The summer after my sophomore year in college, I had the opportunity to be a part of the Hill Cumorah Pageant in New York with my 63-year-old mother. We traveled there on a sweltering bus that broke down at the top of Parleys Canyon before we even got out of Utah.
As a child and as a teenager, I (Linda) don’t remember much being said about Jesus at church. I’m sure it was there. I guess I just wasn’t listening for it, and even though I faithfully attended sacrament meeting, Mutual and seminary, I just didn’t get the significance of the Savior in my life. What I heard in those years was to be chaste and virtuous and a lot about not smoking or drinking — and I had a testimony of all that.
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