Clerk for the Farmington Ward of the Bangor Maine Stake. I think I left out a few callings. My point – I have served a lot. I have seen a lot of baptisms. I have sung in choirs.
I have had my share of spiritual plateaus and sudden spurts of growth. I have seen days that my testimony was shaken and I saw less-active moments. I have questioned my beliefs. I have been sealed for eternity in the Temple of our Lord. I have five kids now – and two are baptized.
Oh yes – about being married in the Salt Lake City Temple…Steve was inactive by then (Juneish, 1996). He had struggles of his own. I was getting married in the temple and I had few people I wanted to be my best man – or better yet, my escort in the Temple. I called Steve and challenged him to be worthy in every way to be endowed in the Temple and come to my wedding. He took that challenge and was there with his parents. My parents didn’t come to Salt Lake (mostly because they couldn’t actually be present for the event), but they threw a party for us when we got to Maine. The important thing is that Steve made it back to the Church. He reports that he was on his way back anyways, but I like to think I had something to do with it. Better yet, I like to think that the Spirit knew where Steve was at and I was only an instrument in the Lord’s hands.
There was a time when Kim and I lived in Utah when I was spiritually low. My career took a turn for the worst. I was really down. Audrey (Kim’s best friend) told me to look up all the references from the Topical Guide on the subject, faith. I did that. I received a deep and abiding testimony in the atonement and in Jesus Christ. I always knew about Jesus Christ, but then I was really beginning to know Jesus Christ. This was an important milestone for me. I often think about this when I meet difficult challenges.
I wish to testify to all who read these words. I know – and have always known – that the Book of Mormon is True. Steve told me about it. I knew it was true from that moment on, but it seemed like I always knew it was true. It’s almost like I was born into the Church. Then again, that’s what the atonement and baptism does for us – restores to us what is rightly ours. The Spirit brings things to our remembrance and additively binds this testimony for me. Additionally, I have likewise always known that Joseph Smith is a true prophet. I have believed the Joseph Smith story all my life – without ever once questioning the validity. I have not come up with this on my own! The Spirit has borne witness to me personally through personal prayer and revelation that the restoration is ultimately and powerfully true. I have a testimony that the heavens are open and that angels and God himself speaks to man today through his prophet, Thomas S Monson. At the pinnacle of my testimony is that Jesus Christ paid the price of sin and overcame spiritual and physical death. I declare that through this atonement we can rise from the dust and return to divine eternal glory with the Father and the Son. Lastly, I would like to share a corner of my testimony about Missionary Work. It is powerful and real. The work one can do in missionary work is divinely appointed and is very important. My family is now sealed in the Temple because of one person’s example. My posterity is moving forward. Steve has blessed me and all my children and their children. A link has been mended and reaches backward and forward in my family lines through Temple work. The Spirit of Elijah is brooding over the Stakes of Zion and our family is no different. I praise the Father for sending Steve into my life. His family has given me a precious gift I will never forget! Literally! This same experience can be had for you. Sharing the gospel with others is more than living an example – it’s answering another’s questions and inviting others to come unto Christ. Those who are baptized because of your missionary work will praise the Father in reverence of you and your boldness. He promises blessings for those who save but one soul even after crying repentance all the days of your life. Imagine what a father feels when his son is brought home. I imagine that’s what Heavenly Father feels for Steve and his parents. Thank you!
In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.