I am a lifer. Ancestors on both sides of my family crossed the plains to seek refuge from anti-Mormon persecution. My great-great something-or-other was even a member of Pitts Brass Band who crossed with Brigham Young. I have always found it somewhat ironic my ancestors went through the hardships pushing handcarts and driving their wagons, mile after mile, to find refuge in the Salt Lake Valley, only to have me, their descendent, live from whence they came.
I grew up in Sandy, Utah at the foot of my Wasatch Mountains, in the heart of all Mormondom. I ate it. I drank it and breathed it. I have to many a football game in the formerly named, "Cougar Stadium" in my younger years. Whenever the BYU Cougars lost to the evil, dreaded Utah Utes, my heart would always sink. For how could God let the True Church be defeated by those heathens? And their school colors were RED! Is that not the color of the devil?
Of the five of my siblings, three have served LDS missions, all five have been endowed in the Riverton Temple, and four have been sealed in the temple. We always went to church growing up; and during different chapters in our family book, we practiced our religion at various levels. When Dad was in the Stake Presidency, we would read the BOM after dinner. When Older Brother was on his mission, we would have family prayer. Those religious practices were not very consistent growing up. Only FHE had some consistency, as it was usually held Sunday afternoon, after naps, after church.
Of the siblings, I would say I was the most devout. Everything was very black and white and everything in the world made perfect sense. Many a Fast and Testimony Meeting I proclaimed, "How couldn't it be true?" I very much enjoyed tattling my sibling's sins and because of this, I was always the odd-man-out and felt picked on, for how could one handle such a Pharisee as a sibling? No matter. I channeled that hurt into getting good grades in school and accomplishing other academic achievements.
I would say I did have many friends in school, but not many close friends. Believe-it-or-not, with Mormons being known to have a bazillion children, there was not a single girl my age, in my grade, growing up in my ward. I was kind of a loner, a loner at home and a loner in the neighborhood. Because of this, I believe I formed a stronger bond with my mother than most other young girls my age had. I mean, don't most teenage girls hate their mothers? Many a time, Mom and I would pack up our fishing poles and head up to Silver Lake at Brighton to go fishing together. Mom was and still continues to be one of my best friends, although, with little less dependence on my part these days.
Growing up in the church, I have always felt slighted for being female. I have always had a little feminist inside me, waiting to burn my bra, and there have always been things I did not like about being Mormon, and later, The Church. I loathed the fact the Young Men would go off on their rafting and backpacking adventures, and the Young Woman were left at home learning how to make another craft. During my college years, I learned other things about the church I did not particularly like. Troubling issues, such as polygamy, I tended to put on the back burner because it was easier not to deal with it. It was not until about three years ago other issues came to a head. Those being: Prop 8, the truthfulness of the BOM, JS, the ERA, things about the temple ceremony, and inequality.
This spring, I will have been married for twelve years. During those twelve years, our activity in the church has varied. When we lived on our own, we did not attend church and I chalked that up mostly to us being lazy, not really knowing Hubs had other reasons. We lived with my PILs for a few years while Hubs was in grad school; we became active, holding various callings. It was kind of an unspoken requirement for us to attend church as a condition of living in the basement, but it was also easier to go because of the social aspects of it. For the first time in my life, I had friends, dear friends who accepted me and loved me for how quirky I was.
Once we moved out and out of the ward boundaries, inactivity followed, until the PILS followed us to the small town in which we now reside and then activity commenced. In the last year, we have not felt much of a pull in going to church, nor have cared if we were expected to go by the PILS. There are many reasons behind our inactivity, many of which will be blogged about here, but for now, this is just an introduction, merely to give you the jest and insight into how I came to the current feelings I have towards The Church.
The purpose of this blog will come later too, but for now, this is a little glimpse into my life for you. Enjoy.
